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Read The Smell Of Apples (1997)

The Smell of Apples (1997)

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Rating
3.57 of 5 Votes: 1
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ISBN
0312152094 (ISBN13: 9780312152093)
Language
English
Publisher
picador

The Smell Of Apples (1997) - Plot & Excerpts

As a Grade 12 student in South Africa, I was obligated to read a South African novel of my choice, in compliance with our syllabus. Although it sounds terribly unpatriotic of me, I don't care much for South African literature. Although I am proud of my country and its population, I feel little connection to its history (perhaps because my parents only arrived here from Cyprus and Romania in 1992); this country's history is plagued by propagandistic and imperialist foreign powers who exploited the people and the land for their own benefit -- such disgusts me. However, hearing the same refrain -- Apartheid was evil -- in every South African novel can become excessively tedious.*Warning: Here Be Spoilers*I must say that "The Smell of Apples" functioned as an interesting case study in the extent of indoctrination of the South African youth: the beliefs that "coloureds" and "Bantus" had "different blood," were "unreliable," "dishonest" and "stupid" were considered scientific fact; South Africa was "nothing" before the white people came; South Africa was "given" to the white foreigners by God and they were obligated to "protect it from the blacks" and the supposed minions of the Antichrist (aka the "evil communists"). Beyond that, this novel was a mind-numbingly boring story about a rich little Afrikaaner boy who worshipped his "perfect" father (revealed to be a psychotic paedophile), idolised his mother (to the point where my inner Freudian would jump up and down while pointing and shrieking "Oediopus Complex"), an annoying big sister (cliché much?) and a mentally inferior, abusive best friend. "The Smell of Apples" was a meagre 200 pages, but it took me days to persevere through this book. Initially, I had thought that I had chosen a children's book by mistake, due to the immaturity of the prepubescent ignoramus who served as the narrator -- until one of the scenes occupying the 1988 time frame comprised of a one-page description of the protagonist's penis. I didn't know quite what to do with that information. I felt as if the author included the scenes from the war-torn future, as well as random incidences of sexual abuse and supposed and/or actual infidelity, in order to supply a brief reprieve from the monotony of the actual plot. Also, just as the novel would begin to introduce some interesting material, the author nipped the seemingly fascinating trajectory of the story, and instead gave us more fickle, bland monologue of the protagonist -- this was only a relief when the book actually ended.Unfortunately, we were left with unanswered questions: -What did Ilse want to tell Marnus after their father beat him?-Did Marnus "forgive and forget" his father's disgusting act of violence against his "blood-brother?"-What became of Marnus' and Frikkie's relationship? And were they more kind to Zelda now that Marnus thinks she's "pretty?"In conclusion, the only effect this book had on me was an increase in my disgust of imperialism and propaganda, and a feeling that I exchanged my valuable time for a pointless novel and permanent emotional scarring.

This book is about a young boy growing up Afrikaan during the 1970s South African apartheid era in a fairly privileged family with an authoritative father. The child narrator was a great move here by Mark Behr because even though I did not agree with the views of the narrator, I was able to see things from that point of view. Very descriptive prose in some places, great use of dialogue to showcase character flaw. Though the book really did not talk about apartheid as I thought it would, it discussed racial and social divisions with much brevity. The main character's father was an army man whose ideologies were passed to his family: South Africa was given to him by God and he would fight to keep his country from black South Africans--even the apples in South Africa was their doing, he told his son. Eleven-year-old Marnus gets to show this environment through the mind of a child and as a reader, you get to experience his environment with him, hear about what he thinks of people who are not like him, learn as he learns, feel his devastating moments with him. The simultaneous usage of past and present tense narrative style really worked well in this case.Until the adult narrator comes in. Why Behr decided to have inner thoughts of the adult narrator scattered throughout the chapters, baffles me. You get this parallelism: young Marnus, and adult Marnus who is a soldier fighting in Angola. Details about the war? Nothing. Transition to the war? Nothing. Instead you get random thoughts (some scenes)...so confusing it makes you want to stick with the child narrator.As for the character flaws, it was hard to remember or love the narrator because you don't get to see the learned young man at the end. Sure, there's something that happens at the end that changes his perspective but you don't get to see the character change. There is also an incident that happens to him as a soldier (won't spoil it) but again, you learn about it through these weird snippets in the book.

What do You think about The Smell Of Apples (1997)?

