1. Have you read any Andre Brink? What did you think?

    I’m not familiar with Andre Brink, but he looks like an interesting writer! In terms of South African writers, Nadine Gordimer has been on my to read list forever. I wonder: Is she or Brink at all similar to Coetzee? How widely are authors like these read in South Africa?

    What are your thoughts on Brink?

    PS - I’ve also read Courtenay, but he seems like a different kind of writer.

  2. Hi, so I just found your blog thru a post you left about Disgrace by Coetzee. In that post you said it had occurred to you that Disgrace was a reaction against Roth's Kepesh. As I am currently sort of obsessed with Roth and have been a constant reader of Coetzee's work in the last couple of years, would you mind explaining that thought? Just if you want to. Because I found it interesting but couldn't put my finger on it.

    Hi! Definitely! I feel like Roth (who I thoroughly enjoy reading) is one of the more prominent older male writers who cast stand-in type characters in academia and have them court younger women, students or former students of theirs. I can’t think of other examples, but it definitely feels like a persistent trope. Kepesh is the prime example with the obviously lascivious The Professor of Desire and The Breast. (Which lead up to the more well rounded and poignant The Dying Animal.)It’s interesting, and I don’t generally delve too deeply into whether or not novels are autobiographical, but I’ve heard that Roth hasn’t spent much time in academia, which then begs the question of what it might signify for him or readers who are not…well, professors of desire.

    Maybe you’re familiar with all this. It helps me to lay it out, though, and I assume others might not be so familiar. Kepesh isn’t the most well known of Roth’s works, right?

    I don’t think Coetzee would be so simple as to write a book directly in response to another contemporary author, but it does feel like Coetzee saw the trope and wanted to explore it more thoroughly. Kepesh, if we can take the character to be representative, seems like a figure generally controlling sexual situations. But maybe I’m remembering the first two novels through the lens of The Dying Animal, which would be a mistake. Regardless, in Disgrace, Coetzee’s protagonist begins with this kind of power dynamic but then spirals downwards perhaps as a result of it.

    In retrospect, my idea of Coetzee actually responding to Roth seem premature. I hadn’t looked up the dates. The Professor of Desire was published in 1977. Disgrace was in 1999. Of course, The Dying Animal was published in 2001, so it might be said that Roth was responding to Coetzee.

  3. D is for Disgrace

    Coetzee. The first adjective I heard/read for him was ‘austere.’ This was before I read anything by him. It was astonishing how much that description fit his writing. It’s funny that Coetzee and Melville are the two authors I’ve read the most deeply and they are so different. Their questions are the same though, I think.

    In college, there was this guy who walked everywhere reading. I scoffed at him inwardly. I only commented about it out loud once. There was probably a hint of jealousy there, in me. I wished I was absorbed enough and unhesitant enough to take each step with the syncopation of some author’s words, words, words. There was also a hint of arrogance there, in him. I won’t indulge in elaborating, but he was in the class I took on Rushdie, Greene, and Coetzee. It definitely wasn’t just the walking-while-reading that rubbed me the wrong way.

    Anyway, when it came time to read Disgrace, I found myself doing exactly what I resented in him. I did not put that book down. Walk to dinner reading. Walk to the library. Reading. Sit down and continue to read. Back to the dorm. Reading. In the fading light. In the pools cast by street lights. In bed. Reading.

    (I also read the entirety of The Life and Times of Michael K in the Vegas airport.)

    I actually enrolled in the Rushdie, Greene, and Coetzee class without having read any of them before. Why? I liked the questions asked in the course description. Questions about faith and…well, here’s the course description:

    It seems perverse to examine J. M. Coetzee’s and Salman Rushdie’s work through the prism of belief, given their deconstructive procedures, which systematically undermine if not belief altogether, then the source of belief as so ideologically determined as to be suspect. It seems even more perverse to read these two alongside Graham Greene, who converted to Catholicism at a young age. Yet, this course will do precisely that—examine belief by (re)marking on those utopian moments that while not transcending doubt are also not amenable to categorical deconstruction in their work. Diversity, Post-1900. (taught by Anuradha Needham)

    Just random thoughts now. I read Philip Roth the year after I took this course. It occurred to me that Disgrace could be read as a reaction against the lecherous Kepesh character.

  4. Typee was published in 1846, when Melville was 27. Moby-Dick was published when he was 32. (When Melville was on, he was ON.)

    1984 was published in 1949, when Orwell was 46. His first novel Burmese Days was published when he was 31.

    The Edible Woman was published in 1969, when Atwood was 30. The Handmaid’s Tale was published 16 years later, though.

    Fitzgerald was crazy. He was 24 when This Side of Paradise was published and 29 for Gatsby.

    Joyce got Dubliners published at 32, but he published a collection of poetry seven years prior. Ulysses came when he was 40, with only Portrait and a play in between.

