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Excerpt Published with permission from Reach Publishers in association with Marilyn Cohen de Villiers.
About the book:
South Africa has been dubbed the rape and child abuse capital of the world. Every year, the Sixteen Days of Violence against Women and Children campaign highlights this scourge, as do innumerable discussions and articles in the media. Several current high profile cases – think Oscar Pistorius and Shrien Dewani – have raised awareness about a phenomenon dubbed IPV (Intimate Partner Violence).
However, most people regard these tragedies as aberrations. The “other kind” of IPV – the kind that involves long-term abuse - is generally regarded as being confined to South Africa’s deprived communities.
We all “know” that incest, wife battering, rape and general abuse are a consequence of poverty, overcrowding, lack of education and poor social infrastructure.
Things “like that” just don’t happen in the leafy suburbs – and certainly not within the close-knit, Jewish community. Do they?
In her hard hitting, fast paced, easy-to-read family saga, Marilyn Cohen de Villiers takes us behind the facade of the beautiful, wealthy, admired Silvermans and into the psyche of the abused as well as the abuser.
The novel also examines the reaction of the community to the realisation that “one of us” could do “things like that”.
Set against the backdrop of South Africa’s march to democracy and beyond, the novel spans 40 years and three countries.
The story is recounted through the flawed perspectives of seven characters: Brenda and Alan Silverman and their children Yair and Aviva; as well as anti-Apartheid activist Annette Davies; British millionaire Ben Shapiro; and Johannesburg newspaper reporter Tracy Jacobs.
Extract below:
Tracy wanted to cry. Why wouldn’t her mother defend her? Why couldn’t she see that all she was doing was her job?
And that she wasn’t the bad one.
The Silvermans were. Her father was no better. His first phone call to her in how many months? And all he’d done was yell.
Told her she’d ruin his firm – like she gave a damn. She could just picture his face when she’d told him to sue the Express. He’d slammed the phone down. The fat hypocrite.
He and Alan Silverman were two of a kind… and he also got away with it because he was such a big, fat, rich, pillar of the community.
The fact that her mother had had to fight him for every penny, the fact that he had stopped paying maintenance for her the day she had graduated – nice graduation present, thanks, Dad – the fact that his new family went on holiday to London and Paris and Seychelles and Israel, and she and Maxine hadn’t been able to afford to go to anywhere for years, not even to Durban – none of that mattered to the fucking community she was supposed to be a part of.
No, they all just pretended they didn’t know what an arsehole her father was.
‘…And I told her that I’d told you to stop and…’ Maxine was still at it.
Tracy had had enough. Maybe there was something she was missing. It didn’t make sense why her mother, the rabbis, everyone in the entire fucking community was so convinced the stories about Alan Silverman weren’t true.
She got up, walked to the window and gazed out. The garden was dusty brown and sad. The street trees were bare and gnarled. She wished the jacarandas were out. That was the best time of the year, when Jo’burg was draped in a beautiful purple cloth.
It looked so calm. So peaceful. Jo’burg had more jacarandas than Pretoria, yet Pretoria claimed the title “Jacaranda City”.
Perception. Propaganda.
Say something often enough and people believe it.
People believe what they want to believe. What makes them comfortable and happy. Ostriches are happy. However, people aren’t fucking oversized birds with tiny, stupid heads.
She swung around. ‘Mom, explain it to me. Tell me why you insist Alan Silverman didn’t do it – any of it – apart from the fact that he’s Jewish. And rich.’
Maxine spluttered. ‘Because… well, because Jews just don’t do that kind of thing. You know that. I mean, I know Alan Silverman isn’t really one of us – I mean, Doris said he grew up Afrikaans. In the Free State, somewhere. But still. Jews don’t do that. Especially not frum ones.’
Tracy wanted to laugh, but she remembered that she’d thought exactly the same, until she’d done some research. She’d thought the Silvermans were freaks, but, when she’d googled “Jewish domestic violence”, she’d been shocked to discover that there were homes and shelters for abused women in Israel.
To be perfectly honest, her first thought was that those shelters must be for the Arabs, or for the other Jews – the ones from Yemen and Ethiopia and Nigeria. But then she’d read that they were for everyone. And, there were even shelters for ultra-religious Jewish women with all their dozens of kids too.
