I remember when ‘Afterland’ was published, it was delayed in South Africa as all the printing presses were shuttered due to our insane Covid-19 lockdown, which brough the country’s economy to its knees in the space of a few months. I managed to get an ebook on Google Books and then much later a physical trade paperback.
When I read ‘Shining Girls’ originally in Dubai, Beukes responded to a question I posed to her on Goodreads, which delighted me. She subsequently signed my copy of ‘Moxyland’ at the Joburg Book Fair in 2015, and I also listened to her on a panel with David Mack, I think, at the first ComicCon South Africa. Personable and approachable, she is as generous in person as she is talented as a writer.
I found out quite by accident that Beukes had emigrated to the UK, joining luminaries such as J.M. Coetzee who left us (probably in disgust) for Australia many years ago. Ironically, it was at the book launch for fellow Cape Townian Alistair Mackay’s debut novel ‘It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way’ at ‘Love Books’ in Melville that the discussion came up. (If you check on Twitter, there is a recent remarkably candid CBS interview with Beukes.)
The impact of Beukes on the SF scene (especially in Africa) cannot be underestimated. She won the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 2011 for ‘Zoo City’, the same year Nnedi Okorafor won the World Fantasy Award for ‘Who Fears Death’.
African SF had finally ‘arrived’, especially in the wake of Neil Blomkamp’s ‘District 9’ in 2009 (which Okorafor takes apart in a hilarious blog called ‘District 419’, due to its cartoon villain Nigerians.) Both ‘Zoo City’ and ‘Moxyland’ are prescient and gritty cyberpunk noir, so ‘Shining Girls’ and its horrific tale of a time-travelling serial killer came as something of a surprise, to say the least. What it did signify was Beukes’s penchant for horror, especially body horror, and a hyper weird aesthetic that made reading ‘Afterland’ in the wake of Covid-19 such a surreal experience.
Beukes is resolutely consistent in her idiosyncrasy, so you never really know what to expect from each book. She inscribed my copy of ‘Moxyland’ with: “For the love of stories and the doors they open in our heads.” I recall some local grumbling when, by ‘Broken Monsters’, it was clear that Beukes had ‘abandoned’ her ‘African’ roots and was hellbent on writing whatever the hell she wanted.
What about Afrofuturism, a phrase coined by academic Mark Dery in 1994 when, to his surprise, he could count the number of ‘African-American’ SF writers on one hand. The Global South has since been ascendant, especially with the sterling work being done by the African Speculative Fiction Society and its Nommo Awards to recognise African SF.
Now Beukes is neither fowl nor fish, joining the African diaspora, I suppose. I am not a fan of Cape Town and its particular culture of being a separate, more advanced version of South Africa than the rest of the country, though I do wonder why someone would abandon it for the rain and gloom of the UK. Though the Mother City does have its fair share of foul weather.
But I digress. So, as a long-time fan, I probably hold Beukes up to higher standards than mere mortal writers. My all-time favourite is still ‘Broken Monsters’. My least favourite, unfortunately, has to be ‘Bridge’.
Probably her most tightly plotted and narrative-driven novel to date, the book is a relentless machine that you just cannot stop reading. I started it over a weekend but stopped about a third from the end on Sunday as it was so intense, with the result I had a rather grumpy Monday, as I just wanted to abandon work to find out how it fucking ended.
The multiverse is a path well-trodden by genre writers, from Dave Hutchinson to Blake Crouch and William Gibson (who had a similar concept of ‘body swapping’ in ‘The Peripheral’). It is ironic that ‘Zoo City’ was published in the shadow of ‘District 9’, as ‘Bridge’ is similarly overshadowed by ‘Everything Everywhere All At Once’.
Beukes wisely introduces her McGuffin within the first couple of pages. With virtually no info dumping, we are immediately plunged into the heart of the story. It is clear from the get-go that the real focus is the characters. And it must be said that Dom is one of the best Beukes has ever put on the page.
Though the challenge of a non-binary character is that, being human, and to picture a fictional person in your head, one automatically assigns a gender congruent to your own. At least I tend to do so. It is a difficult problem for a writer to deal with given the limitations of the English language, but Beukes really nails the character of Dom.
There are some neat South African easter eggs for locals (poor Krugersdorp), an entirely coincidental but hilarious ‘Barbie funeral’ joke, and an arch reference to “A study group whose members all look at you expectantly as if you have answers about deconstructing the colonial voice in African science fiction.” Beukes is clearly aware of the debate about provenance and writerly identity. When asked by Elle journalist Neil McRobert (12 August 2023) if she would “ever go back to writing fiction set in South Africa”, she replies:
I’m sure I will. I have an idea for a different take on an apartheid novel, but it might be better as a comic. I’m always writing from that perspective of growing up under what was a utopia for me, and a repressive violent state that destroyed lives and futures for Black people when the racist government wasn’t actively murdering them. I’m keenly aware of the responsibility of history and how social issues play out now, which comes through in my work. The reality is that books set in the U.S. and the U.K. are more commercially viable, because that’s the market. Some people may say “Oh, you’ve sold out,” but I’m writing exactly the books I want to write, set in the places that make sense for the story and what I’m trying to say.
I do get that, and it does seem unfair that Beukes is ‘judged’ for not being South African enough anymore (if she ever was, even while living in the country.) I think the path that Beukes is forging for herself is that of Blake Crouch, who writes SF books for people who ostensibly do not like SF nor would be caught dead reading such vulgar genre (i.e. generic) fiction.
My tolerance level for weirdness is definitely different to the next reader. So, while I may have found ‘Bridge’ a bit too mechanical in its ruthless execution and bland in its faux David Cronenberg aesthetic, another reader may throw the book down in sheer disgust. And be warned: There are some gloriously creepy bits in ‘Bridge’, including a ‘Museum of Surgical History’.
Let me leave the final word to Beukes from her Elle interview:
I’ve been fascinated with alternate realities for years, and especially the idea of all the versions of our lives that we haven’t been able to live, because we made bad decisions or maybe really good ones, or because we got overwhelmed and paralyzed and were unable to make one at all. What if there’s another version of you who is already living your best possible life? How would that make you feel, and what would you do if there was a way to experience that?
Plus, we do exist in parallel universes right now. An anti-vaxxer, or a climate-change-denier just lives in a completely different reality to the one I inhabit. That’s scary; all these realities layered on top of each other. We have to interact, but we have no place to connect or find an objective or compassionate truth.