Chanette Paul puts Riana Mouton in the spotlight

How does the geographic distance contribute to writing about South African issues?

I sometimes feel unbelievably isolated in New Zealand. I long intensely for my country, my people, the essence of Africa. It is terribly frustrating to write in another country about something that’s happening in South Africa. In my most recent manuscript I battled with the prices of food. It probably sounds strange, but I’m completely out of touch with food prices, property prices, the changes of town and place names.

Why did you, as a female author, choose a male lead character in The Smell of Death?

I didn’t find it difficult. I associate easily with men, I like their unpretentious points of view and opinions. My husband is passionate and intense–many of his traits and those of my beautiful sons emerge in my characters. I observe and I have taken to carrying a digital recorder when the men in my life are firing on all cylinders.

Who is Junior Scheepers, your lead character, when he looks in the mirror at midnight?

Junior tries to be a good guy and an example to his sister. He would like to shine and he doesn’t want to become a victim of his loveless childhood. But he is still trying to find his identity. He still bears the painful yoke of rejection and bitterness–he is his own worst enemy.

Do you have a series in mind?

I’m definitely planning another book with Junior and Gerard cast in the leads. I had an overwhelming response and many requests from people who would like to read more about Junior.

What was The Smell of Death to you?

There were two perspectives for me as I was writing: the murderer’s and Junior’s. I read Dave Pelzer’s book A boy called It. I spent many days quietly internalising the heart-breaking abuse this child suffered. Moreover, I was in awe by the success he made of his life. A friend also told me about Stewart Wilken, alias Boetie Boer. Wilken is a sentenced serial killer who murdered boys and women. There were marked points of contact between the childhoods of Wilken and Pelzer. I searched deeper, researched carefully, and asked thousands of questions. When does one become a serial killer? Is it a conscious choice? Is it the abuse? Serial killers are not insane. For the most part, they are ‘normal’. Only a very few of them, such as Ed Gein, can claim an insanity defence. Not even Dahmer was insane. What makes these people commit these sick acts? What makes one a necrophile? What drives one to murder one’s own child? I pored for hours over this subject.

I was privileged to meet Prof. Gerard Labuschagne. He assessed my murderer carefully and gave valuable advice. His unbelievable insight and extraordinary empathy gave me many ideas to carry on when I didn’t feel like writing. It was important to me that the reader should understand how the police really work–what a psychological profile is. By the way, Prof. Labuschagne actually constructed the profile in The Smell of Death.

The Smell of Death and Without a Trace have male leads. Is it easier to write a thriller from a masculine point of view, or would a female character succeed also?

It isn’t difficult for me to assume a male point of view. I have THREE of them around day and night. I have a constant running battle with them and have to put a foot down once in a while to keep my femininity among the rams!

I like my husband’s and my sons’ unpretentious and points of view. The Angel is passionate and intense–many of his good traits and those of my beautiful boys surface in my characters. I am a sharp observer, an Analyst, perhaps. Sometimes, just sometimes, men are straight-forward and without airs.

I expect I’d be able to ‘tell’ a woman. I’ve been planning a strong woman for a while now. An unafraid woman with spunk in her bones!

What comes first for you, the story or the character?

Always the story. I spend weeks, no, months, rolling around the idea in my head. I build the story as I write.

How did you come upon Junior?

Junior is a childhood hero–the storybook hero I would like. When I read a book, I always tried to imagine what my hero would have been like, had I written a book: Beautifully imperfect, plain, witty, naughty and dark.

I see you’ve credited Deon Meyer among others in your book. How did his books inspire you to tackle the crime beat? What was the best advice he gave you?

I place Deon Meyer’s work on a very high pedestal. His advice was to find my own voice and to make it as strong as I am capable of. The inspiration to write, and particularly a book like this, actually came from another source. Professor Tom Gouws sowed the seed that would make me write.

What have you learnt from the writing and reception of your debut novel?

