The Dubious Salvation of Jack V.

Jack Viljee’s hometown of Johannesburg is still divided by apartheid, though the old order is starting to crumble. According to eleven-year-old Jack, the world is a rational and simple place. But if life doesn’t conform to Jack’s expectations, there is always the sympathy and approval of the family’s maid to console him. Not that Susie is a pushover. She believes violence, of the non-disfiguring variety, is a healthy form of affection—hence her not infrequent expression "Jack, I love you so much. I will hit you." Jack himself is not above socking his best friend in the eye or scamming his little sister into picking up the dog mess. The Viljee household, in its small way, mirrors the politics of the country.

This noisy domesticity is upset by the arrival of Susie’s fifteen-year-old son. Percy is bored, idle, and full of rage. When Percy catches Jack in an indelibly shameful moment, Jack learns that the smallest act of revenge has consequences beyond his imagining. The world, it turns out, is not so simple.

Subversively smart and unapologetically funny, clever and a little dangerous, The Dubious Salvation of Jack V. explores the cost of forgiveness. It is a powerful debut from a fearlessly original voice.

A random page test of the book - well, honestly, I was looking for something queer since André Aciman offered praise on the back of book:

I noticed Chad, one of the boys from my school, standing by the elephant enclosure. Chad was thirteen and in standard five. Everybody knew he lived in Mayfair Boys' Home, the orphanage. He was wearing a tattered pair of shorts and a singlet. He had smooth brown limbs and was handsome. Tucked behind his ear was a cigarette. I was embarrassed to be with Petrus and my sister. Chad was hard and beautiful. I was soft and spoiled. I was wearing a new pair of Wranglers and a shirt from Edgars that cost a lot of money. My mother had stuffed wads of cash in my pocket. I was sure Chad's parents were dead because it was impossible that anyone could have given up a child this beautiful. His name was as appealing as his good looks. How magnificent that his parents, before they died, should give him that name - and American name, a name for movie stars and rock musicians. Amazing that these things could just be done. Chad. In a world full of Petruses and Johanneses and Brandts and Steyns and Erensts and Emils how very refresshing, how very exotic. Chad was sporty too. He played soccer and cricket for the A team. People said his schoolwork was as tidy as the tidiest, the most studious of girls - but this never placed him under suspicion of moffieness, for his prowess on the sporting field served to dispel any such aspersions. At the age of eleven I didn't have any specific ideas about what I would like to do with Chad - proximity to this fine individual would be sufficient. It was only when I was much older that I realized proximity was a very poor substitute for a good fuck. (54-55)

HA!