When you have one writer in the family, I would imagine you feel blessed. Two? Perhaps not so much but someone who makes a meal of this is ANTJIE KROG who in her latest memoir writes about the relationship between her and her mother, the author Dot Serfontein. DIANE DE BEER started out reading the English version, followed that with the one in Krog’s home language and then listened to her talk about the book:

It’s a personal thing, I know, but if I can read a writer in her home language, I do. And again I was proved right with Antjie Krog’s latest offerings, Blood’s Inner Rhyme or the Afrikaans version Binnerym van die Bloed, which she describes as an autobiographical novel.

Because I write in English, I thought it might be easier to read that version, but after hearing her speak, I knew I had to get my hands on the Afrikaans book. It’s the way she Krog uses the Afrikaans language which enriches the reading.

If I didn’t have the option, I would have given the English a similar review, it’s simply that the Afrikaans introduces a different heartbeat.

Even in the best pairings, mothers and daughters have complicated relationships. When you are competing with one another even if that’s not the intention, which I’m sure it wasn’t, it’s going to be tough. Add to that two headstrong women who arguably stand on opposite sides of the political spectrum, expect fireworks – and that’s what you get.

Women all have mothers, that’s obvious, and some have their own daughters. All of us know the intricacies of that relationship – and that is when it isn’t public. Writing for an English newspaper, I wasn’t part of the Afrikaans writers’ circles and even I, not your natural gossip girl, heard rumours. And that’s where I admire Krog for doing this extraordinary book.

Antjie Krog, author extraordinaire.

Both of these women are celebrated writers who lived their lives in the spotlight. To then delve even more publicly into that life must have been an excruciating decision. And then to travel the country as one does to promote the book – what extraordinary courage. It reminds me that artists sometimes don’t have a choice, it has to come out. And usually it is the reader who benefits.

Thanks goodness Krog decided to write about this often fraught, sometimes fragile but also intense relationship. I can only guess that while sometimes devastating it must also have been therapeutic and the way to mourn and celebrate what she once had. Death has a way of shining a new light on something that was just too overwhelming to observe as it was happening.

For those of us ageing ourselves who have also shared a close relationship with a mother in her last years, it is especially meaningful. My eldest sister booked my parents into a retirement home which was on the way home from my work and I could pop in as often as possible without any inconvenience. I coped with the sometimes-daily trauma of witnessing this ageing process by communicating with a third sister who could only get the news via whatsapp or email. It was a lifesaver.

I could appreciate the daily diary of Krog’s mother’s most basic needs. That is in fact what happens when people age as we are forced to focus on the brutal minutiae of their lives. For example:

Night report:

20.00 Medication. Pt (patient) didn’t want to drink half a sleeping pill. Wanted a whole one

22.45 PT said her toes hurt. Applied Turlington + gave another half sleeping pill

00.30 Pt wanted another half sleeping pill. She was uncomfortable. She wanted to get up, I had to hold her by the sides. Pt wanted to make food. Pt was angry that the freezer had no meat.

These diaries were kept day and night – every day and night. It constantly reminds one of the process that is unfolding. As Krog tells it, focussing on her mother’s “excrement which happens daily is to own that which is being rejected, that which is such a part of her waning existence, her body’s extremities.” Krog who tells things exactly how they are explains: “There’s actually a very profound thing about shit,” she says as she captures the importance of change as life starts running out.

In full flow.

Yet there’s so much more happening around the family. It is an especially fraught time for farmers and for Dot Serfontein the family farm represents who she is. It was her inheritance. For Krog, even though she has similar bonds to the farm, she also knows and is burdened by the privilege it represents – something in this country that was often at the cost of someone else.

It is fascinating to read and witness the lives of different generations, especially in that time when everyone in the country knew things were going to change dramatically. She acknowledges that the relationship between mother and daughter is complex. In this family and between this mother and daughter perhaps even more than most.

While Krog is at pains to write about this sometimes combative relationship, it is also a celebration of Dot Serfontein, who she was and what she achieved with her writing. This is where and how Krog first discovered her words and both she and her readers have benefited.

There are so many stories captured in what can be described as a memoir. Having lived through the ageing process of my parents, that is what drew me to the writing. One learns so much about your own mortality, growing old gracefully and celebrating life whatever your age.

And thus her mother concludes only a couple of chapters into the book: “I keep all your letters,”  she writes to her daughter. “One day you can compile us in a plundered book like Audrey Blignault’s daughter. Initially I wondered whether the sudden revival of my oevre was thanks to you, but when I saw so many Dot Serfonteinisims in your work and some of our private family phantom(b)s, I thought we constitute each other.”

Having lived in each other’s shadow most of their lives, it couldn’t be any other way. That is what this astonishing writer captures so magnificently. Yes it is about a mother and daughter, but there is so much more. It’s insightful, entertaining, both sad and extremely funny, and even historical in many instances. But what captured my heart was Krog’s writing. She has a way with words that is unequaled.