Sunday Times

READS OF THE YEAR

We rounded up a bunch of book lovers to ask what their favourite reads of 2023 were.

- Compiled by Mila de Villiers

Lost Property by Megan Choritz swept me into its pages and didn’t let me go until the final word was read. The gorgeous prose and imagery create a melancholy lyricism. Interviewi­ng the author earlier this year for the Sunday Times was a privilege. Her tale will stay with me for a long, long time.

Tiah Beautement

Finding Endurance: Shackleton, my father and a world without end by Darrel Bristow-Bovey. A black-painted sailing ship minus her masts, sitting on the seabed just so, discovered 2km beneath the icy seas off Antarctica. After Endurance sank, crushed by the ice, it took 106 years to find her. And Ernest Shackleton’s heroic legend only grew bigger. Bristow-Bovey had dreamt of Endurance since he was six. And so we embark on a magical journey of wonderment, then and now, memoir and myth enmeshed in a literary passage every bit as memorable as Shackleton’s. If the lyricism of the writing doesn’t enthrall you, nothing will.

Jenny Crwys-Williams

Zadie Smith’s The Fraud. Having read all six of her novels, one feels oneself to be in an author-reader relationsh­ip: a lovely, albeit fragile thing. Journeying with Smith from her debut novel White Teeth, with its luminous sentences and irreverent plot, when she was only 25 years old, to the current historical novel with its heart and depth and humour is a small joy in a troubled world. The Fraud is the best of Smith: ironic, sharp in prose and observatio­n. It follows the life of Eliza Touchet and notable men of the early 19th century, author William Ainsworth and Andrew Bogle — a black Jamaican, once enslaved, and unusually pivotal to a sensationa­l fraud trial of that day. Charles Dickens ’ s influence (he makes a cameo appearance) in writing character and the episodic structure used here, is clearly rendered.

CA Davids

Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story by Bono. Bono has always been a polarising personalit­y — brilliant if you’re a fan, brash (at best) if you’re not — but never boring. Coming from a man and an artist who has never seemed to accept that there is only one way to do things, it’s unsurprisi­ng that Surrender is an unconventi­onal memoir, as much philosophy and introspect­ion as it is a revisiting and explanatio­n of many of the highlights and challenges experience­d by the A-list singer and activist and his band, U2. Here are gathered the musings and insights of a brain both acute and constantly curious, often seeing the potential in some new creation or cause before really understand­ing what it is or how it works. Like the best of U2’s songs, this is a hit that makes you think.

Bruce Dennill

The volume to which I’ve returned most often this past year is Night Transit, PR Anderson’s poetry collection. Anderson is one of those poets whose work has the richness, density and mystery that repay repeated rereading; the poems often seen to reconfigur­e themselves when revisited. Night Transit is more public-facing than his previous collection, In a Free State, a work that felt more dreamed than written. These are poems of journeys and places, and being in-between places, intertwine­d with personal and communal histories that inhabit their very landscapes.

Shaun de Waal

Yet another book on Nelson Mandela, I thought, holding the 550-page Winnie & Nelson: Portrait of a Marriage. But by Jonny Steinberg — that wizard with the written word! I was hooked. Years of meticulous research, with hundreds of interviews with those closest to this tragic, unique and historic couple, have resulted in the finest book yet on the Mandelas. Steinberg takes us deep into the Eastern Cape princess’s young life, the gorgeous yet forceful young woman ’ s arrival in turbulent Joburg, and the allure she exerted on the then dandyish, handsome Mandela. One of the most compelling, and saddest insights into their marriage is Steinberg’s assertion that both Winnie and Nelson, post the latter’s release, wore masks. Nelson hid his wounds, his doubts about sacrificin­g his life and marriage to the woman he adored. An intensely human book about an inhumane time.

Sue Grant-Marshall

The Lion’s Historian: Africa’s Animal Past by Sandra Swart. A captivatin­g book by the environmen­tal historian, Prof Swart looks at centuries of history through the eyes of animals, an original lens that casts ancient stories in a new light. Twenty years of research informs the chapters, but her style is unlike that of a stuffy academic. The content veers from elephant to ants, to vicious police dogs and horses, and San communitie­s who lived peacefully with lions to humans who clash with the baboons who taught them plant lore over millennia. But the book is about more than the past; it’s about the future: about humans honouring animals as agents in history and the need to protect them and the natural world, in an era when the planet is tipping towards disaster. A historian is more like a baboon than a lion, says Swart. “We are the strangers on the rocks… the sentinels on the wall. We see and remember.”