‘Mom, if these things don’t happen in our precious community, tell me why there’s a shelter for abused Jewish women right here in Johannesburg?’ Tracy asked, sharing the titbit of information that had stunned her when she’d found it, quite accidentally, in her rapid research frenzy.
‘Nonsense. I’ve never heard of such a thing. You must be mistaken,’ Maxine said. ‘I can’t imagine why there’s a need for such a thing.’
‘It does exist. It’s called Shalom Bayit. I don’t know where it is, but it’s run by Jewish Community Services. After the Silverman inquest is over, I’ll pay them a visit and see if I can do a story about how widespread abuse is in our precious community. They’re near here at Sandringham Gardens.’
She paused. Something rang a bell… Something had been said in court about Sandringham Gardens and Brenda Silverman. What was it?
‘Why? Why stir up more trouble? What’s the point? If we have a shelter for Jewish women – and I really don’t believe we do – then that’s something that should stay in the Jewish community. It doesn’t need to be broadcast to the world.’
Maxine was off again.
‘Mom, Jews are no different to anyone else. I admit, I was surprised to find out that there are abused Jewish women everywhere – America, England, Israel – and South Africa. But they will carry on being abused, because we have such a stupid culture of denial about it. We say it doesn’t happen to
us.
Bullshit. Sorry. But it does. Jewish men are not angels, as you very well know. They’re just men. I bet Brenda Silverman thought no one would believe her if she complained. I bet she thought she had no choice but to stay with that creep and be abused.’
‘She wasn’t abused, Tracy. She couldn’t have been. That was just that druggie son of hers saying that. And you’ll just make everything worse by putting more nonsense about our community in that paper of yours.’
‘Oh, Mom, let’s just drop it. Please. Just drop it. Here, what’s this on TV? A rerun of The Amazing Race. Let’s watch.’
She shook the packet of biscuits. Empty.
A Beautiful Family will be available at all leading bookshops and ebook stores from July 2014.
It is also available from MegaBooks.co.za.
Follow Women24 on Twitter and like us on Facebook.
About the book:
South Africa has been dubbed the rape and child abuse capital of the world. Every year, the Sixteen Days of Violence against Women and Children campaign highlights this scourge, as do innumerable discussions and articles in the media. Several current high profile cases – think Oscar Pistorius and Shrien Dewani – have raised awareness about a phenomenon dubbed IPV (Intimate Partner Violence).
However, most people regard these tragedies as aberrations. The “other kind” of IPV – the kind that involves long-term abuse - is generally regarded as being confined to South Africa’s deprived communities.
We all “know” that incest, wife battering, rape and general abuse are a consequence of poverty, overcrowding, lack of education and poor social infrastructure.
Things “like that” just don’t happen in the leafy suburbs – and certainly not within the close-knit, Jewish community. Do they?
In her hard hitting, fast paced, easy-to-read family saga, Marilyn Cohen de Villiers takes us behind the facade of the beautiful, wealthy, admired Silvermans and into the psyche of the abused as well as the abuser.
The novel also examines the reaction of the community to the realisation that “one of us” could do “things like that”.
Set against the backdrop of South Africa’s march to democracy and beyond, the novel spans 40 years and three countries.
The story is recounted through the flawed perspectives of seven characters: Brenda and Alan Silverman and their children Yair and Aviva; as well as anti-Apartheid activist Annette Davies; British millionaire Ben Shapiro; and Johannesburg newspaper reporter Tracy Jacobs.
Extract below:
Tracy wanted to cry. Why wouldn’t her mother defend her? Why couldn’t she see that all she was doing was her job?
And that she wasn’t the bad one.
The Silvermans were. Her father was no better. His first phone call to her in how many months? And all he’d done was yell.
Told her she’d ruin his firm – like she gave a damn. She could just picture his face when she’d told him to sue the Express. He’d slammed the phone down. The fat hypocrite.
He and Alan Silverman were two of a kind… and he also got away with it because he was such a big, fat, rich, pillar of the community.
