The Promise, Damon Galgut
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For three decades, South African author Damon Galgut has been writing about his country and examining the changing experiences of its white communities.
The Promise, Galgut’s ninth novel, focuses on the Swart family, descendants of Voortrekker settlers. Beginning in 1986, the novel begins with the death of Rachel, a Jewish mother of three on a smallholding outside Pretoria, and the aftermath of this moment is explored through four sections set at intervals of around ten years, focusing mainly on the three Swart children: Anton, a military deserter, Astrid, a frustrated housewife; and Amor, the outsider who escapes the family’s farm to become a nurse.
Galgut’s third-person narration is distinct and cleverly polyphonic; he shifts between characters, sometimes even mid-sentence, revealing innermost fears and shifting perspectives. There is a central thread, however, that weaves throughout the unfolding narrative – an elusive promise made by Manie, Rachel’s husband, on his dying wife’s deathbed. It was her wish that Salome, their black maid, would inherit the property she lived in while working for the family, and Manie assures his wife he will act on her request. Following her death, however, Manie appears complacent about this promise, which was only heard by the youngest sibling, Amor. Her siblings show little interest in this act of kindness and appreciation and thus, Manie’s vow remains unfulfilled, and the frustration Amor harbours about the forgotten promise endures over the years.
There is an undeniably political undertone that runs throughout the novel, as each interval is punctuated with seismic moments in South African history, from the accession of Nelson Mandela, the 1995 Rugby World Cup and Mbeki’s inauguration. While it might be too simplistic to describe the unkept promise as a symbol for South Africa’s larger failings, it’s clear that Galgut is signalling to the existence of wider hopes, disappointments, and moral shortcomings; furthermore, when the reader realises the significance of each chapter’s title, it could be said that this failed promise has morphed into a curse that endures through the decades.
Perhaps the most poignant aspect of this novel is the realisation that, although so much has changed over the years, a complete sense of justice and reconciliation hasn’t been reached. When the book opens in 1986, South African law states that Salome wouldn’t be able to legally own her property and, even though this law changes, the justice system in place recognises a prior historical claim to the land. In other words, even if Salome is given the rights to the house she has lived in for decades, she remains at risk of eviction.
As both a devastating allegory of South African history and an incredibly accomplished piece of writing, The Promise is a deserving winner of the highest literary accolade.
Review featured in the Family issue
