Mention that esoteric phrase, 'the great South African novel' and conversation inevitably turns to 'Story of an African Farm', 'Cry The Beloved Country', anything by JM Coetzee, anything politically loaded with the thematic spectre of apartheid. Thing is, we're fourteen years into a democracy and racial segregation is literary passé if not quite a fading memory. Why are there so few offerings attempting to address the new South African reality?

"Up until 1994, there was something offensive about a South African story that simply bypassed politics," says Capetonian novelist Damon Galgut. "In theory, that's not the case anymore. We're free to write about absolutely anything. But in practise it's not so simple, just because this is a very highly politicised society. The society is still shaped by the weird politics that apartheid depended on, so that even seemingly innocent subjects take you into that area."

Enter the former teenage prodigy's 'The Impostor', a 213 page account of a white man's struggle for self-realisation after being usurped by a young black intern, as stark and desolate as the Karoo where much of the story takes place. Galgut is in a playful mood, toying with the ironies and literary metaphors: aspiring poet Adam finds Beauty in his rural retreat, just not in a metaphysical sense, but rather a garish, black and eminently desirable former hooker and her enigmatic husband Canning. He finds both redemption and rejection in their friendship and cocktail parties on the game farm Gondwana, but things are not quite as they seem. And then there is the literal fork in the road decision Adam takes to condemn his turncoat neighbour…

The plot is punctured with stabs of racialism, government corruption and protest, white guilt, BEE deals, greed and the transcendent colour of money. Throughout this compelling narrative, the chief protagonist dominates, whether searching blindly for poetic inspiration or fighting a futile battle against a field of weeds. His infuriating vulnerability and lack of conviction are ultimately endearing. Initially struggling with gravity like a sagging paunch, the author's poise and explosive use of language quickly see the drama move up a few gears.

At one point, the mayor of the village reprimands Adam for the presence of three alien trees in his garden, which are against regulations. Like these 'impostors', Galgut encroaches on a new literary frontier, embracing all the complexities of South Africa in 2008 in a highly-readable translucent prose.

This is a worthy follow-up to the phenomenonally successful 'The Good Doctor', and should join its predecessor on the nomination lists. South Africa remains a country more balanced in the view of the outside world than within its borders. "The guards and the thieves were the same people — there's South Africa in a nutshell," says a Galgut character, at one point. Revolution continua.