By Andre Brink
On a farm close to the Cape Colony within the early 19th century, a slave uprising kills 3 and leaves 11 others condemned to dying. The rebellion’s chief, Galant, used to be raised along the men who could develop into his masters. His first sufferer, Nicholas van der Merwe, could have been his brother. because the many layers of Andre Brink’s novel spread, it turns into transparent that the violent rebellion is as a lot a fruits of family members tensions because it is an outcry opposed to the oppression of slavery. Spanning 3 generations and narrated within the voices of either the dwelling and the lifeless, a series of Voices is such as William Faulkner’s Absalom, Absalom!; it's a attractive and haunting representation of racism’s plague on South Africa.
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Extra resources for A Chain of Voices
Horse races where one can win a fortune in a single day. People with splendid clothes and tall hats. Houses where you may buy anything you can think of. And even slaves, they say, are allowed to keep their own shops there and get rich; and although they go barefoot like us their clothes are as fine as any gentleman’s. Once Nicolaas brings me a scarf from the Cape, of fine red silk; another time it’s a conical hat; strange things I’ve never held in my hands before. Some place, this Cape. “You wait,” I tell Ma-Rose at night.
He’ll kill us. ” “He’ll kill us dead,” I say, spitting and spluttering. Long after the men have left, the two of us remain there together in the darkening day, two boys who have discovered death together. That is what I cannot understand. For at this very dam where our tracks merge they also run apart, his in one direction, mine in another. And all because of the writing, it seems to me. Their mother, the Ounooi, has been teaching them for a long time to read and write: I know, because they always talk about it at the dam.
He’s only a slave boy. What use is writing to him? ” I repeat. He stares at me with a little frown between his eyes. Absently, with a shrug of annoyance, he throws a pebble at a frog. “I suppose 43 chainofvoices_internals 7/16/07 4:33 PM Page 44 ANDRÉ BRINK Barend is right,” he says at last. “Writing is no use to you at all, you know. ” That night one of the Bokkeveld’s wild thunderstorms breaks out over the farm; and when I return to the dam the next day there is no trace of the marks in the clay.