The former addresses itself to the denial which has dominated worldwide reaction to AIDS, and confronts this denial squarely in an effort to undo it. There are light-hearted moments in the story, despite its desultory message when the maimed girl turns the table on those who berate and humiliate her, and leaves them less whole than the 'deformed' they so want to belittle.Two distinct responses to the growing body of literature on AIDS, according to Joseph Cady, are immersive and counter-immersive AIDS writing.

So back to my book: the novel raises the alarm that should have been rung long, long ago. Society ought to help the poor become nonpoor. There is no help when the person remains stuck in the same hellhole. The problem is convincing those stuck in poverty and the unwitting and/or cunning enablers, academics and politicians who fail to see there is no help when the person has no agency. Poverty is not new, neither is the begetting and raising of children.

The child grant does not begin to address the causes of the dire straits our children live in. What surprised me was the acceptance of poverty as unchangeable. 'This is a growing trend in the townships,' the social worker interviewing the young mother stated, concluding the article. We lead the world in fetal alcohol syndrome cases, with which we have lived for decades. What has happened to us, where we end up with a 13-year-old who plans pregnancy and subsequently maims her baby? We have to think hard about the kind of society we are, where such a terrible thing happens - with our eyes wide open. They are ours in community for we are the village into which they are born innocent. My emotions swirled and went from pure horror to blame but, eventually, I realised that blame is not action and what was called for was action - on behalf of the children of this nation, our children.

Years ago I read an article in The Echo (a local community newspaper) about a teen mom who said she'd deliberately maimed her unborn child for the higher grant that deformed babies receive. Call it divine guidance, a nudge from the ancestors, but my conscience would not let me be.

Beauty's Gift by Sindiwe Magona