K. Sello Duiker: Thirteen Cents

K. Sello Duiker seems like a very intriguing writer. I have not read any of his material, but after reading this review and learning about his suicide, I have put him on my list. Committed suicide at age thirty, yet another writer gone too soon.

Intro paragraphs to the review of Thirteen Cents published on The Mantle:

It is always a jarring to read a novel based in a place with which you are familiar. Turning pages, you smile to yourself as you read descriptions of places that you walk through every day. And as you read about what the fictional characters do there, you are reminded of your own experiences within and the history of that space, recognizing in the literary realm something of the real world. Sometimes the place is captured so realistically that when you find yourself walking past the actual statue, or coastal ocean view later that day, you wonder if that boy you just passed was the basis for one of the main characters, or if that man sitting with a pen and notebook on the bench is the author. When I learned that Thirteen Cents was about Cape Town, I became excited to see what K. Sello Duiker had to write about a city I love very much. But it did not take long for me to realize that this was a Cape Town I was neither familiar with, nor desired to know.

Lauded for his ability to graphically portray the gritty underground of a cruel urban landscape, South African author Duiker received prestigious awards for both Thirteen Cents and The Quiet Violence of Dreams (Kwela Books, 2001),1 before committing suicide at the young age of thirty. His debut novel, Thirteen Cents, follows the life of Azure, a street child roaming the avenues of contemporary, post-apartheid Cape Town, South Africa. The novel opens with Azure introducing himself to the reader, and as his first-person narration continues, his life and world come alive. Orphaned from a young age, the not-yet thirteen Azure lives alone. Except for the occasional company of a younger street child named Bafana, whom Azure sometimes deigns to play a father figure to, Azure survives, or so he says, by scavenging food from bins and earning money from parking cars.

It soon becomes clear, however, that his main source of income comes from prostitution, turning tricks for wealthy white males. Heartbreaking passages scattered throughout the story matter-of-factly describe Azure?s interaction with his clients. These sections are not easy to stomach, and the uncomplicated and easy-to-read first-person narration makes it that much more difficult. Moreover, Azure seems not to recognize the absurdity of his own claim that he is ?almost a man [who] can take care of [himself].? We are reminded how ridiculous this notion is by moments that remind us he is still very much a child?moments like in the shower at a client?s flat, where he cheerfully blows soap bubbles.

Continue reading the review Magical Realism in Cape Town's Underbelly | The Mantle.
 
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