There can be no doubt that Olivia Coetzee’s Innie Shadows is an impressive debut novel. Deon Meyer’s assessment on the cover, that it is “groundbreaking and unique,” is not misplaced. The structure offers a fresh twist on whodunnits in that the lead detective operates mostly in the background and the story unfolds by recounting the daily lives of central characters, many of whom do not hide their trans or queer identities. I mention this upfront only because I think that in itself gives the book a unique and important place in the current political environment.
The story is set in Shadow Heights, a marginal space on the outskirts of Cape Town, and violence, sexual abuse, addiction, and corruption abound. The story is told in multiple voices and from different characters’ perspective, so that what emerges is not a single causal narrative but a collage that allows us to experience the struggles each of the individuals face in their daily lives. This is not unfamiliar territory for noir fiction, but Innie Shadows rises above the mire that threatens to engulf the community and what shines through is not pessimism but a deep sense of humanity and optimism that emerges from how members of the community support each other. As Coetzee unravels the mystery, readers have to confront poverty, discrimination, homophobia, and addiction. Where Coetzee excels is in the way she manages to tell these stories and address the realities of the environment openly without ever creating a sense that any aspect of their lives is a crime.
The structure offers a fresh twist on whodunnits in that the lead detective operates mostly in the background and the story unfolds by recounting the daily lives of central characters, many of whom do not hide their trans or queer identities.
Much is made of the fact that this is the first novel to be translated from Kaaps, a largely spoken form of Afrikaans, which is one of the thirteen official languages of South Africa. Although I say it is a largely spoken form, there is a significant body of contemporary work in Kaaps, as well as a notable corpus of historical materials dating back to around 1800 (some of which relate to Qur’anic studies and are written in a modified Arabic script). Kaaps is a rich and expressive language, with turns of phrase that can be extremely difficult to translate into a more standard English that will be understood widely. Overall, I think Coetzee managed admirably, although sometimes I yearned to see more of the texture of the original shine through. But this is a minor quibble that is greatly outweighed by the joy of seeing it translated and the broader significance of seeing a book that deals so openly and sympathetically with transphobia, especially at this particular moment in history.
Kaaps is a rich and expressive language, with turns of phrase that can be extremely difficult to translate into a more standard English that will be understood widely. Overall, I think Coetzee managed admirably, although sometimes I yearned to see more of the texture of the original shine through.
Olivia M. Coetzee was born in Mariental, a small town in southern Namibia. She found her voice and words in the township of Electric City, which is in Eerste Rivier, Cape Town. She is a passionate advocate for Kaaps being a written language as well as a spoken one. She has an MA in creative writing from the University of Cape Town.
Publisher: House of Anansi Press (October 15, 2024)
Paperback 8″ x 5″ | 176 pages
ISBN: 9781487012526
Peter Midgley is a bilingual writer and editor from Edmonton. Over the course of thirty years, he has worked as a freelance editor, festival director, university lecturer, managing editor, acquisitions editor, clerk of court, bartender, actor, janitor, and door-to-door salesman. This experience has given him enough material for more than a dozen books. His latest book, let us not think of them as barbarians (NeWest Press), was shortlisted for the Stephan G. Stephansson Award in 2019.