Penguin Books is giving away one of four Christmas Book Hampers: for men, women, teenagers and children. The four categories contain the publisher’s pick of exciting titles, just in time for the festive season!
The books hamper for him contains More Fool Me by Stephen Fry, as well as books by Jeremy Clarkson and Clive Cussler. Books for her include The Keeper by Marguerite Poland and more books by Marian Keyes, Jojo Moyes and Sylvia Day.
Treat your teens with a selection of books for young adults, including Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades, The Revenge of Seven and Fifth Wave: The Infinite Sea. Last but not least, the book hamper for kids contains Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul, Angelina’s Christmas, The Very Hungry Caterpillar’s Christmas 123 and The Roald Dahl Treasury.
To enter, visit the Penguin Books website and click on the Christmas stocking of your choice. You may enter a maximum of 10 times per category. The competition closes on Tuesday, 23 December, at 11:59 PM.
Jerm, less commonly known as Jeremy Nell, is a cartoonist who provides cutting and entertaining commentary on South Africa’s political buffoonery.
Jerm has been published in a number of newspapers, both locally and abroad.
The cartoons below are an excerpt from Jerm’s latest book, Comedy Club. They are about none other than our esteemed president, Jacob Zuma:
Penguin nooi jou graag na die bekendstelling van Goeiemore, Mnr. Mandela deur Zelda la Grange.
Die geleentheid vind plaas op Dinsdag, 23 Desember 2014 by die Walvissaal in Hartenbos en begin om 15:00. Toegang is gratis en boeke word te koop aangebied.
La Grange sal in gesprek wees met Melt Myburgh oor hierdie boek wat ook in Engels beskikbaar is as Good Morning, Mr Mandela.
Moet dit nie misloop nie!
- Datum: Dinsdag, 23 Desember 2014
- Tyd: 15:00
- Plek: Walvissaal Hartenbos
Hartenbos | Padkaart
- Gespreksgenoot: Melt Myburgh
Zelda la Grange says although she became extremely close to Nelson Mandela over the years, she believes his intentions in hiring her and involving her in his team were political.
“At first there was some strategy behind it,” La Grange says. “When he asked me to accompany him on a state visit to Japan, I was the Afrikaner in that delgation and he wanted to show the world that going forward South Africa was going to be inclusive of its people.
“After the publication of my book people now say ‘oh, so you were just a white token’ and I say to them, ‘wouldn’t you have wanted to be the white token?’ It’s a privilege.”
La Grange said she understood that the book would be met with some criticism, but it was important for her to share her experience.
Good Morning, Mr Mandela is also available in Afrikaans as Goeiemore, Mnr. Mandela.
Watch the video:
Philip Haslam and Russell Lamberti spoke to Shannon de Ryhove for Polity about their book When Money Destroys Nations.
Haslam says that hyperinflation is defined by economists when prices escalate by 50 percent or more every month. He says that although the definition is fairly arbitrary and theoretical, the hyperinflation is a very real problem and is felt acutely by people who are going through it.
In the book, Haslam and Lamberti look at how money printing causes hyperinflation and the effects this has on real people. They analyse the money-printing in Zimbabwe and how countries can avoid falling into the same easy trap of poor economic management.
Watch the video:
Women24 has shared an extract from Don’t Film Yourself Having Sex: and Other Legal Advice For the Age of Social Media by Emma Sadleir and Tamsyn de Beer.
Sadleir and De Beer launched their book this year and it contains real-life examples of situations when people were sued or defamed because of something they put on the internet with legal explanations of the various scenarios.
In the following excerpt the authors sketch possible scenarios of things that could go wrong when you make a sex tape. You could lose your device on which the film was stored, the video could go into the cloud or your ex might decide to try out revenge porn.
Read the excerpt:
When private content goes public
Now we should point out that there is nothing illegal about filming yourself having sex, or sending naked pictures of yourself to someone, provided that it is consensual and everyone is of age.
In fact, some people encourage it (although you may have gathered from the title of this book that we are not those ‘some people’).
The problem arises, however, when that sexy video that you made to keep the spark alive suddenly falls into the wrong hands and your intended audience of one turns into an audience of billions.
And because digital images and videos can be so easily shared, the chance of this happening is all the more likely.
1. The device on which it was recorded or stored could go AWOL
These things happen. Phones get lost, cameras are stolen, laptops get hacked into, and that private video is suddenly not so private any more.
This was the case in 2008, when the mobile phone of a British university student, containing personal and explicit images with her face clearly visible, was either lost or stolen.
