Reading

In my teens and early twenties, my reading was a mixed-bag, filled with crime, thrillers, adventure, humour, westerns, biographies, etc. It was an eclectic mix, random and whatever took my fancy at the time. I was reading for pleasure, enjoying reading for the sake of reading, reading for the joy of it.

I would binge read much in the same way that we binge watching movies and TV these days. I read several of the books in The Pop Larkin Chronicles Series by H.E. Bates, The Darling Buds of May comes to mind, the novels by Eric Van Lustbader (Nicholas Linear series) with its martial arts and sensuous elements, the novels by Gerald Seymour with interesting plots, the novels by Frederick Forsyth with their political intrigue, and a couple of books by John Irving.

Over time, my reading evolved. I became less interested in crime, thrillers, adventure, and western novels to the extent that they virtually disappeared from my reading interests. I developed a stronger interest in books that dealt with societal issues or with an underlying sociological context (how do human beings fit into society). For example, in the novel Germinal by Emile Zola, poverty is depicted in raw detail.

As my political consciousness grew, my reading became more serious. The change came with the types of novels I was reading. They had strong political themes and undertones. For example, the Irish struggle for independence from the English, racial issues in the United States, the anti-colonial struggles in Africa, the state of post-colonialism in Africa, and closer to home, the political struggle in South Africa.

I read the books by African-American writers such as Richard Wright, James Baldwin, and Langston Hughes. I came across the African Writers Series in the university library which introduced me to the writings of Chinua Achebe, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Bessie Head, Gabriel Okara, Wole Soyinka, and many other writers I cannot remember. In terms of the books by South African authors I read, I can remember writers such as André Brink, Peter Abrahams, Mongane Wally Serote, Ahmed Essop, Alan Paton, Richard Rive, Alex La Guma, Achmat Dangor, and Njabulo Ndebele.

The evolution in reading also shifted from fiction to non-fiction: Steve Biko’s I Write What I Like, Frantz Fanon’s Wretched of the Earth, Sow the Wind: Contemporary Speeches by Neville Alexander, Decolonising the Mind by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, and Frantz Fanon and the Psychology of Oppression by Hussein Bulhan.  Much later on, I read My Traitor’s Heart by Rian Malan and Country of My Skull by Antjie Krog.

My reading had taken a chapter change, reading had become a serious endeavour!

What I read during my tween years doesn’t come easily to mind.  I know that I devoured the Hardy Boys series, eagerly finishing one book and starting with another soon thereafter.

I can’t recall when I stumbled onto the Western books by J.T. Edson, but I can clearly remember they were favourites of mine.  Two regular characters in these books come to mind, Dusty Fog and The Ysabel Kid.  Fond memories.

Somewhere in the mix, I also read the Roy of the Rovers comic books as well as the Archie and Jughead ones.  These books formed part of my everyday life during my days in Kensington.

My teenage and early twenties were spent reading mostly novels and fiction. Some titles that come to mind are The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.  At one stage I kept a list of all the books I had read. Sadly, the list is no more and many of the books were donated to charity.

A friend triggered my memory about the photo-story books that were very popular in the 1970s and 1980s. There were titles in English and Afrikaans, such as Tessa, Kid Colt, Ruiter in Swart, Grensvegter, Melody, Kyk, See, Saboteur, and many others.  We owned a corner café in Elsies River, which is a cliché about Indians and corner shops. Therefore, I had regular access to photo-story books. When you love to read, you read anything!

Most of my reading was done at night.  In the daytime, we worked at our corner shop (not an enjoyable experience if you are young), so I had to wait until the shop closed at night to go back to reading. I would read from about 9 pm until 1 am. I was immersed in reading. I often read a book from cover to cover within one sitting. It should come as no surprise that I am a night owl.

My first recollection of reading goes back to when I was about seven years old. In 1972, my parents with my brothers and sisters had all gone to India (I think by ship). For some obscure reason (the way I see it), I did not accompany the family, with some explanation that I needed to start primary schooling (Standard One). I went to live with my mom’s family in Kensington and attended Windermere Primary School.

I ‘discovered’ the public library in Kensington in walking distance to where I lived. I recall going to the library, but the details are vague. I have memories of going to the library very frequently and reading book-upon-book.

It would be prudent at this stage to inform that no-one in my immediate family has a love for reading or books to the extent that I do. My dad is an avid cricket follower and I recall him having a collection of cricket magazines. I have vivid memories of paging through my dad’s Wisden cricket magazines and his collection of the Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack. I should thus attribute some of reading interest to my dad!

My sojourns to the public library in Kensington would soon be disrupted. I learned to my dismay that the Kensington Public Library was going to be converted to a reference library. At the age of seven years, I had no idea what a reference library was, but I did understand that children would no longer be able go that library. A new public library was built in Factreton. I eventually did end up going to the library in Factreton, but once again cannot recall who took me there.

The distance to walk to the library in Factreton was much longer. From home to the library was about 2kms and the roundtrip about 45 minutes. If my memory serves me correctly, I did this trip at least twice a week. Upon reflection, I am somewhat surprised that my family allowed me to do this walk all on my own!