I like crime detection novels. It's my main form of light reading. However, I tend to read from a select few writers and rarely leave that comfort zone – James Lee Burke, who's lately off his game, John Grisham, etc – so-called best-selling authors.
While there are a few South African crime writers, I've seldom been interested to explore beyond the confines of my narrow circle. It's part familiarity with the known and part unwilling to try new authors.
But Cape Town Afrikaans writer Deon Meyer is one I've read from time to time. I dropped him a few years ago out of an intense irritation then with his misrepresentation of the social and historical context of Cape Town's brown community, otherwise known as "coloureds".
To be exact, it wasn't a misrepresentation in the body of the novel per se, but his, his publisher's or translator's historically outdated and incorrect description, one harking from the apartheid-era, of them in the glossary. It was, I think, in his 2014 novel Cobra.
The first mistake was its use of the term "Cape Coloured" to describe Cape Town's brown people. That went out of fashion at the end of apartheid and even then wasn't used that much. The problem with it is even under apartheid's notorious Population and Registrations Act of 1950, which defined the county's populations by race group, coloureds (to use the term in the act, colloquially even today in an allegedly race blind democratic South Africa) weren't sub-classified into Cape and those from other regions or by ancestral ethnicity. From Meyer's glossary (2014):
“The Cape Flats, a vast area east of Cape Town, (is) where the majority of ‘Cape Coloured’ people reside. ‘Coloured people’ refers to the descendants of Malaysian slaves, who inter-married with white farmers and local Khoi people – as opposed to blacks (descendants of Bantu people) and whites (descendants of European people.)”
While the Cape Flats is indeed where typically brown and black people call home, whites reside there too. However, still today, more than 300 years after Dutch colonialists arrived in Table Bay, all brown people from these here parts, as distinct from “coloureds” in the Eastern Cape or elsewhere, are pronounced, and presumed by Meyer et al to have Malay, Khoi and Dutch bloodlines. As if 300 years of intermixing, especially post-1990s when marriage among South Africa’s races became common, never happened.
Brown people (the term logically fits with “white” and “black”; “coloured” doesn’t) who were born and raised on the Cape Peninsula and those who migrated here from other parts of the country, come from generations of home-grown brown and the intermixing of European, African, Indian, Asian and other ancestry. They are South Africa’s “rainbow” of peoples, and display a variety of social, religious and cultural adherences, unlike their homogenous countrymen.
Perhaps I read something into an innocuous definition in Meyer's glossary that wasn't there. But it was unfortunate, irritating and wrong that apartheid-era misconceptions still remain including with an author of international renown whose books are translated into many languages. It’s one thing for characters and plots in works of fiction to display a certain bent, but I felt it inexcusable a major local novel having a glossary that ought to be neutrally factual, misinforms millions of readers all over the world who assume it is fact.
So annoyed was I about this rather than an aspect about the the novel itself – plot, characterisation, quality of writing – that I gave Meyer's books a miss until the other day when I picked up a later one, Icarus (2015).
Now, I've read a number of his books, mainly about his moody, brooding, alcoholic murder detective Benny Griessel. Of course, all detective protagonists must have a questionable past or personal or professional character flaws or foibles to humanise him, or so authors think, so the reader can identify with him on some level and therefore, sink the hook into his interest. Why he (or she) cannot be a normal person just doing the job of investigating, as the majority of police men and women are, is something creative writing schools probably don't advise.
The Griessel character is likeable, though, and that says more about Meyer's writing than Griessel's personal problems. Also, why I like the Griessel books is the frisson from reading about city locales and names we're familiar with. Another recent convert to Meyer's books told me so too. In his favour is he uses the real names of shops, media, etc and not substituted made-up names.
Meyer is good at descriptions of characters' motivations and emotional backgrounds. But I find his dialogues forced, contrived and sometimes unrealistic, comic-book sounding, as if that's the way he thinks people in real life speak and interact with each other.