Zelda la Grange het met die eerste herdenking van Nelson Mandela se dood met Freek Robinson gesels op sy kykNET-aktualiteitsprogram, Robinson Regstreeks. Sy gesels oor Madiba se uitsonderlike kwaliteite, haar reise saam met hom en sy nalatenskap. Sy gesels ook oor die huidige stand van sake in die land, van die onlangse rassevoorvalle en wat in die parlement gebeur tot Nkandla en die Mandela-familie se struwelinge oor die familiegrond in Qunu.
“Hy het altyd probeer om vrede te bewerkstellig, selfs in die moeilikste situasies,” sê La Grange en noem dat hy álles in sy vermoë gedoen het om uit te reik na ander, ongeag hoe moeilik dit sou wees. Robinson vra haar om te deel wat Madiba sou dink van die huidige situasie in die parlement, maar sy hou vol dat sy “nie woorde in sy mond wil sit nie”. Sy deel egter haar eie mening en sê dat die disrespek wat nou seëvier onaanvaarbaar is. “Hoekom kan ons nie net onthou waar ons vandaan kom nie?” vra Madiba se voormalige persoonlike assistent.
Robinson pols haar ook oor Die Instituut vir Versoening en Sosiale Geregtigheid se verslag dat rassisme al meer prominent raak. Hiermee druk hy op ‘n teerpunt vir La Grange:
“Ek is diep, diep bekommerd oor die rassisme wat weer so oplewing het in Suid-Afrika. Dis nie meer net wit-op-swart, or swart-op-wit nie, maar ook wit-op-wit en swart-op-swart. Dit gaan terug na daai ding toe van respek. Hoekom kan ons nie net met mekaar redeneer nie? Ek sê nie almal moet saamstem nie, ons is almal, soos ek sê, oor iéts kwaad, en ons verskil van mekaar. Maar hoekom moet dit op rassisme uitloop? Hoekom kan ons nie net as mense van mekaar verskil nie? Dit maak dit vir my sleg. Ek is regtig diep bekommerd oor Suid-Afrika en mense se gedrag oor die algemeen.”
Sy gaan voort en sê: “Madiba het geweet, hierdie bottel van onverdraagsaamheid, rassisme, haat … As jy daai doppie afhaal gaan jy hom nooit weer terug kry nie. Ek sien dit is ‘n borrelende pot op hierdie stadium.”
Ten slotte sê La Grange: “Om Suid-Afrika te verander is nie in Jacob Zuma of enige iemand anders se hande nie, en Madiba het dit vir ons gesê.” Sy doen ‘n oproep op Suid-Afrikaners om sy duursame lewenslesse te onthou.
Goeiemore, Mnr. Mandela, La Grange se memoir oor haar tyd aan Madiba se sy, is ook beskikbaar in Engels as Good Morning, Mr Mandela. Kyk na die video:
Here I Am by PJ Powers and Marianne Thamm is the story of Powers’ rich and varied life as a musician. She rose to stardom during a turbulent time in South Africa’s political history, and remains one of the nation’s best-loved performers.
But Powers’ life, although full and interesting, has not been all glittered hairspray and platinum records. She faced a number of personal challenges. The biggest of these was a serious battle with alcoholism that nearly claimed her life.
The book begins with Powers in the darkest depths of the singer’s alcohol-induced oblivion.
Read an excerpt from the first chapter:
* * * * *
I’ve lost time. Days, hours, minutes, each collapsing, tumbling into the next, ill defined, unaccounted for. And now it has come to this. I have been holed up, alone, in this townhouse in Fourways for months, wearing the same clothes for days on end. I forget to bath. I hardly eat and when I do, all I can keep down is jelly. The windows are shut. The door is locked. No one can get in.
More than anything I want it to be dark, I want the night. Then, I can get into bed and just sleep. Disappear, not be here. Not be.
When the sun shines, I feel guilty. I know I should get up but I can’t. My only purpose, if I do manage to crawl out of bed, is to find alcohol. I need everything I possess inside to pull myself together long enough to appear in public and drive to the bottle store, walk down the aisle, place four or five bottles of vodka into the carrier basket and pay for them at the checkout. Sometimes I don’t have enough money.
I tell the cashier I have left my card in my other purse at home. She knows who I am. She trusts me when I say I will be back later to pay.
I have lied to a lot of people in the past four years. People I love, people who love me. I have lied to myself.
On the days that I can’t dress myself or go out, I summon the security guards at the complex. I peer around the door, hand them crumpled banknotes and ask them please to go and buy my vodka. They oblige. They too know me, they know who I am.
I don’t care what they think any more.
