Having thought before that I may be getting into a rut with heavyweight white authors of advancing years I then chose to combat this by rading a novel by a heavyweight white author of advancing years. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose and all that. But then, when a book's as much of a call to arms of the intellect as this bad boy is, it's not such a bad rut to be in.
In it, the ageing author Elizabeth Costello, her best work long behind her, is pushed from pillar to post in a series of "lessons". Be it receiving prizes, being a writer in residence on a cruise ship or giving speeches which dwell on man's cruelty to animals when people were expecting something about literature, it's the story of someone who's race is almost, though not quite, run, trying to make sense of it all. As such, it's certainly a heavy read at times. Costello herself is disputative, contrary and, at times, self-defeating. But it's never not interesting. Coetzee draws on a lifetime's reading to marshal his arguments and the setup of Costello against her various fellow players always makes for a nervous, tense dynamic. If you were reading it as a traditional novel, you'd be willing her to make nice, make life easy for herself.
Or possibly you'd be enjoying the conflict, the old pro coming back for one more swing at an argument. But, in truth, it's difficult to see this as a novel as such, it's more Coetzee using Costello as a vehicle for arguments which he may or may not believe. As such, it seems more an academic exercise than a story, but it's always a compelling one. If you come to it expecting scenes, plot development, a twist, the traditional trappings of the novel (the future of which Elizabeth is pessimistic about in lesson two, where she finds herself the entertainment on a cruise ship giving talks about the future of the novel: a grimly comic setup which should send shivers down the spine of anyone who believes in the power of story-telling) then you'll be disappointed. But approach it prepared for an argument and you'll be rewarded.
With "lessons" devoted to the future of the novel, animal rights (in which Elizabeth jaw-droppingly equates the meat industry with the Holocaust, Coetzee's own view, or simply a way of saying the unsayable?), the nature of evil and the use of the humanities amongst others, there's plenty to try and get your brain around. If there's a main criticism (bar the structure, which doesn't bother me, but I can see getting right up some people's noses) it's that Coetzee, for all his undoubted intelligence, rarely sands the edges off. This is uncompromisingly ascetic prose, which is, in itself, quite thrilling for a while, but it's almost a relief when the penultimate chapter turn out to be, if not exactly whimsical, then at least not so harshly literal. A Kafka-drenched short fable about Costello, presumably dead, waiting to be judged, and being unable to be judged as all they ever ask her is what she believes; with her reply being that, as a novelist, she believes nothing herself, merely takes dictation, is "secretary to the invisible." Here it feels we're getting to the heart of the matter, but does this whip the rug out from under all the hard fought battles of the previous chapters?
Hard to say, because it's hard to say how much Costello is being used as a device for Coetzee himself. The previous existence of all these "lessons" as speeches he's given seems to presuppose that that's the case, but this is, ultimately, a work of fiction. Costello seems to be arguing above all for the primacy of the writer's right to not engage (aside from in the lesson about the nature of evil, where she condemns a writer for writing too accurately about horror and atrocity - implying that not to shy away is to embrace, a curious distinction when set against the defiantly disengaged Costello of the penultimate chapter) arguing, in fact, for the importance of telling stories.
In it, the ageing author Elizabeth Costello, her best work long behind her, is pushed from pillar to post in a series of "lessons". Be it receiving prizes, being a writer in residence on a cruise ship or giving speeches which dwell on man's cruelty to animals when people were expecting something about literature, it's the story of someone who's race is almost, though not quite, run, trying to make sense of it all. As such, it's certainly a heavy read at times. Costello herself is disputative, contrary and, at times, self-defeating. But it's never not interesting. Coetzee draws on a lifetime's reading to marshal his arguments and the setup of Costello against her various fellow players always makes for a nervous, tense dynamic. If you were reading it as a traditional novel, you'd be willing her to make nice, make life easy for herself.
Or possibly you'd be enjoying the conflict, the old pro coming back for one more swing at an argument. But, in truth, it's difficult to see this as a novel as such, it's more Coetzee using Costello as a vehicle for arguments which he may or may not believe. As such, it seems more an academic exercise than a story, but it's always a compelling one. If you come to it expecting scenes, plot development, a twist, the traditional trappings of the novel (the future of which Elizabeth is pessimistic about in lesson two, where she finds herself the entertainment on a cruise ship giving talks about the future of the novel: a grimly comic setup which should send shivers down the spine of anyone who believes in the power of story-telling) then you'll be disappointed. But approach it prepared for an argument and you'll be rewarded.
With "lessons" devoted to the future of the novel, animal rights (in which Elizabeth jaw-droppingly equates the meat industry with the Holocaust, Coetzee's own view, or simply a way of saying the unsayable?), the nature of evil and the use of the humanities amongst others, there's plenty to try and get your brain around. If there's a main criticism (bar the structure, which doesn't bother me, but I can see getting right up some people's noses) it's that Coetzee, for all his undoubted intelligence, rarely sands the edges off. This is uncompromisingly ascetic prose, which is, in itself, quite thrilling for a while, but it's almost a relief when the penultimate chapter turn out to be, if not exactly whimsical, then at least not so harshly literal. A Kafka-drenched short fable about Costello, presumably dead, waiting to be judged, and being unable to be judged as all they ever ask her is what she believes; with her reply being that, as a novelist, she believes nothing herself, merely takes dictation, is "secretary to the invisible." Here it feels we're getting to the heart of the matter, but does this whip the rug out from under all the hard fought battles of the previous chapters?
Hard to say, because it's hard to say how much Costello is being used as a device for Coetzee himself. The previous existence of all these "lessons" as speeches he's given seems to presuppose that that's the case, but this is, ultimately, a work of fiction. Costello seems to be arguing above all for the primacy of the writer's right to not engage (aside from in the lesson about the nature of evil, where she condemns a writer for writing too accurately about horror and atrocity - implying that not to shy away is to embrace, a curious distinction when set against the defiantly disengaged Costello of the penultimate chapter) arguing, in fact, for the importance of telling stories.
It's on my wish list!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely worth a read
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