    I want to talk about Beckett, but…(Kafka too, for different reasons, of course)

    Coetzee started publishing at 34, but I think the story goes that he didn’t commit himself to novels until 35.

    Philip Roth started publishing at 26.

    Junot Diaz was 28 when Drown came out.

    Capote’s first novel came out when he was 24. In Cold Blood came out 17 years later.

    Sarah Vowell started publishing around 28.

    Susan Sontag’s first experimental novel came at age 30. Her nonfiction started at 33.

    Diane Ackerman published poetry at 28 and nonfiction at 32.

    Edward Abbey was 27 for Jonathan Troy, but didn’t publish nonfiction for 14 more years.

    Hemingway’s short stories started getting published when he was 24.

    Faulkner was 29.

    James Baldwin was also 29. His first published work was Go Tell It on the Mountain.

    Alice Walker was 26 for The Third Life of Grange Copeland. The Color Purple was twelve years later.

    Toni Morrison was 39 when The Bluest Eye was published.

    Paul Bowles was 39 when The Sheltering Sky came out.

    Ralph Ellison was 38 for Invisible Man.

    Actually, let’s end with those.

  5. Refutation of…

    Refutation of…

  6. "Sheep do not own themselves, do not own their lives. They exist to be used, every last ounce of them, their flesh to be eaten, their bones to be crushed and fed to poultry. Nothing escapes, except perhaps the gall bladder, which no one will eat. Descartes should have thought of that. The soul, suspended in the dark, bitter gall, hiding."
    J. M. Coetzee - Disgrace. (via mgl86)
  7. englishmajormade:

    snagamat replied to your post: Top 5 books!
    Was going to ask the same, but I remembered it’s helpfully supplied right on your blog! I was also going to ask top 5 authors, but I assume it’s similar to this list ;-)

    Why yes it is :). Authors are difficult because I haven’t read very many multiple works by the same author, so it’s hard to say if someone’s my “favorite” when I’ve only read one of their books, you know? When I’m older I’ll be able to better answer that :). 

    I hear that! When I was in college, I got the opportunity to read a bunch of authors extensively. A bunch of the 300 level courses, I think. The best was a course on Rushdie, Coetzee, and Graham Greene. I continued reading Coetzee when it was done, and have read 10 of his books. I also did a private reading on Melville. I read six of his books, a collection of short stories, and a bunch of his poetry.

    Oh yeah, I also read over 25 Piers Anthony books when I was in high school, and 14 Orson Scott Car books.

  8. The Art of Evasion: Writing and the State in J.M. Coetzee’s Life & Times of Michael K:

    Nadine Gordimer’s early review dismissed the Kafka reference, saying that it most likely stands for a commonplace Afrikaans name like Koekemoer or Kotze—the latter, intriguingly, a variation on Coetzee (Gordimer 1998: 139). One aspect of this name has been hitherto uncommented upon. I would like to speculate that this is partly a textual game; that we might read the “K” as an orthographic sleight of hand, as “I<,” the conjoining of an ‘I’ and the “<” sign. That is, K is “less-than-I’, a continually receding subject. This understanding of K is in fact bolstered by reading him as a version of Kafka’s K, consigned to a kind of liminal, incomplete subjecthood, while he tries in vain to gain access to the Castle, where his indeterminate identity—interloper or guest?—will finally be validated. If K is a character who slips away from the forms in which he is represented, his very representation slyly encodes this slippage, indicating at the very least that the novel is partly about the problematics of representation and the production of the social being.

  9. The actual Coetzee quote as used in Borderless Beckett:

    There is no monopoly on the letter K; or to put it in another way, it is as much possible to center the universe on the town of Prince Albert in the Cape Province as Prague. Equally - and the moment in history has perhaps come at which this must be said - it is as much possible to center the universe on Prague as on Prince Albert. Being an out-of-work gardener in Africa in the late twentieth century is no less, but also no more, central a fate than being a clerk in Hapsburg Central Europe.

    - Yoshiki Tajiri

  10. Articulating Substance: on Silence and Namelessness in J.M. Coetzee’s Foe and Life & Times of Michael K:

    Gordimer feels the letter K refers to Kotze or Koekemoer, surnames that are common among coloured people from Cape Town (Merivale 1996: 165), instead of Jozef K. Also, Merivale quotes Coetzee himself in an interview, after being asked how he feels about this “Kafka Connection‟: “I don‟t believe that Kafka has an exclusive right to the letter K. (Morphet interview, Coetzee 1987, 457)” (Merivale 1996: 152). Subtly evading clear statements regarding his intentions as an author, Coetzee‟s humorous reply signifies the difficulty that would lie within a clear-cut connection between Michael K and Jozef K.

    - Marte Schallenberg

About me

Pursue understanding. Deconstruct systems in order to taste building blocks. Happiness waits else/everywhere. And the heart(h). Do spheres not pull at each other?
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