Read an excerpt from the Women's Prize-longlisted CROOKED SEEDS by Karen Jennings
Crooked Seeds by Karen Jennings is an unforgettable, propulsive story of fractured families, collective guilt, the ways we become trapped in prisons of our own making, and how we can begin to break free.
A woman in post-apartheid South Africa confronts her family’s troubling past in this taut and daring novel about national trauma and collective guilt. Read an excerpt here:
Deidre went straight to the bar. “Double rum, Isaac.”
“Who’s paying?”
“Just put it on my tab.”
He shook his head. “No, man, your tab’s full. Vadi says nothing more until you’ve paid.”
“Jesus, he acts like I’m a fucking criminal. It’s only fucking Red Heart, not like I’m asking for the fancy shit.” She took a debit card from her bag, handed it across. “So, give me a Castle draft then, but go easy on the foam, okay. I don’t want the foam.”
She went to sit at a two-seater beside the window, waited for Isaac to carry the drink across for her. She watched him coming, his walk slow, the slop of foam over the rim of the glass maddening her, so that “Bring it,” she said under her breath, “bring it, bring it.” When he arrived, she followed his movements as he pulled a coaster closer and put the glass down in front of her. She placed her hands around the glass at once, feeling the cold of it, the wet, leaning forward until he was gone, then lifting it with trembling hands. She took a small sip at first, swallowing with difficulty, but then something loosened in her throat and she felt able to open wider, to take in more.
Her phone began to ring in her bag. She pulled it out, looked at the screen. Number withheld. She sucked in her cheeks, breathed out, letting it ring once more before answering. “Listen, stop calling here, okay. I’m not interested in your party or any other goddamn party. I’m not voting for anyone, so just stop fucking harassing me.”
“Miss van Deventer?”
“Who’s this?”
“Good morning, ma’am. This is Detective Constable Xaba from the Diep River branch of the South African Police Service. I have been trying to reach you for several days.”
“Oh. What you want?”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid there is a problem at your house—ˮ
“No, no, no, don’t start with that. It’s not my house anymore. It was taken away. It hasn’t been my house for two years.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand that the land was reclaimed, but the problem—ˮ
“That’s a nice word, isn’t it? Reclaimed. A house my father designed and built with his own hands, with his own hard work, his own money, but the government says no, we’re taking it. Oh yes, it’s very nice. Talking nice things about the past, the future, about water under the land, and kicking me out.”
“Ma’am, please, this has nothing to do with the land reclaim. You will have to take that up with the appropriate department. This is something else. You see, they have begun demolishing and levelling the area now, and some things have been found and we are asking you to come in and identify them.”
“What things? What you talking about?”
“Ma’am, if you come in then we can discuss that further.”
“Well, I can’t. I’m a cripple. I can’t get around.”
“Yes, ma’am, I see. We can send a car to fetch you.” There was a short pause. “At Oak Bend Center, is it?”
“No, I’m not there right now. I’m busy. I’m out.”
“Ma’am, I understand, but I’m afraid this is very important. It is a police investigation.”
“What you saying? What you investigating?”
“I’d prefer not to discuss it over the phone. Can I send a car for you tomorrow, will that be okay?”
Deidre coughed, cleared her throat. “Ja, okay.”
“Excellent, thank you. Detective Sergeant Mabombo will call for you at nine A.M.”
Deidre hung up, returned the phone to her bag. When she looked up, the TVs had been switched on, and all around the bar hooves were pounding on grass in vibrant color, racing toward an end they didn’t seem able to reach.
Crooked Seeds
by Karen Jennings
'Extraordinary ... unputdownable' Roddy Doyle
'An unsparing yet profoundly beautiful novel' Chigozie Obioma
A woman in post-apartheid South Africa confronts her family’s troubling past in this taut and daring novel about national trauma and collective guilt.