Claire Keeton

My read of the year is Mme Ruth Mompati: A Life of Courage and Service, by Wally Serote. As someone who enjoys nonfiction and memoirs, this book left an indelible mark on me. Based on a series of interviews by the author with Mme Ruth in her later years, the book writes her life beautifull­y back into history, from her days as a young girl in the village of Ganyesa to her schooling at Tiger Kloof and her later years rising through the ranks of the ANC. The book shines a light on the role of women in the liberation struggle, including Albertina Sisulu, Sophie du

Bruyn, Getrude Shope, Angie Msimang, Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph, Ruth First, Amina Cachalia, Dorothy Nyembe, Florence Mkhize and others. It also highlights the roles she played within the ANC in exile and the sacrifices she endured for liberation. True to her second name, Segomotsi — meaning the one who comforts others — Mme Ruth truly lived a life of courage and service.

Sewela Langeni

The standout work of fiction for me has to be Sebastian Barry’s Old God’s Time. It deals with themes of grief, loss and the erosive power of secrets, but particular­ly about the fickleness and unreliabil­ity of memory. Barry is a master storytelle­r who never fails to deliver. My second choice is a local book, and a gem of a memoir — Hot Tea & Apricots by Kim Ballantine. Ballantine was struck down on her 40th birthday by a rare medical condition, about which little was known and for which there was no cure. She lost her voice, literally. From then on, this industrial psychologi­st and mother of three was unable to speak or even make a sound. The book is a demonstrat­ion of courage under fire as Ballantine grapples with this turn her life has taken. Written with honesty and peppered with dark humour, it is an account of how a mother ’ s determinat­ion to parent through trauma, while coming to terms with a disability, took her to the brink. Truly inspiring.

Alison Lowry

Jessica George’s Maame, meaning “woman ” in Twi, weaves a poignant tale with Maddie at its heart. Juggling her father ’ s Parkinson’s and a distant mother, Maddie yearns for change as the sole Black face in work meetings. Embracing “firsts ”, she finds a flat, tackles after-work socials, and delves into online dating. George addresses contempora­ry issues with humour and sincerity, from familial duty to love ’ s complexiti­es. The narrative beautifull­y captures the struggle between two homes and cultures, celebratin­g the journey of belonging. Smart, funny and deeply moving, Maame feels like a big warm hug while tenderly exploring grief, family, and friendship.

Shaun Lunga

Finding Endurance by Darrel BristowBov­ey. DBB takes the wreck of Shackleton’s ship, the Endurance, frozen at the bottom of the ocean, and conjures out of it a story of boundless grit and flawed heroism, wrapped in a helix of the loss of his father.

It ’ s full of hope and awing descriptio­ns of the Antarctic, and bursts with miracles past and present.

Michele Magwood

One of my 2023 literary highlights was The Reed Dance Stalker by Angela Makholwa, a sequel to her 2007 debut novel Red Ink. In this novel we see Makholwa seamlessly interweavi­ng a transnatio­nal narrative that extends to our Swati neighbours, creating multicultu­ral and multifacet­ed connection­s. The fact that Red Inkwas inspired by real-life events, from when Makholwa was working as a journalist makes this thrilling crime thriller real and palpable. Makholwa’s writing has such a chilling effect that you forget your surroundin­gs and become fully immersed in the world of her characters.

Siphiwo Mahala

Trust by Hernan Diaz is a remarkable act of invention, is very clever, has a wonderful

clarity and is a pacey and engrossing read. Firstly, the structure: a story about a very rich man and his wife, told in four parts. Each presents a radically different version and is related in different forms: memoir, novel, diary and biography. It takes on big themes — the inexorable march of capital and inherited wealth; as well as intimate personal relationsh­ips and the way allegedly self-made men soar on the stolen labour of women and the working class. It’s about the elusive nature of truth — and how every story is just a version, shaped through the lens of those who get to tell it. A note: you have to read till the end, when all becomes clear. Liz McGregor

I am going to take the coward’s way out because it is just too difficult to choose one

best book of the year. Jarred Thompson’s The Institute for Creative Dying is a wonderfull­y compelling and challengin­g (in the best way) read that makes us think deeply about how we connect to ourselves, each other, our communitie­s, our environmen­t and the world at large. Violette Kee-Tui’s Magic and Masala, her follow-up to her debut novel, Mulberry Dreams, continues the important work of telling stories of

Coloureds, Indians and Muslims: communitie­s that are woefully still marginalis­ed in Zimbabwe. Craig Higginson’s The Ghost of Sam Webster is a hauntingly beautiful whodunit that becomes so much more than the sum of its parts as it untangles the web of history. Written in immaculate prose, this is an enriching read.

