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 demise. The rebellion’s chief, Galant, used to be raised along the lads who may 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 kin 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 sequence of Voices is equivalent to William Faulkner’s Absalom, Absalom!; it's a attractive and haunting representation of racism’s plague on South Africa.
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Additional info for A Chain of Voices
Gulls. Sailors strutting about on stiff legs and offering wads of dollars for rolled tobacco and brandy, if you could smuggle the kegs past the hawk-eyed agents of the East India Company. There was a fair at Green Point. Cape carts on the green grass. Races. Women in outlandish clothes. Hottentots clustered on one side, smoking and staring through narrow eyeslits. It was Alida who took me there. A niece of Uncle Jan de Villiers 25 chainofvoices_internals 7/16/07 4:33 PM Page 26 ANDRÉ BRINK whose name Pa had mentioned long ago.
Everything is dead quiet, as if a giant horse has suddenly been reined in. One moment I can still hear Nicolaas shouting something. Then the lion is on top of him. Both tumble down in a small cloud of dust. Then the men come falling and scrambling down from the little tree. Nicolaas sits up slowly and starts dusting himself very 48 chainofvoices_internals 7/16/07 4:33 PM Page 49 A CHAIN OF VOICES meticulously. I start running, my arms flailing. We grab each other, dancing and laughing in mad joy.
This is a final test of strength: and you’re not a man unless you can walk up the stone stairs to the loft with a full bag on your shoulders. “Hup! ” And at last it is flung down and stacked with the rest. It is at Lagenvlei that harvesting and threshing usually begin; from there we work our way round the mountain, past Houd-den-Bek as far as the turn-off at Wagendrift. One farm after the other. When you’ve cut your way through them all you know you can do a man’s work. The harvest home, the year gradually quietens down, except for the bean-harvest and the vineyards; but in these parts there isn’t much treading to do, nothing like across the mountains in the winelands of Tulbagh and Worcester.
A Chain of Voices by Andre Brink