Disgrace - J.M. Coetzee

There are writers who give different view points, explain details and sometimes elaborately write about what each character is thinking - all this with the intention of making the reader understand the story, plot, the protagonist, everything. It is like taking a course not reading a book. It also, at some level makes the author look a little desperate. Philip Roth does that in "American Pastoral". Long winded sentences to describe the strife of an all American family in the 60s is not very appealing to me at two levels. I don't like long winded sentences and I really think strife in American families is created, it does not happen. Helplessness is not an American attribute, it is a second world/third world virtue.

Coetzee on the other hand writes a well crafted tale titled "Disgrace". The entire book is from the protagonists perspective. Only his thoughts, view points and philosophy is projected. As one reads the book, one understands the other characters only from the conversation that the protagonist has with them. Nothing is explained. One also feels the frustrations the protagonist feels because he cannot understand the people around him. The reader cannot too. In course of reading the book, the reader experiences only the protagonists world because that is the only "truth" that is projected. It is like living life without feedback. Uni-dimensional.

Coetzee's writing is crisp. I also like the fact that each of the character is only as articulate as one would expect them to be. Articulation limited by their social status, education, life view, experiences etc. Amitav Ghosh often does this mistake of making his characters talk 'out of character' - which is very disquieting.

A white woman is a victim of rape by three black men. Instead of de-victimizing herself with ample support from her dad, she digs a hole deeper than the one she is in and sits there. Coetzee lets the reader assume that at some level whites in South Africa who would like to lead a rural life find themselves victims at the hand of local blacks. Role reversal of sorts with changing times. I am still trying to come to terms with the woman's choice of having the rapist's baby, trying to accept an offer to become the third wife of a black laborer-turned-landowner for security(who is also one of the rapist's relative), above all refusing to leave her life there. I cannot understand that. I am sure that is not a collective expression of white sentiment in present day South Africa, but it is disturbing.

A wonderful book in all.