“Until recently, I have chosen not to be drawn into discussions or evocations of her life, notably in documentary films, some unforgivably bad,” he writes. “But precisely because of these I have begun to believe that perhaps I owe it to her at last to unfold, without drama or melodrama, some of the things I have kept to myself. Not the icon but the person. The woman I loved. And who nearly drove me mad.”
Read Andrew Donaldson’s article in The Times.
Read more about South African poet, Ingrid Jonker, on the Poetry International Web.
A Fork in the Road: André Brink on Ingrid Jonker
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Peony Moon 