- Author: Onke Mazibuko
- Publisher: Penguin Random House
- ISBN: 9781485904724
- Reviewed by: Alison Williams
The Second Verse by Onke Mazibuko, is a coming-of-age novel that would appeal to, but should not be limited to, young adults. Anyone interested in the hidden (and not so hidden) layers of conflicting emotions and experiences of a teenager would appreciate this novel. As suggested by the title, the book provides a possibility of redemption and hope, of second chances.
The opening, set in East London in the late 1990s, takes the reader into the angst-ridden life of teenager, Bokang Damane. Contrary to expectations, considering the time and place in which it is set, the novel focuses on the personal, rather than the political.
The politics of the time is subtly alluded to, but the interior world of the sensitive and intelligent Bokang is the novel’s central focus. The protagonist, Bokang, or Bobo, attends St Stephen’s College, where ‘bullying is a way of life’. Although he has two loyal friends, he drifts towards the stoner crowd, and a troubled girlfriend.
Early in the novel, Bokang is called out by the school for writing an essay about suicide. He tries to brush off the school’s attempt to provide counselling. Meanwhile, his ‘Suicide Manifesto’ remains hidden under his bed in his suburban home. The motif of suicidal death runs throughout the novel.
Bokang has multiple reasons to be depressed. His father Ernest is an alcoholic and gambler, unable to maintain his legal practice or his family. Ernest is seemingly unable to afford to pay for Bokang’s ‘going to the bush’ – the circumcision ritual that other young Xhosa boys are expected to undertake.
Financial problems such as school fees constantly weigh on his mind. Bokang is also very suspicious of his mother’s relationship with Pastor Mzoli. In addition, he feels the burden of trying to protect his younger siblings from Ernest’s erratic behaviour. He is annoyed that his name is mispronounced as ‘Bogang’ by some of his teachers, but this is of peripheral importance alongside the other conflicts in his life.
He hates having to explain why his name is not of Xhosa origin, and he struggles to find space for his creative interests. He speaks with wisdom when he says that ‘the biggest mistake that parents make with their children is withholding the truth from them’.
The raw characterisation of the tragic Ernest or Tata is seeped with hope and despair, and we share Bokang’s ambivalence about this failed man. Bokang’s daily struggles are as memorable and moving as a Holden Caulfield’s. At the forefront of the novel is his feeling of alienation as he dips from one crisis to another. Much of the plot has the depressing inevitability of a life in free fall, but there are also surprises and suspense throughout the novel.
Mazibuko’s attention to detail lifts much of the prose. It is written with wry humour, touches of satire or, at times, heart-breaking honesty. Bokang’s obligatory sessions with ‘the shrink’ are cleverly compared to a boxing match: some of the psychologist’s questions are ‘like he’s jabbing, and then out of nowhere he throws something serious like an uppercut’. Additionally, he ‘flexes his Adam’s apple like a knuckle’. Bokang thinks that the sessions turn him into a ‘snitch – snitching on your damn self ’.
Mazibuko skilfully has Bokang navigating different spaces and shifting his language to reflect his contrasting identities. Mazibuko provides the reader with a more hopeful than helpless protagonist; Bokang is both vulnerable and heroic. He has the authentic voice of a troubled, yet endearing teenager, and the author makes the reader care about how he will turn out.
The Second Verse is highly recommended, and it would be a worthwhile addition to both school and private libraries.