I have to revise some of my previous remarks and rating of this novel as I proceed to write my paper. While there is not much in way of stylistic beauty (perhaps the most significant attribute for me in reading a novel), I think that it is acute in its observations of the way that the family and nation place heteronormative policing pressures on an individual, our poor 11-year old Marnus. I would love to spend more time thinking about how it utilizes Moby Dick as an intertext. It's definitely using MD to think about violent escape from society, homosocicalized identity, and race. The white whale is swimming in the backdrop of this novel in some really elegant ways (that's funny b/c there is a bay behind the Erasmus household where whales can be seen). I wish I would have spent more time with MD to understand all that Behr is doing. Finally, I think it achieves an authentic examination of Afrikaner prejudice and the rhetorical reversal that Afrikaners engaged in to frame themselves as victims. It puts pressure on this stale idea with the intertext of Moby Dick and the very closely juxtaposed ideas of homophobia. By the by, there are several luminous critical essays that fully wrench the juices for the text.
—David

Ahhh... the dénouement! Defined by Wikipedia it isa series of events that follow the climax of a drama or narrative, and thus serves as the conclusion of the story ... from the Old French word denoer, "to untie", and from nodus, Latin for "knot." Simply put, dénouement is the unraveling or untying of the complexities of a plot.Sounds easy, but why then is there such a problem with just this aspect of so many novels, and this one is no exception.It is the story of Marnus, a pre-adolescent Afrikaner boy, told in his own words and in his own style. The language is perfect for a young boy and the images and episodes are vividly portrayed. The descriptions of his sister, parents, his best buddy, and the young girl they love to torment, are charming and brutal at the same time. Every now and then Marnus' adult voice is heard. He is a soldier, fighting in Angola and it is 1988.But something is not quite right. There is a lot of tension, political and social, in the family as well, and even a young boy cannot escape noticing it. It is, after all, the 1970s. The whole world is in political and social turmoil.The climax of the story duly arrives, and while I couldn't exactly see it coming, I could feel it coming; I knew it was there, that it had to be there. I was totally confused by the attempt to tie the climax of the childhood memory with the climax of the present day soldier's memory, so I waited for the dénouement. And here I was sorely disappointed, because it was not trotted out, which is a shame, because there were several lovely possibilities, none of which was used.I loved the language and the feeling of the beginning of the story and the perfect portrayal of this, I assume, typical Christian Afrikaner family, but cannot give it more than 3.5 stars. Nope, after some reflection gone down to 2.5.
—Hayes

This was a striking book about South Africa in the 1970s with a consideration of the harrowing legacy of this period. Whether or not they agree with it, most students of colonial/post-colonial literature are familiar with Frederic Jameson's controversial thesis made in 1986 that all third-world literature is national allegory. Personally, I think that because an author loses control of his work once a reader picks it up to read, it is difficult to come to a conclusive decision such as this one. Certainly a student of post-colonial literature might pick up a work and be looking for such allegory and draw conclusions in line with Jameson's argument. Although I wouldn't today classify South Africa as "third world" (the whole scheme of first, second, and third world has become messier after the end of the Cold War)I think it's worth considering how Behr's debut novel fits into Jameson's thesis. I think that neatly packaging The Smell of Apples as national allegory is misguided, although the history of South Africa (or characters' abuse thereof)deeply influences the novel, there is more than that. Marnus's story shows how the legacy of South African fathers' (I say fathers because I think the book mainly emphasizes the father-son relationship, plus South Africa in this period was quite a masculine society) affects lives of their sons. It explores the relationship between father and son at a period when the father is still his son's hero, and the way influence (or perhaps indoctrination) is possible at this point. But there is also a less political influence and more horrific influence-- the rape. I'm still trying to think about how this is used at a symbolic level; but at the literal level it is a horrific moment and clearly demonstrates another, darker, legacy of fathers.The use of Moby Dick as an inter-text is interesting. I was uncertain about the purpose until the exchange between Ilse and Mr. Smith (the General). I like that Marnus can't grasp the symbolic meaning of his favorite book, it shows how he is still innocent and reliant on other people for his "bigger picture" understandings, demonstrating the danger of the racist, sexist, so many other "ists" ideas of his father and other fathers of South Africa. Marnus reads an abridged version of Moby Dick "for children" similar to how his history of South Africa he receives from his father is a simplified one for children. But Ilse suggests that the real Moby Dick is fundamentally about having to choose between two sides. Ishmael must choose between Queequeg and Ahab and betwee wha they represent. This choice is mirrored in the characters of Ilse an Marnus. So the book is obviously a South African novel. But I think that its structure could be taken out of this context and applied to many other modern states that use a manipulation of history to prosper; it explores the way youth are raised to honor and protect a state based on lies and the fathers who perpetuate these untruths. The damage is unsettling and so is this poignant novel.
—Jennifer

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