Essay: Mark Behr’s The Smell of Apples

Erasmus. A peculiar choice of surname for the “idyllic” Afrikaner family in Mark Behr’s The Smell of Apples. The 15th and 16th-century Dutch scholar and humanist who promulgated an ideology of common human goodness and value is an ironic namesake for a family dedicated to the continued application of apartheid’s oppressive principles (Stobie; Tracy). While history textbooks, rightfully so, focus on the cruel and abhorrent colonization of black South Africans, the apartheid ideology infected all corners of life, including relationships between white elites. To build and maintain a society prefaced on a strict social hierarchy, that hierarchy must extend to all parts of a society. To have a situation where there is a question as to who is in charge is to have a situation where debates and arguments can occur. Once people begin to debate ideas and stop blindly answering authority, societies predicated on unjust and illogical subjugation fall apart. Thus, it is not surprising that apartheid manifested in a hyper-patriarchal order, grounded in stringent gender roles, in addition to the divides between races and classes.
At first glance, the Erasmus family seems to be an Edenic microcosm of the apartheid systems that dominated South Africa. As Cheryl Stobie so eloquently describes in her 2008 essay Fissures in Apartheid’s “Eden”: Representations of Bisexuality in “The Smell of Apples” by Mark Behr, “on the surface Dad, as he is called in the novel, is the ideal, upstanding epitome of the patriarch, military man, and conservative Afrikaner hero. Dad’s word is law in the household, although he prefers not to use violence to enforce it.” Leonore, referred to as Mum throughout, embodies the ideal Afrikaner woman. She is deferential to her husband, dedicates her time to tending to the children, and keeps her opinions and thoughts to herself. Ilse and Marnus are the epitome of well-heeled Afrikaner children. Ilse is accomplished beyond her age, at 17 years old already the head girl of her class, proficient in nearly every school activity, and even was given a scholarship to study singing in Holland for six weeks. Marnus is described as a “carbon copy of [his] father,” is a dutiful follower of his parents’ commands, and is the willing recipient of the apartheid ideology that is impressed on him as he ages (35). As the novel progresses, though, it becomes clear that the characters not only fail to live up to apartheid’s standards, but they actually possess traits in egregious violation of those norms. By inextricably linking the Erasmus family to the apartheid systems, Behr is able to use the family’s inability to satisfy society’s imperative gender rules to demonstrate the fragility and inevitable failure of apartheid.
Reading the novel through the eyes of Marnus provides a unique perspective into the fears, desires, and outlook of the young Erasmus boy, painting a clear picture of his many shortcomings with regard to apartheid masculinity. Throughout the novel Marnus’ idolized vision of his father weighs heavily on his conscious. The desire to fulfill the hyper-masculine role expected of Marnus is nowhere clearer than in his encounter with the shark. While fishing with Frikkie, Marnus hooks a shark that proves difficult to bring ashore. After struggling to reel it in for nearly an hour, Marnus refuses to give in to Frikkie’s appeals to cut the line, even as he “is pulled in[to]” the water (92). Marnus is willing to put his own life on the line in an effort to not appear weak in front of his father. Even after learning that he has caught a shark, which is only eaten by “Coloureds,” Marnus still refuses to let go as “tears stream down [his] face” (94; 95). When the shark finally gets away, it is clear that Marnus has disappointed his father, who remarks “he beat you” before “turn[ing] and walk[ing] away” (98). Marnus almost wishes his father dead, sputtering “I wish…” before his mind turns towards “the orphans in the beach house,” and he abandons the thought (98). In a decidedly different showing of weakness, Marnus’ refusal to confront his father about the raping of Frikkie further shows his lack of fortitude in the face of conflict. Marnus chooses to suppress his feelings of known immorality to salvage his relationship with his father. Interestingly enough, the homosexual rape of a young boy by a grown man would surely be frowned upon as a sign of weakness by the apartheid society, making Marnus’ refusal to step forward more profound. The “masculine” action in such a scenario would have been to condemn the perpetrator, even if it was his father. Instead, Marnus slipped into a decidedly unmasculine cycle of submission that continued through his adult life.
Marnus’ lack of authority and confidence was especially evident in the passages from his time fighting for the SADF in Angola. After an ambush in Angola, “the black section leader asks [Marnus] whether [he] has instructions,” to which Marnus responds “no” (178). The lack of leadership displayed by Marnus is exasperated by the revelation that he “kept on running” during the ambush, alluding to how he deserted his troops, even after being “call[ed]” (178). Marnus lacks both the militaristic instinct of a soldier and the militaristic masculinity demanded of every male in the apartheid society. The failure of Marnus to live up to the standards of his country is emblematic of the falling power of apartheid. The striking difference between the militaristic capabilities of Johan and Marnus alludes to the slipping power of apartheid: even though one generation earlier, when Johan was in command of the military, apartheid was quite strong, the system’s power was slipping by the time Marnus took over.