However, he writes in Afrikaans and this may be a problem with his translator KL Seegers and that some of the nuance of the original language is being lost in translation. I read one of his books in the original Afrikaans, but because I'm not fluent, it was hard going. I read the English version later and found some of the dialogue corny as I describe above.
The other issue with his writing is today people in South Africa, and even in the fictional police universe in his books, don't relate to each other intra- and extra-racially as he writes they do. Here too there is a faux, forced and coy/cute identification of characters' race vis-a-vis another's. I notice it doesn't happen, or not so much, when the characters are white interacting with other whites. So, to Meyer brown and black people are different.
While there are a few South African crime writers, I've seldom been interested to explore beyond the confines of my narrow circle. It's part familiarity with the known and part unwilling to try new authors.
But Cape Town Afrikaans writer Deon Meyer is one I've read from time to time. I dropped him a few years ago out of an intense irritation then with his misrepresentation of the social and historical context of Cape Town's brown community, otherwise known as "coloureds".
To be exact, it wasn't a misrepresentation in the body of the novel per se, but his, his publisher's or translator's historically outdated and incorrect description, one harking from the apartheid-era, of them in the glossary. It was, I think, in his 2014 novel Cobra.
The first mistake was its use of the term "Cape Coloured" to describe Cape Town's brown people. That went out of fashion at the end of apartheid and even then wasn't used that much. The problem with it is even under apartheid's notorious Population and Registrations Act of 1950, which defined the county's populations by race group, coloureds (to use the term in the act, colloquially even today in an allegedly race blind democratic South Africa) weren't sub-classified into Cape and those from other regions or by ancestral ethnicity. From Meyer's glossary (2014):
“The Cape Flats, a vast area east of Cape Town, (is) where the majority of ‘Cape Coloured’ people reside. ‘Coloured people’ refers to the descendants of Malaysian slaves, who inter-married with white farmers and local Khoi people – as opposed to blacks (descendants of Bantu people) and whites (descendants of European people.)”
While the Cape Flats is indeed where typically brown and black people call home, whites reside there too. However, still today, more than 300 years after Dutch colonialists arrived in Table Bay, all brown people from these here parts, as distinct from “coloureds” in the Eastern Cape or elsewhere, are pronounced, and presumed by Meyer et al to have Malay, Khoi and Dutch bloodlines. As if 300 years of intermixing, especially post-1990s when marriage among South Africa’s races became common, never happened.
Brown people (the term logically fits with “white” and “black”; “coloured” doesn’t) who were born and raised on the Cape Peninsula and those who migrated here from other parts of the country, come from generations of home-grown brown and the intermixing of European, African, Indian, Asian and other ancestry. They are South Africa’s “rainbow” of peoples, and display a variety of social, religious and cultural adherences, unlike their homogenous countrymen.
Perhaps I read something into an innocuous definition in Meyer's glossary that wasn't there. But it was unfortunate, irritating and wrong that apartheid-era misconceptions still remain including with an author of international renown whose books are translated into many languages. It’s one thing for characters and plots in works of fiction to display a certain bent, but I felt it inexcusable a major local novel having a glossary that ought to be neutrally factual, misinforms millions of readers all over the world who assume it is fact.
So annoyed was I about this rather than an aspect about the the novel itself – plot, characterisation, quality of writing – that I gave Meyer's books a miss until the other day when I picked up a later one, Icarus (2015).
Now, I've read a number of his books, mainly about his moody, brooding, alcoholic murder detective Benny Griessel. Of course, all detective protagonists must have a questionable past or personal or professional character flaws or foibles to humanise him, or so authors think, so the reader can identify with him on some level and therefore, sink the hook into his interest. Why he (or she) cannot be a normal person just doing the job of investigating, as the majority of police men and women are, is something creative writing schools probably don't advise.
The Griessel character is likeable, though, and that says more about Meyer's writing than Griessel's personal problems. Also, why I like the Griessel books is the frisson from reading about city locales and names we're familiar with. Another recent convert to Meyer's books told me so too. In his favour is he uses the real names of shops, media, etc and not substituted made-up names.