Bryony Rheam’s Whatever Happened to Rick Astley? deserves a place on this list just for the title alone. A collection of short stories that evocativel­y depicts all that is beautiful and lost when a country begins its not so slow or gentle decline. Siphiwe Gloria Ndlovu

Morgan is My Name by Sophie Keetch is perhaps not the most impactful book I’ve read this year, but one I enjoyed reading owing to Keetch ’ s moody writing. She paints a scene beautifull­y by transporti­ng you to the misty cliffs and raging waters that gave birth to Arthurian legend and creates a character you cannot help but like — through her slow developmen­t, her bright mind, fierce loyalty and tempestuou­s spirit. And simmering throughout there ’ s an ever-present love story that you cannot help but root for. Because this is the first book in a trilogy best described as a feminist retelling of the story of Morgan le Fay, the half-sister of King Arthur, the pleasure doesn’t end when the final page is turned. Keetch sets the scene for the developmen­t of one of the most powerful sorceresse­s in Arthurian legend and one that I, at this stage, am rooting for entirely. Sanet Oberholzer

Sheena Patel‘s I’m A Fan, with unfiltered social and emotional commentary, coerces you into an absorbing narrative, voiced by a nameless character who deliberate­s as a prophet of our zeitgeist. Enthralled by the voice as they stalk and scroll through the social media of “the woman I am obsessed with ”, while engaging more hypothetic­ally than physically in an unfulfilli­ng affair with “the man I want to be with ”, the ingeniousn­ess of

Patel ’ s interrogat­ion is not just of the culture we blindly follow, but of the pendulum of sanity swinging between desire and the energy-sapping influence of the digital age. Written in a spoken word-esque manner, as the voice becomes more and more unhinged, there are lines of sadder melancholy — capturing the highs and lows of coming off of a doomscroll. In between the voice’s obsession with the woman, and her unwavering love for the man, the breeding of toxicity acts like a lifeline which beats rather close to home. Patel is a literary force of the future. Shakti Pillay

I’d say my book of the year is

Rassie: Stories of Life and Rugby by Rassie Erasmus. I read it straight after we won the Rugby World Cup, which made it especially meaningful, reading about the build-up to the different World Cups, together with Erasmus ’ s tough personal journey, and getting a behindthe-scenes glimpse of the matches I’ve attended over the years (personally, I will never get over us losing to England at Twickenham in 1998). I highly recommend Rassie (both the book and the coach!). Try to get your hands on a signed copy. Pamela Powers

The Bitterness of Olives by Andrew Brown. Despite having been written way before the current crisis in the Middle East, timeous doesn ’ t begin to describe Brown ’ s work. Treated with humanity and centred around the complex relationsh­ip between one-time colleagues — retired Israeli detective Avi and younger Palestinia­n doctor Khalid — it ’ s set in the eternally troubled region of Israel and Gaza. So much divides these two men, but bringing them back together is the mystery of the body of a woman whose very existence embodied the conflict. In the first few chapters I felt I had learnt more about the ancient Arab-Israeli animosity and history than in any amount of relentless television coverage. Nancy Richards

The Plot to Save South Africa by Justice Malala. Published on the 30th anniversar­y of perhaps the most seismic event in South African history, Malala ’ s masterful reconstruc­tion of the assassinat­ion of Chris Hani and its aftermath is a page-turning tour de force. South Africa owes so much to its journalist­s — as guardians of our hard-won freedom and again as the first drafters of history. It is a particular delight when the best among them re-open their old notebooks and scour their scrapbooks long after the fact to revisit times that have either been forgotten or cynically revised. This book belongs on bookshelve­s alongside Rian Malan’s My

Traitor ’ s Heart and Antjie Krog’s Country of my Skull. Meticulous­ly researched, beautifull­y written, it is generous in its quest to find and identify the heroes that pulled our country back from the edge of the abyss. Kevin Ritchie

Winnie & Nelson: Portrait of a Marriage by Jonny Steinberg. Extremely tough choice to make, but in the end I choose Steinberg’s magnum opus for its scope, its breathtaki­ngly detailed research, its extraordin­ary storytelli­ng, its honesty, its remarkable insights, its relevance and always, the beauty of his writing. Kate Rogan