Towards the beginning of the novel, Mum comes across as cautious and domestic, dedicating her life to caring for the children rather than pursuing her own professional interest of singing. The submissive facade begins to deteriorate, though, when it is revealed that she listens to jazz music, which is “one step away” from being “communist,” without her husband’s knowledge (101; 67). While seemingly insignificant, the small act of defiance portends an emerging pattern of infidelity in a society where women were to be unquestioningly faithful to their husband’s desires. Ultimately, the infidelity manifests itself in the ultimate act of betrayal: an adulterous extramarital affair with the Chilean general. Witnessed by Marnus, he describes how at first he believes the “reddish reflection in the mirror” in the General’s room to be Ilse, but it later becomes clear that Marnus knows it was Mum, who was previously described as having a “pink” face (155; 153). Marnus’ attempt to subvert the adultery onto Ilse is a futile attempt to protect mother’s fidelity and status as a wife. If not even Mum, the beautiful, pious, and domestic wife of the Edenic Afrikaner family can abide by the most basic of marital promises, a society grounded in rules far more intrusive certainly cannot live up to them.
While Johan Marnus attempts to portray himself as unwaveringly masculine in accordance with the standards set forth by apartheid, his inability to live up to such strict codes demonstrates the ultimate futility of such a system. From the outset of the novel, Behr begins to plant the seeds that Dad isn’t quite the virtuous embodiment of apartheid he appears to be. While taking a shower with his son, Marnus, he asks him whether “that little man of [his] stands up in the mornings,” which at first seems to be an innocuous question about his son’s changing body, but later will become a symbol of pent-up homosexual pedophilic desire (63). Another seemingly innocent moment that is later revealed as perverted occurs when Johan takes Frikkie and Marnus swimming without clothing. While Frikkie is at first reluctant, after several days watching from shore he succumbs to the will of Johan and joins them in the water. Marnus describes how Dad “catches [him] from behind, picks [him] up and carries [him] under his arm, right into the waves,” an action that appears to stem from a fatherly desire to protect his son but later seems to be more motivated by sexual impulses and an urge to assert control (50). Behr’s inclusion of the two incidents is especially clever as the two incidents take on different significance depending on whether one is familiar with the end of the novel. Reading the novel for the first time, the incidents display the subtle cracks in the supposedly perfect world occupied by the Erasmus family. While neither is blatantly alarming, reading about the interactions leaves the reader with a slight queasiness stemming from a gut feeling that something is amiss. In hindsight, knowing about Johan’s predatory instincts, the scenes read as the perverted sexual grooming of children by a man who claims “masturbation is a terrible sin” (175). While the covert pedophilic actions of Dad allude to the cracks forming in the system of apartheid, the end of the novel sees the dam burst when father’s slight transgressions morph into an egregious violation of accepted behavior.
The pedophilic sexual grooming culminates in Dad’s rape of Frikkie, which is secretly observed by Marnus. Homosexuality was regarded as an abhorrent sin in the devout Christian apartheid society, painting Dad, the righteous and religious general, as a hypocrite of the highest degree. Stobie quotes Clare Hemmings, a Professor of feminist theory at the London School of Economics, in her article, dubbing Dad “a double agent, who acts as a libertine while mouthing the ascetic pieties of purity” (Stobie). The duality of Dad is apparent in the assault itself, as Johan is violently committing an act of aggression, but he notably also takes some gentler actions during the rape that appear at odds with the crime’s violent nature. Marnus describes how in addition to “push[ing] his mister into Frikkie’s bum” and holding a “pillow down over Frikkie’s head,” Dad “kiss[ed] him,” and “use[d] his one hand to hold himself up on the bed” (175-176). The tender actions of kissing and of supporting his weight stand out amidst the violence of rape (Stobie). They allude to Dad’s emotional desire to be in a homosexual relationship: he is not raping Frikkie exclusively to demonstrate power but is, in fact, fulfilling a suppressed sexual urge. Furthermore, after Marnus lashes out at Dad for the rape (without ever stating that he knows what happened), Johan beats him before “tears [begin to] run from his eyes and his mouth [becomes] pulled down at the corners” (197). Father’s guilt about his actions speaks to an internalized shame and acknowledgment of his failure to live up to society’s standards. The figure of Dad reveals that “the white male  Afrikaner, and by extension apartheid South Africa, cannot live up to the strictures at its heart” (Stobie).
Looking at Behr’s The Smell of Apples with knowledge of his background and of the time during which it was published, the story of the Erasmus family is hardly surprising. Many parallels can be drawn between Behr and the Erasmus’, from his upbringing in Tanzania to his closeted homosexuality. Georgie Horrell, a teaching associate and researcher at the University of Cambridge, discusses the mass-prevalence of guilty white masculinities in post-apartheid South African literature in her essay Post? Apartheid Disgrace: Guilty Masculinities in White South African Writing. Given his later admission to spying on behalf of the apartheid regime, The Smell of Apples begins to appear to follow this trend, functioning as an outlet for Behr to address his guilt through characters somewhat distanced from himself: it is a work of fiction, not an autobiography. Like the characters in the novel, Behr was unable to live up to the standards imposed on men by apartheid. Additionally, though, he was also unable to live up to his own moral standards, succumbing to pressure to aid the all-powerful government in its oppressive efforts. Within Behr’s life story lies an answer to why the apartheid government lasted as long as it did: the repressive and illogical standards laid out for its citizens made the fall of apartheid inevitable, but the oppressive system refused to die peacefully, utilizing its might to employ even those opposed to the regime as assets, all the way up until the very end.