Jacket Notes
It took a lot of plak (courage). I wasn’t sure that I would be able to pull it off. More so because, as a lawyer, I’d decided to write a memoir in which my groundbreaking classaction cases would be central features.
The first step was to undo years of training and experience in thinking like a lawyer. I couldn’t help but recall the ’80s TV series Beste Professor (The Paper Chase), in which Professor Kingsfield tells his students: “Julle kom hier met ’n skedel vol gemors maar sal hierna dink soos prokureurs” (You come here with heads full of mush but you’ll leave thinking like lawyers). In writing Class Action,
I had to undo everything Kingsfield had set out to achieve by unwinding my legal brain and turning it back into mush. It took me more than 10 years to accomplish.
Wading through the mush afforded me an opportunity to discover who I really was. It was a frightening yet liberating experience that led to catharsis, but I had no idea how to turn this into a beautifully told story.
I didn’t simply want to write my life story, I wanted to paint it. It took me a while to figure out how to do this, but it eventually occurred to me that streets of the Cape Flats where I was born, grew up and spent most of my young adult life were the canvas upon which to paint my story. This background included the abject poverty of my childhood and adolescence during the height of apartheid, the violent community in which I was trapped, desperately trying to escape through school achievements, and the obstacles I faced every step on my path out.
Running a busy legal practice during the day meant I could only write in the wee hours of the night and morning, or by stealing precious family time on weekends. Writing requires discipline but often I was struck by writer’s block. It frustrated me to the point of wanting to give up. Yet at my lowest moment I found the strength to pull through after scraping the last bit of creative marrow from deep inside me.
My publisher was kind enough to assign one of their best local writers to guide me through the writing process. He helped me keep my brush on the canvas. Once the manuscript was complete, the publishing team helped me with the editing. The picture that emerged after more than a decade was astonishing — a beautifully broken flower. It’s like Japanese kintsukuroi, the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken and remade.
Class Action by Charles Abrahams is published by Penguin Random House South Africa, R250