Set in contemporary Johannesburg the story follows an eclectic cast of characters as they work out their roles in a city where BEE rules, old stereotypes are smashed, criminals demand revenge on the justice system and protest is a weapon for anyone to use.

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BORN WILD JOHANNESBURG LAUNCH INVITATION

BORN WILD CAPE TOWN LAUNCH INVITATION

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 A memoir of

pop culture, girls

… and apartheid

“Such skill, such honesty and above all, such drop-everything-
and-laugh-out-loud humour.”
                                                                                      – Alexandra Fuller    

Ja, No, Man is an eerily familiar portrayal of the life of an ordinary white South African growing up during apartheid-era South Africa. Told with extraordinary humour and self-awareness, Richard’s story brings his gradual understanding of the difference between his country and the rest of the world vividly to life.

A startlingly original memoir that veers sharply from the quotidian to the bizarre and back again, Ja, No, Man is an enlightening, darkly hilarious and, at times, disturbing read.

THE AUTHOR

Richard was born in Johannesburg, South Africa, in 1973 and emigrated to Canada with his family in 1989. He trained as a film-maker and fine artist at Montreal’s Concordia University and has produced and directed numerous short films, music videos and commercials.  Now a full-time writer, he can be found learning to play polo, chasing big game in Africa, investigating German sub-sub cultures in Namibia, eating at TGI Fridays in the Middle East, bowling in Kazakhstan, racing Mercedes sports sedans in Russia – all for publications as diverse as THIS Magazine, Toronto Life, The Globe & Mail, CBC.ca/arts and Bicycling.

Ja, No, Man is his first book.

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Introducing Erica Emdon and Jelly Dog Days

I’m forty now. I’m not sure I’m recovered. I still feel like an outsider sometimes, looking in on the world from a strange vantage point. Like I went to an alien planet and have come back, but no one understands what I saw. I suppose I will always be like that.

Growing up in a working-class family in the 1960s and ‘70s, with her narcissistic and neglectful mother, Lizette, and her stepfather, Piet, a construction worker who spends much of his time away from home, Terry learns early on that childhood, at least for her, is a matter of survival. Those who are meant to protect and care for her increasingly exploit her, and as she watches her mother drag herself to and from her job at Harry’s Dry Cleaner’s each day, then sink into alcoholism and eventually relinquish all parental responsibility, it is left to Terry to become the caregiver and protector of her four younger siblings. The only real affection she is shown comes from the family’s nanny Sophie, with whom she forms a strong bond, and from Piet who, while proving to be the more attentive parent, nevertheless exacts a high price for his affection.
 
At twelve years old, Terry is unwittingly drawn into the student unrest of June 1976 when Sophie’s son Rex disappears in the political tumult of the time and she tries to help her find out what has happened to him. At the same time she finds herself on a treacherous and terrifying journey of her own that she is powerless to control, and as she watches her family disintegrate around her, she has to dig deep to find the strength to cope.

Terry’s intelligence, resilience and fortitude make her the irresistible, heartbreaking heroine of Jelly Dog Days. Despite everything that the universe throws at her, she retains a passion for life and an innate optimism that are truly remarkable.

Erica Emdon’s debut novel is a story of trust and betrayal but, more importantly, it is about survival and, to some extent, redemption.

About the author:
Erica Emdon was born in Johannesburg, where she still lives with her family. She works as a public interest lawyer at a non-governmental organisation, with a focus on children’s and women’s rights. Jelly Dog Days is her first novel.

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To read further click here   http://www.spud.penguinbooks.co.za/

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This may surprise you, but the over riding feeling i have after returning home to Durban after two months in Asia, is one of order. Now order isn’t a word one usually associates with South Africa – but there you have it. I am once again struck by the degree to which afro-pessimism frames so many people’s views when compartmentalizing our country. The other thing I have noticed since returning home, is the level of hype and anticipation about Learning To Fly. I expected a storm but this is looking more and more like a category 5 hurricane with a chip on its shoulder. This is the part of the job that always sounds the most glamorous to people, but can in some ways be more daunting than writing the book in the first place. The pre-publication launch, exactly a week from now shapes up to be a monumental event with my publishers determined to set a new record for a book launch in South Africa. I have warned them about the possibility of me developing an arthritic writing paw due to excessive book signing and hand shaking but it seems they thought i was joking. Now you may think this is a laughing matter (and it probably is) but Marian Keyes scared the death out of me at the Cape Town book fair in 2007 when she said that her arm had become mangled and deformed due to signing a million or so books too many. She was using a personalised stamp which made her seem like a fiery Irish librarian checking out books. I’ll do my best to avoid the stamp on the Learning To Fly book tour except of course for those of you who have an unnatural fetish for stationery.

 

And now for some apologies:

 

I apologise to the good people of Gauteng for the unseemly Spud, Learning to fly billboard that has been erected on the Ben Schoeman Highway between Johannesburg and Pretoria. This is just the sort of grandiose prank that the Penguins are famous for – particularly when I’m away. A traffic jam is bad enough without having local literature rammed down your throat as you sit trapped and gridlocked between a minibus, another minibus, and certain death. An apology too for those readers who have to squeeze past grotesque columns of Spud books in bookstores on their way to more edifying literature. I say blame Harry Potter, he started all this boarding school craziness in the first place.

 

So the first copies of Learning to Fly were waiting for me upon arrival. Unfortunately my father was overcome with curiosity over what he might or might not have done in his recent past, tore open the envelope, and became the first citizen to read the new book. The good news is that his review was favourable, the bad news is that my father couldn’t exactly say it was a pile of brown- – at least without breaking my heart. It was a surreal experience to open the book and feel its pages between my fingers. So many words, and so much time spent on those exact words. It was the moment when Spud – Learning To Fly no longer was the subject of my life, but the object of my labours. That switch from subject to object is enough to short circuit a brain as small as my own.

 

I began reading and everything was at once familiar, every line set off a “ping” of recollection in my head. I’m not going to tell you what i think of the book because that’s immaterial and probably wrong. What you, the reader think is everything, despite the fact that every reader probably thinks differently.

 

So here it is, the big countdown to launch. Every day takes us closer and the excitement and edginess is everywhere around me.

 

As David Bowie sings in a marvellous song quoted by Spud Milton on his way to school for the beginning of his third year:

 

Ground Control to major Tom

Ground Control to Major Tom

Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.

 

See you on the road

Johnny

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