In Alice in Johannesburg, Marianna Lunardoni creates a work that resists simple categorization. Part blog novel, part illustrated diary, part sonic experiment, the project becomes — almost unintentionally — a meditation on memory, identity, and the ruptured history of 1970s South Africa. The result is a narrative rooted in personal recollection yet attentive to historical nuance, speaking to the reader through image, sound, and emotional resonance. A defining feature of the project is its sly, pervasive irony — never aimed at the victims, always reserved for those who truly deserve it. It doesn’t diminish tragedy; instead, it distills complex realities into moments of clarity and wit, making even the densest histories surprisingly accessible.
Annika’s Disorienting Homecoming
At the centre of the story is Annika, a young Afrikaner raised in Switzerland, who returns to Johannesburg with only a partial understanding of the apartheid system that once shaped every corner of the city. Her homecoming is not triumphant; it is disorienting, haunted by the tension between what she remembered as a child and what she now understands as an adult. Lunardoni handles this duality with quiet, persistent honesty, which becomes the backbone of the narrative.
Voices of Resilience: The Constellation Around Annika
Around Annika moves a constellation of characters that mirror the country’s complexity: Ray, a restless student activist in Alexandra; Corina, a sophisticated boutique owner whose elegance conceals clandestine resistance work; Adrian, a police officer torn between duty and conscience; and Vinicius from Soweto, whose struggle embodies vulnerability and defiance at once. None of them are archetypes. They are living, conflicted presences — fragments of a society stretched between violence, resilience, and fragile hope. Almost a character itself is the “Taxi Business,” purposely capitalized, as in the narrative this term does not merely denote the informal activity of drivers compensating for the lack of transport in Johannesburg’s black townships, but a specific taxi — the one used for this purpose — which becomes a symbol of resilience and, simultaneously, a unique, small oasis of freedom where people can speak without fear, be together, and even… make love.
Illustration as Emotional Geography
Lunardoni’s illustrations, though not seeking technical perfection — she does not consider herself a professional illustrator, even if she has previously illustrated children’s books — are far from quick sketches or minimalist compositions. They are rich in detail, vivid in colour, and deeply attentive to the human figure. Their purpose is not documentary reproduction — a task better accomplished by photographers such as Andrew Cleland and Ilan Ossendryver, whose images generously appear in the project — but emotional evocation. Drawing on principles borrowed from children’s illustration (though these works are not for children), Lunardoni depicts a world free of overly complex metaphors, imperfect for sure, yet one in which the reader might wish to dive again the following day.
AI as a Creative Bridge, Not a Substitute
This visual dimension is enhanced by original AI-generated music that lends an almost cinematic depth to the narrative. The experimental AI-narrated audiobook pushes the project into the realm of multimedia installation. Lunardoni does not view artificial intelligence as a replacement for human creativity; rather, she frames it as a bridge — a tool that allowed her, working on free platforms, to overcome linguistic and technical barriers while maintaining full creative autonomy.
A Second Timeline: Mythic South Africa
Running parallel to Alice in Johannesburg is a second narrative universe, Once Upon a Time South Africa, set during the era of the Great Trek. Here, Lunardoni shifts from the urban tension of apartheid-era Johannesburg to a more mythic, almost folkloric South Africa — a land suspended between history and legend, enriched by detailed illustrations. Stylistically distinct yet spiritually connected, this companion project deepens the reader’s understanding of the author’s fascination with the country’s layered past.
South Africa as a Territory of the Soul
What unites these works is Lunardoni’s vision of South Africa as a “territory of the soul”: not a monolithic representation of Africa, but a personal geography shaped by early childhood memories in Johannesburg and adult years spent in Senegal, Zambia, and Uganda. These experiences grant her writing a grounded, lived authenticity, far removed from the clichés that often distort narratives about the continent.
An Immersive Artistic Ecosystem
Ultimately, Alice in Johannesburg and its sister projects offer more than a story: they create an artistic ecosystem. Text, sound, and image converge into an immersive, reflective experience that invites readers to engage not only with history but with the emotional landscapes that history leaves behind.
Explore the Projects
Alice in Johannesburg → https://bit.ly/4ot6G95
Once Upon a Time, South Africa → https://bit.ly/4oWun9h
Alice Is No Longer (In Wonderland) → https://bit.ly/4qRzOZe
About The Author
Marianna Lunardoni is an Italian journalist-turned-blog-novelist, whose childhood in Johannesburg continues to shape her storytelling. Like her protagonist Annika in Alice in Johannesburg, she left South Africa too young to grasp the realities of apartheid, yet those early impressions became the spark for her richly imagined worlds.
Lunardoni’s work blends literature, illustration, and music in ways rarely seen: Alice in Johannesburg, Once Upon a Time South Africa, and Alice Is No Longer (In Wonderland) are blog-novels brought to life with hand-drawn visuals and AI-generated soundtracks, offering readers a fully immersive journey into both 1970s Johannesburg and 19th-century South Africa.
Fluent in English and French, she embraces technology — including AI for translation and multimedia creation — as a bridge between imagination and audience. Her narratives invite readers to step into history, emotion, and colour, exploring South Africa as both a real place and a “territory of the soul.”
