We Walk Straight So You Better Get Out the Way
by Denis Hirson
(Jacana)
In his second volume of memories, Denis Hirson, author of I Remember King Kong (The Boxer), departs frequently from the clipped format of the original: each new thought beginning with the evocative introductory ‘I remember …”. Here some paragraphs evolve into smoother prose and, occasionally, distance (or merciful amnesia) takes its toll and ‘I remember” becomes ‘I don’t remember”.
The recollections of growing up are as quirky as ever (the title gives a clue); the observations are as sharp and witty, the metaphors as apt, but this is a more sombre work, exploring autobiography in a way the original did not. Extended paragraphs are woven from some of the central threads of the author’s life, and return frequently to his father’s years as a political prisoner and the impact of his absence from the life of an adolescent boy. ‘I remember the problem of finding a man who would teach me how to shave” and ‘I remember afterwards, when visits were over, thinking I had a lot to say to my father, and nothing had been said.”
In his narrative, Hirson, like the girls playing the game he has used for his title, does not ‘walk straight”.He ‘wheels around”, reverting again and again to topics close to his heart — journeys, exile, the meaning of home, the nature of freedom.
Hirson’s memories, as memories are wont to do, occasionally repeat themselves: some are familiar from the first volume, though they are rendered here with slight changes. What hasn’t changed are two errors he might consider correcting: the pigtailed school ‘girls” in the Rag parade came from St Trinian’s, not St Stithian’s and the Bantu Men’s Social Centre was next door to, not in, Dorkay House.
These are mere quibbles, though. This captivating book is funny and moving and tender and ultimately tells us more about our country and ourselves than many a more obviously serious work.