Stories come in different shapes. There are stories told objectively by authors, omniscient people who perch above the narrative and give themselves licence to intrude into every private space, even into their character’s deepest thoughts and feelings, admitting no ambiguity because they have assumed an unquestioned authority as to what actually happened. Then there are those more modest authors who tell their story from a singular point of view. They can only guess at what is happening in other people’s lives and how the narrative will unfold. Then there are books recounted from multiple perspectives, perhaps the most stunning in the genre André Brink’s A Chain of Voices, in every chapter ambushing the reader into another version of reality, reminding us that every story, every history depends on the narrator.