Truth as defined by the Cambridge Dictionary is “the real facts about a situation, event, or person.” However, what an individual defines as real is subjective and although a person may be exposed to the same event as another, the way in which each person perceives the event may not be the same. This past year in ASTU, a great number of our texts and conversations have centred around the idea of truth. From Sarah Polley’s “Stories We Tell,” to Rigoberta Menchu’s bibliography, to “Maus,” and now “Disgrace,” the theme of truth is undoubtedly prevalent. However, although our class has been exposed to a plethora of texts with truth as a common theme, we have not been able to fully grasp what this word really means; could there even be a definition for it?

One method of defining truth can be portrayed through its relation with memory. It is through our memories that one reflects and defines what had occurred and what is true. In Art Spiegelman’s “Maus,” a non-fiction graphic narrative of his father’s experience during the Holocaust, the story is predominantly told through his father’s recollection of the past. However, Spiegelman makes an effort to portray to his audience that his father’s memory may not be fully reliable. It is understandable that someone in his old age who has withstood the scarring pains of the Holocaust would be unable to remember, or confuse certain details and events. However, if there is a possibility that parts of the story did not occur, does that still make “Maus” a non-fiction narrative? Is Spiegelman’s work still a reliable source of information about the Holocaust? Is what is said true?

Moreover, if forgetting details disrupts the definition of truth, then is deliberately leaving details still considered truth? In the most recent novel we read, “Disgrace,” J. M. Coetzee alludes to themes of Truth and Reconciliation during the Apartheid. In one particular scene David Lurie and his daughter, Lucy, gets attacked in their home. Lucy is ultimately rapped by two men, however she chooses to not disclose this information to the police. During the investigation of the event, Lucy speaks to the police about all that occurred, but deliberately leaves out the information about her being rapped. Although she spoke truthfully about the event, she chooses to avoid including certain details. Is not telling the full story still considered truth? Is her testimony still valid and effective?

The word truth is so tricky, and even after having explored this theme for almost a year, I still have not arrived to a satisfying conclusion as to what this word means. The more I explore this word, the more questions I have about it. As human beings we are bound to forget, and even if one chooses to document events, not all details will be recorded. This brings us to the idea of whether truth is even achievable, or whether it should even be a word at all.

Antjie Krog encompasses this idea perfectly. In “Country of My Skull,” her book about the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, when she speaks about truth she explains:

“I hesitate at the word, I am not used to using it. Even when I type it, it ends up as either turth or trth. I have never bedded that word in a poem. I prefer the word ‘lie’. The moment the lie raises its head, I smell blood. Because it is there … where the truth is closest (50).”

It’s difficult using the word truth because the word itself does not have an accurate definition. The word is subjective, and each person may have a different recollection of what they define as real. Lies, on the other hand, are words with the intention of straying from what one believes to have occurred. Krog identifies this and reveals that truth is closest when lies occur because it is the intended deviation from truth. In other words, you have to know the truth in order to lie. With that being said, maybe the discussion should not be centred around truth, but instead on intent. What is the purpose of the words we use? What is the story that is being told? Is it one that is honest or one that is deliberately deceptive?

This poses another set of questions, but maybe they are ones that are simpler to answer.