An author is lonely. It is an emotional thing–a dark cocoon. Those around you don’t understand what writing is about. Emotions that see-saw, writer’s block, telephones that ring, visitors… and NO-ONE that understands that all I want to do is to write! Unfortunately I don’t have recourse to an idyllic island, a beautiful, isolated beach cottage, an open window with white lace curtains waving in the breeze, a typewriter and a glass of wine. A phone that rings can derail a perfect sentence. When I launched into my second book my boys had a better understanding and helped a lot. My husband has a great way of describing me when I write: The lights are on, but nobody’s home… The reception of my debut novel? My husband wanted to know when I think up all these things and worriedly called my mother. “Child, what will the minister say?”

Any clues about your next book?

My next book is not a sequel to The Smell of Death. I wanted to take a breather after all the research, photos, dossiers and articles dealing with serial killers. I have a problem with people who underestimate others. Like recently, with Susan Boyle on Britian’s got Talent–she was judged according to her looks and practically eliminated before she started singing. People can be prejudiced–snobish, pretentious. And they often judge others according to what they wear, the size of their car or the depth of the bank account. Alex Cloete is a man who is underestimated by his enemies–with deadly results…

Upon request, Riana supplied two short but key extracts that lays bare Junior’s essence.

Junior sits down at the television. Nina is unpacking clothes. Distracted, he hops form channel to channel, but finds nothing of interest. He turns off the set, leans back and lights a cigarette. He toys with the idea of reading, but he knows it’s not worth the effort even trying.

It is a warm, oppressive evening. Sometimes he feels he ought to pull himself from the black mud; he feels as if he wants to take a deep breath and live uproariously. But it has become part of his existence. Pain and uncertainty have taken the ginger out of him. He puts out the cigarette. How many times has he found excuses for his actions? He wanted to explain it to Suzette. But he could not.

He walks out. He stops on the back porch and looks up to the bright canopy of stars. He looks at the dark patches under the trees where the outside lights cannot reach. He likes the dark. He does not know why. Perhaps because he found a dark, sinister part of himself.

Surely something has changed. He wants to know, he wants to live. There is a spark of hope. He wants to forget. He wants to get back on his feet.

How a man falls doesn’t count, how he gets up does.

A gentleness touched his eyes. Edwin Abrahams. He was an affirmative action-appointment–moved into a position in a very hostile environment. A quiet man. Upright. True. He had lost his family in a car accident years previously; put his life back together again and remarried.

He ponders why he should have a feeling of hope. A rush of adrenalin–the corpse of the murdered young woman now had a face and a name. He can feel the excitement of the hunt.

And later, a scene that is connected to the extract above, where Junior makes a break-through—where he fights back.

Stewart strode briskly to his vehicle. He could hear Junior approaching from behind. He quickened his pace and only came to a halt at the ute. He swallows and turns.

“Junior, I . . . . . . ”

The first blow was to his stomach. He doubled up and gasped for breath. He held out his hand. “Junior wait . . . . . . ”

Another blow to the stomach, the next to his right cheek. His head jerked back. He stumbled against the vehicle.

“Please . . . . . . ”

“Take it on the chin like a man, Stewart.”

Stewart’s breath rasped in his throat. . . . . . . The next blow landed solidly. Stewarts’ hed whiplashed back and he sank to the ground. Blood streamed from his nose as Junior bent over him. He jerked Stewart to his feet.

“You destroyed her life, Stewart.” His voice cracked. “you wanted to get at me, right?” His fist swung. “Right, Stewart?”

Stewart panted. “Junior, ple . . . . . . ”

He grabbed him by the chest, forced him against the wall. “You nearly succeeded, Stewart. You almost detryed what was valuable to me.” He let go, shook his head and exhaled audibly.

“It isn’t how a man goes down, Stewart. It’s about how he gets up again.”

His face was close to James’. “We will get up again.”

He turned and strode off.

James Stewart slumped to his haunches.