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- <text id=91TT1733>
- <title>
- Aug. 05, 1991: Apartheid, He Wrote
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
- Aug. 05, 1991 Was It Worth It?
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- BOOKS, Page 58
- Apartheid, He Wrote
- </hdr><body>
- <p>In his mystery series about a white South African detective and
- his Zulu partner, James McClure digs up the truth about a racially
- divided society
- </p>
- <p>By William A. Henry III
- </p>
- <p> The development of series characters in fiction is almost
- always a triumph of commerce over art. No matter how interesting
- a character is, there is usually one right story about him or
- her, and a good writer finds it the first time. Shakespeare got
- just one play each out of Hamlet and Macbeth, and it is hard to
- imagine what remained for a sequel--or prequel.
- </p>
- <p> Readers, however, have an all but boundless appetite for
- revisiting accustomed pleasures. That is nowhere more true than
- in the mystery, whose audiences manifest, by their choice of
- genre, a taste for restoring established order. Victorians so
- yearned to watch Sherlock Holmes perform his tricks again and
- again that after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed him out of
- boredom, he gave in and resurrected the great detective. Dame
- Agatha Christie had the same murderous impulse toward Hercule
- Poirot, but slyly tucked the manuscript away until her demise.
- To this day, the first thing publishers ask is whether a mystery
- can become a series, a literary annuity.
- </p>
- <p> The mystery-by-installment plan can, however, record
- almost journalistically a sequence of social change. Maj Sjowall
- and Per Wahloo reflected, in their Martin Beck series, the
- decay of the socialist dream in Sweden; Joseph Hansen provided
- a time line on gay life in the U.S. in his Dave Brandstetter
- series. No current mystery writer has better exploited this
- potential--or better served readers with riveting storytelling
- and acutely observed human nature--than James McClure in his
- eight novels about two South African policemen. The cheerily
- crass Boer, Tromp Kramer, and his wily "kaffir" partner, Mickey
- Zondi, were introduced in The Steam Pig, published in 1971.
- Their teamwork, affectionate but circumscribed, full of macho
- blarney and teasing but also tinged with racial irony, subtly
- evoked the quirky diplomacy of a society where whites insist on
- ruling but all parties know that cannot happen without black
- help. The six succeeding novels brought the relationship into
- the mid-1980s and showed each man becoming gradually more
- sophisticated about the other's world, as in life the barriers
- have slowly fallen between South Africa's ruling elite and its
- black majority.
- </p>
- <p> In his latest novel, The Song Dog (Mysterious Press; 274
- pages; $17.95), McClure goes back to the beginning--or,
- rather, before the beginning. The Song Dog concerns the cases
- that brought Kramer and Zondi together: two private vendettas,
- one black and one white, that are misunderstood as political
- terrorism. The action is set in 1962, mostly during the week
- when Nelson Mandela was taken into custody. That arrest, and its
- long-term deforming consequences for South African society,
- plays an oblique but significant role in the narrative--especially in the distant fate foretold for the team in the
- novel's final paragraphs. Despite the deep optimism inherent in
- depicting their relationship, McClure ends in glints of gloom.
- He implies that no such bond can survive forever the fire storm
- of that nation's rage.
- </p>
- <p> Part of what makes any fiction fun is the inversion of
- expectations. Kramer, the ruling white, is the team's
- iconoclast, full of scorn for procedure and authority. He is
- expedient, intemperate, womanizing and often drunk. Zondi, the
- oppressed black who for reasons of race earns a modest fraction
- of his partner's pay, is a convent-educated conformist. By the
- chronological end of the series he is a dutiful husband,
- attentive father and slightly stodgy bourgeois citizen. Each is
- responding to his social position: white Kramer can afford the
- luxury of defiance, but black Zondi cannot.
- </p>
- <p> The series' second great theme, along with race, has been
- sex. McClure plainly believes that any society so rigidly
- ordered is also deeply repressed--and is therefore quite
- wanton in the back rooms. Nearly all the crimes investigated by
- the team have involved passion or jealousy, and the solutions
- have often depended on the ability of one partner to look with
- an outsider's jaundiced eye on the habits and mores of the
- other's culture. That technique is evident in The Song Dog, the
- title of which refers to a tribal folkloric figure who speaks
- in Delphic riddles. Once Kramer formally meets Zondi, halfway
- through the book--after assuming he is a Bantu hoodlum, not
- an undercover cop--they quickly form a bond. Kramer is not a
- white of great racial sensitivity, or Zondi a black of great
- deference. But they respect each other because they keep
- reaching the same conclusions--while reflecting cultural
- differences by getting there through divergent, if equally
- plausible, chains of reasoning.
- </p>
- <p> The third big theme is snooping. Just as South Africa's
- government engages in constant surveillance, so, in McClure's
- vision, do its citizens spy on one another, usually out of
- jealousy or greed. The consequences are often fatal. This
- peeping and prying is a focus of The Steam Pig and of two other
- memorable entries: The Caterpillar Cop and The Gooseberry Fool.
- Fittingly, Zondi and Kramer meet in The Song Dog after
- surreptitiously trailing each other, each in search of clues to
- his own case.
- </p>
- <p> McClure writes rich, vigorous prose, full of snarky humor
- but never in a way that undercuts the deadly drive of the
- narrative. And he is as sadly witty about individuals as about
- their troubled nation. Here is Kramer in The Song Dog, surveying
- the wares at a rundown country store: "On the crowded shelf of
- cigarettes and pipe tobacco, he saw, for the first time in
- years, the little cotton bags of shag his father had smoked to
- excess, so crude it came complete with tobacco stalks. Good
- stuff, that shag: it had given the old bastard the long,
- lingering, thoroughly horrible death he'd deserved." Nothing
- more is said about that father-son relationship--and nothing
- is needed. That is characteristic of the eight novels as a
- whole: they are an unsentimental journey to the heart of a
- problem.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
-