Meyer is good at descriptions of characters' motivations and emotional backgrounds. But I find his dialogues forced, contrived and sometimes unrealistic, comic-book sounding, as if that's the way he thinks people in real life speak and interact with each other.
However, he writes in Afrikaans and this may be a problem with his translator KL Seegers and that some of the nuance of the original language is being lost in translation. I read one of his books in the original Afrikaans, but because I'm not fluent, it was hard going. I read the English version later and found some of the dialogue corny as I describe above.
The other issue with his writing is today people in South Africa, and even in the fictional police universe in his books, don't relate to each other intra- and extra-racially as he writes they do. Here too there is a faux, forced and coy/cute identification of characters' race vis-a-vis another's. I notice it doesn't happen, or not so much, when the characters are white interacting with other whites. So, to Meyer brown and black people are different.
Among themselves and in society the average non-whites are like whites and are not as obsessed with race or economic status as Meyer thinks they are. They don't self-reference those aspects every chance they get. This leads me to believe Meyer doesn't know or socialise with people of other races (he's white).
The third issue is his description of the South African Police (SAPS) organisation milieu. A few novels ago Griessel was absorbed into the police's elite unit, the Directorate for Priority Crime Investigation (DPCI) aka Hawks when his former unit, the Murder and Robbery Squad, was disbanded. This happened in real life and is factual.
Meyer wants readers to believe the Hawks, to give it is common name, is an efficient unit feared by the public and criminals alike. I'm making allowances this is fiction and to state otherwise is to reduce his character's, Griessel's and his police colleagues', credibility and effectiveness.
But the fact is SAPS including Hawks, which had troubled political origins after its predecessor the Scorpion became to good for its own good and the Zuma government disbanded it, have a poor reputation among the public. The perception based on fact is they're mostly incompetent, or so-so at best, ineffective, politically compromised and used for political/ANC turf wars. Perhaps Griessel's Cape Town-based unit is better and above that.
But Meyer gives little to no indication of the wider machinations within the organisation, except affirmative action where blacks are being appointed over whites, and policing constraints.
He also wants us to believe that police – stations and investigators – take statements and record other evidence within 24 hours or few days of a crime been reported or evidence obtained when that's far from the truth.
The fact is it's very difficult for victims of crime and their families to get in contact with the police and in-depth statements are not taken or only weeks or months later or often never. Most likely, case dockets are incomplete even until they're presented to the prosecutor as I've experienced.
In Icarus Benny falls hard off the wagon and starts drinking again. In a bar he picks an argument with two patrons, one of whom punches him. His Hawks partner Vaughan Cupido fetches him from the police cells and is told he's been accused of assault. Cupido pleads with the bar owner not to press charges because a disciplinary against Griessel would result in suspension, an investigation and be damaging to his career.
This is a completely fictionalised version of how the police address complaints against members. It makes it good for the plot, though.
The South African Police Service and government departments generally are extremely reluctant to take action against members against whom complaints we laid. I know, I've done so.
They obstruct, obfuscate and deny, even with fairly serious administrative complaints, and eventually sweep it under the rug. A criminal charge might be handled differently, but unless the officer is formally brought up on charges in court and sent to prison, he gets to keep his job and is rarely suspended.
Of course, this would never work in a story. How would the crime be solved in 400 pages? And Meyer's and other writers' device is to make the crime – murder or what have you – high profile so the police are forced to do something.
Another is Meyer having his detective characters speak and address the public – witnesses, suspects, etc – informally as if they're speaking to friends and colleagues. This is pure fiction, and here it detracts from his stories' credibility.
The times I've dealt with the police over the years they've been formal and polite, addressing one by one's titles and respectfully. One can say many things about SAPS, e.g how hopeless they are professionally and ethically, but inappropriate conduct with and to the public is not one of them. Again, I wonder if Meyer thinks this is how the police conduct themselves, perhaps something from a 70s cop show.
