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Jesus Trilogy #3
The Death of Jesus
After The Childhood of Jesus and The Schooldays of Jesus, the Nobel prize-winning author completes his haunting trilogy with a new masterwork, The Death of Jesus
In Estrella, David has grown to be a tall ten-year-old who is a natural at soccer, and loves kicking a ball around with his friends. His father Sim�n and Bol�var the dog usually watch while his mother In�s now works in a fashion boutique. David still asks many questions, challenging his parents, and any authority figure in his life. In dancing class at the Academy of Music he dances as he chooses. He refuses to do sums and will not read any books except Don Quixote.
One day Julio Fabricante, the director of a nearby orphanage, invites David and his friends to form a proper soccer team. David decides he will leave Sim�n and In�s to live with Julio, but before long he succumbs to a mysterious illness. In The Death of Jesus, J. M. Coetzee continues to explore the meaning of a world empty of memory but brimming with questions.
In Estrella, David has grown to be a tall ten-year-old who is a natural at soccer, and loves kicking a ball around with his friends. His father Sim�n and Bol�var the dog usually watch while his mother In�s now works in a fashion boutique. David still asks many questions, challenging his parents, and any authority figure in his life. In dancing class at the Academy of Music he dances as he chooses. He refuses to do sums and will not read any books except Don Quixote.
One day Julio Fabricante, the director of a nearby orphanage, invites David and his friends to form a proper soccer team. David decides he will leave Sim�n and In�s to live with Julio, but before long he succumbs to a mysterious illness. In The Death of Jesus, J. M. Coetzee continues to explore the meaning of a world empty of memory but brimming with questions.
197 pages, Hardcover
First published May 1, 2019
About the author
J.M. Coetzee
167 books4,906 followersJohn Maxwell Coetzee is an author and academic from South Africa. He became an Australian citizen in 2006 after relocating there in 2002. A novelist and literary critic as well as a translator, Coetzee has won the Booker Prize twice and was awarded the 2003 Nobel Prize in Literature.
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August 23, 2023
BYE BYE JESUS
In questo ultimo capitolo della trilogia dedicata a Gesù almeno nel titolo, David ha dieci anni.
Il narratore in terza si identifica con Simón, l’uomo che ha adottato il bambino anni prima insieme a Inés, con la quale ha fatto coppia proprio per le pratiche di adozione.
Adozione che però spesso viene chiamata tutoraggio, e io qui mi perdo perché sono due cose ben diverse.
Il tutto si svolge in un imprecisato paese di lingua spagnola che qualcuno ha voluto identificare con Cuba. Ma, come dicevo, Coetzee non chiarisce mai questo aspetto per cui potremmo essere in qualsiasi altro paese di lingua spagnola.
Loretta Lux: Hopper, 2005.
David studia danza ed è molto bravo, a dieci anni già più maestro che allievo. Il resto dell’istruzione credo avvenga in casa.
Il bambino è anche un bravo calciatore. Ed è proprio con il miraggio del calcio – squadra con allenatore, tornei, partite vere – che David viene attirato dal direttore del locale orfanotrofio. Al punto che David rifiuta i suoi genitori – adottivi o tutori che siano – si proclama orfano e si trasferisce a vivere nell’istituto. Io, al posto loro, ce l’avrei lasciato ben contento d’essermi liberato d’una simile piattola: dato che David risulta poco simpatico, alquanto fastidioso, e sostanzialmente viziato.
Ma poi, e non è certo uno spoiler, si ammala della cosiddetta sindrome di Saporta - viene ricoverato in ospedale, dove rimane per oltre metà del breve romanzo, per poi morire.
Ancora Loretta Lux, come le due che seguono.
Non era difficile percepire momenti allegorici nei primi magnifici romanzi di Coetzee, ed era un valore aggiunto.
Adesso che l’allegoria è sbattuta in faccia già dal titolo – questa trilogia ha sempre Gesù nel titolo e a lui e alla sua storia sembra strizzare l’occhio tutto il tempo– la cosa si fa disturbante, se non addirittura irritante.
È come se all’improvviso elementi caratteristici della scrittura di Coetzee, che l’hanno resa bella e speciale (ed acclamata: un Nobel e due Booker Prize, trascurando premi minori), si trasformino qui in aspetti deterrenti, fastidiosi, respingenti. Infatti, il mio gradimento di lettore è probabilmente inferiore alle tre stelle che ho indicato.