I’ve loved many books this year, but none has seared itself on my consciousn­ess with such persuasive power as Jeff Goodell’s Heat. It drives home a new understand­ing of heat as an invisible, lethal force. A silent killer of all living things. And should you underestim­ate its power on a planet already more than halfway to 2°C of warming from preindustr­ial temperatur­es, Goodell’s narrative — an eloquent blend of on-the-ground reporting and scientific insight — illuminate­s its lethal effects on every conceivabl­e thing: outdoor workers, food production, migration, microbial diseases, the air-conditioni­ng divide and much more. Arguably the most honest, most terrifying, yet most optimistic guide to our future on this planet. Bron Sibree

My standout book of the year is Demon

Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, but that ’ s a woefully unoriginal choice, and no doubt someone’s got there before me, so I’ll recommend The Bee Sting by Paul Murray.

I loved this big, tragicomic Irish family story, told from three points of view. Cass’s story is a fresh and layered take on classic teenage fare — toxic friendship­s, bad kissing, disappoint­ing parents — against the background of the 2008 financial crash.

Next up, her mother Imelda, a great beauty from a chaotic upbringing, where “life just came at you like a gang of lads getting out of a van ” (yes, this guy can write some absolute zingers). Finally, her father, Dickie, who fills the gaps and brings fresh surprises. Murray is great on family and on social class, but he doesn ’ t stop there. Fresh, tender and acutely observed, it’s a real pleasure to read. Kate Sidley

Darrel Bristow-Bovey’s Finding Endurance was my stand-out read of the year. The author succeeds widely in the risky high-wire act he performed — that of inserting his own life story into his own novel version of the muchtold story of Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 attempt to reach the South Pole. It is a profoundly moving account of Bristow-Bovey’s family history gently wrapped around this astounding and beautifull­y wrought account of the failed exploratio­n. It shouldn’t work, but it soars. My second choice is The Maniac by Benjamín Labatut. This is the true story of the famed 20th-century mathematic­ian, physicist and computer scientist Johan van Neumann, told through the device of fictional remembranc­es of his closest family and friends. More than a cross-bred fictional memoir, it plumbs many profound waters — how to bridge the gap between the rational and irrational, perfection and humanness and sanity and madness. Steven Sidley

The Housekeepe­rs by Alex Hay. Set in London ’ s High Society in 1905, a group of ladies, from under the stairs — maids to you and me — take back what is long overdue to them in the most daring manual heist led by the dynamic duo, Mrs King and Mrs Bone, who are more connected than meets the eye. What a fantastic 390-pager. If Audrey Hepburn were born a century later, I see her cast as Mrs King in the movie adaptation. This is the most rewarding book I have ever given 10 days of enjoyable reading to. My takeaway is that everything is possible if you have a little drive. A do-over. A cashmere scarf. Justice. Retributio­n. A sister’s love. Lorraine Sithole

My Russia: War or Peace? by Mikhail Shishkin. This is the most important book I read this year. Russian-Swiss writer Shishkin outlines how Vladimir Putin’s dictatorsh­ip has emerged from Russia’s long history of autocracy. How, as he calls his first chapter, the Russian people have long been held hostage by the “Paradox of the Lie”. How they have always needed to believe, or pretend to believe, the lies of their leaders to survive their leaders’ brutality. Russia, he says, has always been a tortured empire of the mind where words “describe all kinds of things, except what they actually meant”. Written by a Russian who loves his country, and not by an outside critic, this book is a powerful antidote to apologists for Putin in our own country and in the wider world. Hamilton Wende

Darrel Bristow-Bovey’s Finding Endurance. A history, a family saga, a memoir, this proved to be my perfect if brief sanctuary from the tumult that was 2023. Insulated from the headlines by BristowBov­ey ’ s lyrical and masterfull­y interwoven narrative, I found myself lodged within the nightmare of being marooned on the Antarctic ice, at the author’s elbow as he uncovered awkward family truths and bedazzled by multiple moments of crystalcle­ar human insight. Finding Endurance is an explorer ’ s exploratio­n, and I was helplessly swept along on Bristow-Bovey’s voyage as he discovers — and rediscover­s — Shackleton, family, fortitude and an almost mythical icy wasteland, so warmly. That a memoir, with a historical focus with only the most tenuous of links to the author, could blend time, place and self so poignantly and elegantly, is astonishin­g. Without a doubt, my read of the year. Mark Winkler

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