Overall as a result of this, Meyer's Benny Griessel English-language novels lack a polish and believability. I must emphasis, though, that the original Afrikaans versions may not suffer this in all respects (their descriptions of a super-efficient Hawks untouched by the existing political and operational odour it finds itself in would be unbelievable too), and having read only one, and Afrikaans is a weak second language, I'm unable to judge.
He's not alone, though. Other crime novels by well-known international authors too have their problems so this may be a case of nitpicking. So for what it's worth and intended – light reading entertainment – Meyer's books are OK.
The third issue is his description of the South African Police (SAPS) organisation milieu. A few novels ago Griessel was absorbed into the police's elite unit, the Directorate for Priority Crime Investigation (DPCI) aka Hawks when his former unit, the Murder and Robbery Squad, was disbanded. This happened in real life and is factual.
Meyer wants readers to believe the Hawks, to give it is common name, is an efficient unit feared by the public and criminals alike. I'm making allowances this is fiction and to state otherwise is to reduce his character's, Griessel's and his police colleagues', credibility and effectiveness.
But the fact is SAPS including Hawks, which had troubled political origins after its predecessor the Scorpion became to good for its own good and the Zuma government disbanded it, have a poor reputation among the public. The perception based on fact is they're mostly incompetent, or so-so at best, ineffective, politically compromised and used for political/ANC turf wars. Perhaps Griessel's Cape Town-based unit is better and above that.
But Meyer gives little to no indication of the wider machinations within the organisation, except affirmative action where blacks are being appointed over whites, and policing constraints.
He also wants us to believe that police – stations and investigators – take statements and record other evidence within 24 hours or few days of a crime been reported or evidence obtained when that's far from the truth.
The fact is it's very difficult for victims of crime and their families to get in contact with the police and in-depth statements are not taken or only weeks or months later or often never. Most likely, case dockets are incomplete even until they're presented to the prosecutor as I've experienced.
In Icarus Benny falls hard off the wagon and starts drinking again. In a bar he picks an argument with two patrons, one of whom punches him. His Hawks partner Vaughan Cupido fetches him from the police cells and is told he's been accused of assault. Cupido pleads with the bar owner not to press charges because a disciplinary against Griessel would result in suspension, an investigation and be damaging to his career.
This is a completely fictionalised version of how the police address complaints against members. It makes it good for the plot, though.
The South African Police Service and government departments generally are extremely reluctant to take action against members against whom complaints we laid. I know, I've done so.
They obstruct, obfuscate and deny, even with fairly serious administrative complaints, and eventually sweep it under the rug. A criminal charge might be handled differently, but unless the officer is formally brought up on charges in court and sent to prison, he gets to keep his job and is rarely suspended.
Of course, this would never work in a story. How would the crime be solved in 400 pages? And Meyer's and other writers' device is to make the crime – murder or what have you – high profile so the police are forced to do something.
Another is Meyer having his detective characters speak and address the public – witnesses, suspects, etc – informally as if they're speaking to friends and colleagues. This is pure fiction, and here it detracts from his stories' credibility.
The times I've dealt with the police over the years they've been formal and polite, addressing one by one's titles and respectfully. One can say many things about SAPS, e.g how hopeless they are professionally and ethically, but inappropriate conduct with and to the public is not one of them. Again, I wonder if Meyer thinks this is how the police conduct themselves, perhaps something from a 70s cop show.
Overall as a result of this, Meyer's Benny Griessel English-language novels lack a polish and believability. I must emphasis, though, that the original Afrikaans versions may not suffer this in all respects (their descriptions of a super-efficient Hawks untouched by the existing political and operational odour it finds itself in would be unbelievable too), and having read only one, and Afrikaans is a weak second language, I'm unable to judge.
He's not alone, though. Other crime novels by well-known international authors too have their problems so this may be a case of nitpicking. So for what it's worth and intended – light reading entertainment – Meyer's books are OK.
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