È come se a questo giro fosse lo stesso Coetzee a obbligarci a leggere in filigrana, a sapere che l’X di cui parla vuol in realtà dire Y: David ovviamente non è David, è Gesù; e Simón e Inés sono genitori adottivi, non quelli biologici, proprio come Giuseppe e Maria per Gesù…
Solo che poi, dato che Coetzee è birichino, gli piace giocare, e confondere il lettore – per il quale non è chiaro quanto affetto abbia (ma certo non debordante, no, direi proprio di no) – è anche chiaro che siamo (sono) dei fessacchiotti a credere davvero che David stia per Gesù, e Simón e Inés per Giuseppe e Maria…
L’essere in buona e nutrita compagnia – ho trovato articolate stroncature su varie ‘testate’ importanti – non mi ha affatto reso la lettura meno deludente. Per esempio, qui cito dal Guardian - che ha dedicato a questo romanzo due diverse recensioni critiche:
Questa conclusione senza cuore della saga allegorica di Coetzee sembra “uno scherzo elaborato dall’autore alle spese degli esegeti impegnati nel compito di traslare il suo lavoro”.
Oppure, questa volta credo dal Manifesto:
Ora sembra che tutti i piaceri lasciati al lettore di un romanzo di Coetzee siano piaceri della testa, non del cuore. La natura onirica della vita nella distopia senza nome in cui vive David rende difficile raggiungere un qualsiasi grado di coinvolgimento emotivo con i personaggi.
Sono dovuto arrivare al mio dodicesimo Coetzee per restare deluso: che il dodicesimo, come per gli apostoli, sia il romanzo del tradimento?
LL: Tobias, 2006.
In questo ultimo capitolo della trilogia dedicata a Gesù almeno nel titolo, David ha dieci anni.
Il narratore in terza si identifica con Simón, l’uomo che ha adottato il bambino anni prima insieme a Inés, con la quale ha fatto coppia proprio per le pratiche di adozione.
Adozione che però spesso viene chiamata tutoraggio, e io qui mi perdo perché sono due cose ben diverse.
Il tutto si svolge in un imprecisato paese di lingua spagnola che qualcuno ha voluto identificare con Cuba. Ma, come dicevo, Coetzee non chiarisce mai questo aspetto per cui potremmo essere in qualsiasi altro paese di lingua spagnola.
Loretta Lux: Hopper, 2005.
David studia danza ed è molto bravo, a dieci anni già più maestro che allievo. Il resto dell’istruzione credo avvenga in casa.
Il bambino è anche un bravo calciatore. Ed è proprio con il miraggio del calcio – squadra con allenatore, tornei, partite vere – che David viene attirato dal direttore del locale orfanotrofio. Al punto che David rifiuta i suoi genitori – adottivi o tutori che siano – si proclama orfano e si trasferisce a vivere nell’istituto. Io, al posto loro, ce l’avrei lasciato ben contento d’essermi liberato d’una simile piattola: dato che David risulta poco simpatico, alquanto fastidioso, e sostanzialmente viziato.
Ma poi, e non è certo uno spoiler, si ammala della cosiddetta sindrome di Saporta - viene ricoverato in ospedale, dove rimane per oltre metà del breve romanzo, per poi morire.
Ancora Loretta Lux, come le due che seguono.
Non era difficile percepire momenti allegorici nei primi magnifici romanzi di Coetzee, ed era un valore aggiunto.
Adesso che l’allegoria è sbattuta in faccia già dal titolo – questa trilogia ha sempre Gesù nel titolo e a lui e alla sua storia sembra strizzare l’occhio tutto il tempo– la cosa si fa disturbante, se non addirittura irritante.
È come se all’improvviso elementi caratteristici della scrittura di Coetzee, che l’hanno resa bella e speciale (ed acclamata: un Nobel e due Booker Prize, trascurando premi minori), si trasformino qui in aspetti deterrenti, fastidiosi, respingenti. Infatti, il mio gradimento di lettore è probabilmente inferiore alle tre stelle che ho indicato.
È come se a questo giro fosse lo stesso Coetzee a obbligarci a leggere in filigrana, a sapere che l’X di cui parla vuol in realtà dire Y: David ovviamente non è David, è Gesù; e Simón e Inés sono genitori adottivi, non quelli biologici, proprio come Giuseppe e Maria per Gesù…
Solo che poi, dato che Coetzee è birichino, gli piace giocare, e confondere il lettore – per il quale non è chiaro quanto affetto abbia (ma certo non debordante, no, direi proprio di no) – è anche chiaro che siamo (sono) dei fessacchiotti a credere davvero che David stia per Gesù, e Simón e Inés per Giuseppe e Maria…
L’essere in buona e nutrita compagnia – ho trovato articolate stroncature su varie ‘testate’ importanti – non mi ha affatto reso la lettura meno deludente. Per esempio, qui cito dal Guardian - che ha dedicato a questo romanzo due diverse recensioni critiche:
Questa conclusione senza cuore della saga allegorica di Coetzee sembra “uno scherzo elaborato dall’autore alle spese degli esegeti impegnati nel compito di traslare il suo lavoro”.