The fact that her mother had had to fight him for every penny, the fact that he had stopped paying maintenance for her the day she had graduated – nice graduation present, thanks, Dad – the fact that his new family went on holiday to London and Paris and Seychelles and Israel, and she and Maxine hadn’t been able to afford to go to anywhere for years, not even to Durban – none of that mattered to the fucking community she was supposed to be a part of.
No, they all just pretended they didn’t know what an arsehole her father was.
‘…And I told her that I’d told you to stop and…’ Maxine was still at it.
Tracy had had enough. Maybe there was something she was missing. It didn’t make sense why her mother, the rabbis, everyone in the entire fucking community was so convinced the stories about Alan Silverman weren’t true.
She got up, walked to the window and gazed out. The garden was dusty brown and sad. The street trees were bare and gnarled. She wished the jacarandas were out. That was the best time of the year, when Jo’burg was draped in a beautiful purple cloth.
It looked so calm. So peaceful. Jo’burg had more jacarandas than Pretoria, yet Pretoria claimed the title “Jacaranda City”.
Perception. Propaganda.
Say something often enough and people believe it.
People believe what they want to believe. What makes them comfortable and happy. Ostriches are happy. However, people aren’t fucking oversized birds with tiny, stupid heads.
She swung around. ‘Mom, explain it to me. Tell me why you insist Alan Silverman didn’t do it – any of it – apart from the fact that he’s Jewish. And rich.’
Maxine spluttered. ‘Because… well, because Jews just don’t do that kind of thing. You know that. I mean, I know Alan Silverman isn’t really one of us – I mean, Doris said he grew up Afrikaans. In the Free State, somewhere. But still. Jews don’t do that. Especially not frum ones.’
Tracy wanted to laugh, but she remembered that she’d thought exactly the same, until she’d done some research. She’d thought the Silvermans were freaks, but, when she’d googled “Jewish domestic violence”, she’d been shocked to discover that there were homes and shelters for abused women in Israel.
To be perfectly honest, her first thought was that those shelters must be for the Arabs, or for the other Jews – the ones from Yemen and Ethiopia and Nigeria. But then she’d read that they were for everyone. And, there were even shelters for ultra-religious Jewish women with all their dozens of kids too.
‘Mom, if these things don’t happen in our precious community, tell me why there’s a shelter for abused Jewish women right here in Johannesburg?’ Tracy asked, sharing the titbit of information that had stunned her when she’d found it, quite accidentally, in her rapid research frenzy.
‘Nonsense. I’ve never heard of such a thing. You must be mistaken,’ Maxine said. ‘I can’t imagine why there’s a need for such a thing.’
‘It does exist. It’s called Shalom Bayit. I don’t know where it is, but it’s run by Jewish Community Services. After the Silverman inquest is over, I’ll pay them a visit and see if I can do a story about how widespread abuse is in our precious community. They’re near here at Sandringham Gardens.’
She paused. Something rang a bell… Something had been said in court about Sandringham Gardens and Brenda Silverman. What was it?
‘Why? Why stir up more trouble? What’s the point? If we have a shelter for Jewish women – and I really don’t believe we do – then that’s something that should stay in the Jewish community. It doesn’t need to be broadcast to the world.’
Maxine was off again.
‘Mom, Jews are no different to anyone else. I admit, I was surprised to find out that there are abused Jewish women everywhere – America, England, Israel – and South Africa. But they will carry on being abused, because we have such a stupid culture of denial about it. We say it doesn’t happen to
us.
Bullshit. Sorry. But it does. Jewish men are not angels, as you very well know. They’re just men. I bet Brenda Silverman thought no one would believe her if she complained. I bet she thought she had no choice but to stay with that creep and be abused.’
‘She wasn’t abused, Tracy. She couldn’t have been. That was just that druggie son of hers saying that. And you’ll just make everything worse by putting more nonsense about our community in that paper of yours.’
‘Oh, Mom, let’s just drop it. Please. Just drop it. Here, what’s this on TV? A rerun of The Amazing Race. Let’s watch.’
She shook the packet of biscuits. Empty.
A Beautiful Family will be available at all leading bookshops and ebook stores from July 2014.
It is also available from MegaBooks.co.za.
Follow Women24 on Twitter and like us on Facebook.