Back in my tomb I reach for a bottle, my hands burrowing through the covers or patting the floor around my bed for the fullest one. I grab hold of its comforting, familiar neck. I no longer bother using a glass. Haven’t drunk out of one for years.
I wrap my lips around the familiar, cold ridges of its mouth and drain the transparent liquid. It is the only intimacy I know now.
My mouth-to-mouth oblivion.
And I wait for the now familiar and all-embracing warmth that will soon radiate from the centre of my being and course through every part of my body. Like love being poured into me. Filling me up.
After the third swig it doesn’t feel so bad any more … The trembling has calmed.
I pick up the remote, turn on the TV and watch the colours move and swim across the screen. I pass out. Oblivion. Sweet, dreamless oblivion.
When I run out of money, I sober up just long enough to do a gig. Out there in the world I am loud but all I want to do is die.
For the last three years I have been more passed out than awake. The only person who sees me and tries to help is my older sister Priscilla. We’ve come a long way. She’s always been at my side and I at hers. She lives in the townhouse next door to mine. Her suggestion. She pops in to make sure I am alive. She despairs when she sees me unable to walk down from my bedroom upstairs. I am so fragile, broken and anesthetised that sometimes I have to slide down the stairs on my backside. Desperate, she goes to AA to ask what she can do to help me. I don’t care.
Then it happened.
Uncontrollable shaking wakes me from a stupor. It is dark outside so I assume it is still night or at least early morning. Only one thing will stop this. I need alcohol.
I pat around the bed and pick up a few empty bottles. I lift them one by one to my lips, trying to drain them of every last drop. Nothing. I am in pain. I need a drink. I need alcohol. I am sweating. I start to retch. I know this feeling. Alcohol withdrawal. The nausea is overwhelming. I make it to the bathroom and begin to heave over the toilet bowl.
I look up and see there, up on a shelf, an old bottle of Flex hair spray.
I reach for it. I have learned from the other alcoholics and addicts I have met in rehab where to find traces of alcohol when the real stuff is all gone. Angostura Bitters. Mouthwash. I twist off the spray pump. The bottle is about three quarters full.
I suck out every last bitter drop. Stick out my tongue and shake it just to make sure. It burns my throat, my stomach, but I know I must just hold on. Hold on. The shakes will subside. The taste in my mouth is unbearable. Shit. Now I have to try to make it downstairs to eat some jelly. I need to get rid of this chemical tang. Will I make it down the stairs to the kitchen?
I do. I shovel the jelly into my mouth then shuffle back to the bedroom. I collapse on my bed. Tip over into safe unconsciousness.
8 a.m. Severe pain wakes me. I have felt nothing like it before. I do not recognise this feeling. I can hardly walk. I know that something bad is happening. I need to get to Priscilla. I need help.
I make it out of the townhouse, across the lawn and through the gap in the wooden fence that separates our homes. I feel I am dying. I am tired. I have had enough. I want it to stop. I am so frightened.
I surrender. I surrender.
Priscilla opens the door. She looks at me. She knows immediately something is very wrong. “Do you want me to take you to hospital?”
“Yes” is all I can manage.
The film adaptation of Spud – Learning to Fly by John van de Ruit is currently on circuit.
Expresso spoke to the Van de Ruit, director John Barker and producer Ross Garland about the newest film in the series. Van de Ruit wrote the screenplay for the movie, and has says giving his stratospherically successful book a new kind of life has been thrilling. The cast also spoke about what it was like working on the film, and even played a prank on their interviewer.
Watch the video:
Troye Sivan and Casper Lee played a prank on their interviewer, Thenjiwe Stemela. Watch the video:
Watch the official trailer for Spud 3: Learning to Fly:
John Carlin was interviewed by Sue Grant-Marshall for Business Day about his newest book Chase Your Shadow: The Trials of Oscar Pistorius.
Carlin wrote two books on Nelson Mandela, Knowing Mandela and Playing the Enemy (on which the film Invictus was based), before his book on Oscar Pistorius. He draws unexpected parallels between his two biographical subjects.
Carlin says that both Mandela and Pistorius are courteous and kind, and act as mirrors of South African society in unusual times. He says Pistorius can be shown to be good or bad because he is an incredibly complex individual. In this respect, according to Carlin, he is a excellent mirror of South Africa’s multiple personalities.
Read the interview:
Oscar Pistorius is kind, extremely generous, “and almost Mandela-like with his old-world manners. I’ve seldom come across a more courteous person in my life. Yet he is subject to the most disproportionate rages,” says author John Carlin, famous for writing Playing the Enemy, which was turned into the film Invictus, and Knowing Mandela, an account of his years of friendship with former president Nelson Mandela, who died a year ago this week.