The Thin Line

Arja Salafranca

Description

Arja Salafranca is an accomplished writer, having twice won the Sanlam Literary Award in South Africa. The stories in her new book engage and reel in the reader on that 'thin line' from the start. The carefully drawn characters are haunting: Corinna trapped in her huge teenage body, Cleo in love with a married man after all these years, and poor skinny Mark, as he sees his love teeter away from him.'Ten Minutes to Hate' tells of an armed robbery in a packed theatre, and its effect, emotionally and psychologically, on two of the people involved. 'Collage' is the story of a possessive love so fierce, that only death can resolve it. Searingly honest, sometimes painfully so.

Sujets

• Littérature Africaine
• Littérature Africaine
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Modjaji Books
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781920397784
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Publication © Modjaji Books 2010 Text © Arja Salafranca Migdale 2010 First published in 2010 by Modjaji Books CC P O Box 385, Athlone, 7760, South Africa [e-mail] http://modjaji.book.co.za www.modjajibooks.co.za http://arjasalafranca.blogspot.com/ ISBN 9781920397081 Book and cover design by Jacqui Stecher Cover Illustration and Lettering by Jesse Breytenbach Photograph of author by TJ Lemon Printed and bound by Megadigital, Cape Town Set in Garamond and Kabel

 C O N T E N T S

The thin line Couple on the beach Collage Sour milk, cold ash Patterns At the table of the short story Ten minutes to hate Cul-de-sacs A car is a weapon The game Friends Cleo and Nic A man sits in a Johannesburg park Schmalz Solly Bernstein’s story Desire, with borders Finally, a meeting

9 18 33 44 51 61 77 87 102 106 119 133 149 161 175 194 204

The thin line

Two women sat at a table in a restaurant drinking herbal tea. Behind one of the women a man smoked, making the atmosphere cloudy. The other woman stirred lemon wedges and brown sugar into her cup – acid and sweetness mingling soothingly on her tongue. Egg smells lingered. They sat and talked about life and work, wanting to be free of the grind of everyday existence and how they wished they could stop working – be free to paint, dance, write, be creative. It wasn’t an option for them. A group of businessmen came to occupy a table near the window. The men were loud, laughing raucously. The women strained to talk above the noise, voices hurting. The tea was getting cold. The woman who was not involved asked the other how everything was going with her boyfriend. Fine, wonderful, the other replied. There

9