Cousins

March 31, 1997
Eminent South African playwright Fugard acknowledges at the start that this childhood memoir is only partial--it scants his parents and his relationship with black workers--yet it remains resonant nonetheless. Fugard, whose father is of English descent and whose mother is Afrikaner, has long captured his country's Afrikaner strain with a practiced ear. "I have often described myself as an Afrikaner writing in English, and the older I get the more that seems to be the truth: that my English tongue is speaking for an Afrikaner psyche." The Afrikaner-English dichotomy is echoed by the two main sections, named for a cousin from each side. His piano-playing Afrikaner cousin, Johnnie, collaborated with Athol on musical sketches that nurtured the author's future dramatic career. And in a single confidence, his troubled English cousin, Garth, disclosed his homosexuality and gave Fugard a sense of secrets, "my first empowerment as a writer." "I could work back through every play I have written," says Fugard, "and find in it a resonance, an echo of Garth's voice that night up there on the Donkin Street." Despite the title, this book is not confined to the cousins. Some memories lead Fugard to moments in his plays, acknowledgment of his former dependence on alcohol, or even how Faulkner gave him courage to embrace his identity as a regional writer. For Fugard fans, this slim volume makes an excellent complement to his plays. Photos.

Starred review from November 1, 1997
This memoir by South African playwright Fugard (e.g., Master Harold & the Boys) tells of his childhood relationships with two older cousins, Johnnie and Garth. Each influenced Fugard in different ways that both encouraged him to write and also became grist for his plays. Johnnie, a maternal cousin, fired the playwright's interest in music and performance. To entertain customers at his parents' tea room, young Fugard told stories set to the music of his cousin's inspired piano playing. Garth, on the other hand, was the ne'er-do-well cousin from the "wicked" side of the Fugard family. He was an adventurer and wanderer who appeared only when out of luck and money. A readable gem of a memoir that also reveals much of the culture of white South Africa in mid-century, this is highly recommended wherever literay memoirs are popular.--Katherine K. Koenig, Ellis Sch., Pittsburgh

October 1, 1997
In a simple, warmhearted memoir, South Africa's best-known contemporary playwright pays homage to two men who strongly influenced him when he was an impressionable young artist--his cousins Johnnie and Garth. The two were as different as could be. Johnnie, a pianist, was methodical, even-tempered, and utterly absorbed by his great love, music. Garth, in contrast, was a tortured soul--an alcoholic, closeted homosexual and an utter failure given to delivering long, soulful monologues. But together, they inspired Fugard to devote himself to the glory and mystery of words and music, a devotion that, as he explains, undergirds his every play. In passing, Fugard also tells a little about his family and boyhood in Port Elizabeth and environs, and he reveals, in tantalizing, brief snatches, which moments in his plays are taken from his life. Anyone familiar with this prolific, powerful playwright ("Boesman and Lena," ""Master Harold" . . . and the Boys," etc.) will enjoy this all too brief glimpse into his soul. ((Reviewed October 1, 1997))(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 1997, American Library Association.)