Oppure, questa volta credo dal Manifesto:
Ora sembra che tutti i piaceri lasciati al lettore di un romanzo di Coetzee siano piaceri della testa, non del cuore. La natura onirica della vita nella distopia senza nome in cui vive David rende difficile raggiungere un qualsiasi grado di coinvolgimento emotivo con i personaggi.
Sono dovuto arrivare al mio dodicesimo Coetzee per restare deluso: che il dodicesimo, come per gli apostoli, sia il romanzo del tradimento?
LL: Tobias, 2006.
August 5, 2021
„Toată lumea e convinsă că David a avut un mesaj pentru noi, dar nimeni nu știe care e mesajul ăsta” (p.216).
Cel mai coerent volum din trilogia lui J. M. Coetzee. Viața lui David se apropie de sfîrșit. Stă într-un spital - e vegheat de Ines, Simon și bizarul Dmitri, asasinul Anei Magdalena (vezi Anii de școală ai lui Isus!) - și e vizitat de prieteni. Medicii nu-i pot diagnostica boala. Le spune povești copiilor. Principalul personaj al poveștilor e, bineînțeles, Don Quijote.
Coetzee strecoară și în acest volum propoziții biblice, care au menirea de a-l deruta pe cititor și de a-l împinge să caute (zadarnic, cred) semnificații ascunse, alegorii, simboluri... Cînd e întrebat cine este, David răspunde serios: „Eu sînt cel ce sînt”. Dmitri afirmă: „El nu era de pe lumea aceasta” (p.221). Aș menționa și episodul „sicriului gol” (p.178). Mă gîndesc uneori că prozatorul sud-african a scris această trilogie tocmai pentru a putea insera în text citate din Biblie.
După moartea lui David, toată lumea crede că băiatul a lăsat un mesaj. Toți își bat capul, nimeni nu-l găsește. Tare mă tem că David nu a lăsat nici un mesaj, ci doar posibilitatea de a-l căuta. Avea dreptate cronicarul de la The Guardian: „Trilogia lui Coetzee e o ironie la adresa cititorilor”.
Sfatul meu e să nu căutați nici un mesaj, nu există. Citiți cartea fără acest gînd nociv...
March 8, 2021
"Por qué estoy aqui?"/”Why am I here?”
Again in this third and last part of the Jesus trilogy the question arises to what extent Coetzee with the character of David has made a reference to the Jesus of Christianity, and what the purpose of all this may be. Again, there are elements that point to a link, but others that contradict it. To be honest, I would rather leave the debate to rest and focus on what touched me in this third part, and what repelled me.
On the bright side there is - once again - that intriguing character of Simon, the "adoptive father" of young David. Coetzee has nicely extended the characteristics of this person: Simon remains the man who approaches everything in a rational way; he is the concerned parent who cannot but interfere with David's life course, though in the meantime he knows how limited his role is, because of the very idiosyncratic nature of David and because of the way he is constantly put in his place by others. I’m aware that my sympathy for Simon certainly has to do with own personal sensibilities in this department.
I also like how Coetzee manages to generate and maintain the mystery surrounding the life and death of David, without allowing an unambiguous conclusion. Many other reviewers have already mentioned it: David may be a failed Messiah, there’s no way we can say anything conclusive about that. But what we know for sure is that he has triggered something in many others, even though that seems highely unlikely. This possibly has to do with the religious link, but absolutely also with the power of stories that are told by and about others, and therefore also with the power of novels and art in general. Perhaps that is the strongest feeling that remains after this trilogy: the mysterious and the unreal that constantly pop up in the three parts and which puzzle you as a reader, continue to excite and challenge you, keep your mind ruminating over them. There are not many things in our world that are capable to do this, and it is therefore no small tour de force that Coetzee manages to generate that without obtrusive showiness.
At the same time, while reading this third part, I also had a feeling of disappointment: the story is a little less drawn-out and layered than in the previous parts, and afterwards you inevitably have this question on your lips, “is this it?” And while you ask that question, you also get the feeling that this not only revolves around the story of David, Simon and Inès, but around life itself. "Is this it?", or in the words of David, " Por qué estoy aqui?"/”why am I here?" How many of us don't ask ourselves this question at some point in our lives, especially at tipping points. Which brings me back to the fact that, despite that vague feeling of disappointment I had, once again Coetzee has managed to touch an emotional chord. Hats off!
Again in this third and last part of the Jesus trilogy the question arises to what extent Coetzee with the character of David has made a reference to the Jesus of Christianity, and what the purpose of all this may be. Again, there are elements that point to a link, but others that contradict it. To be honest, I would rather leave the debate to rest and focus on what touched me in this third part, and what repelled me.
On the bright side there is - once again - that intriguing character of Simon, the "adoptive father" of young David. Coetzee has nicely extended the characteristics of this person: Simon remains the man who approaches everything in a rational way; he is the concerned parent who cannot but interfere with David's life course, though in the meantime he knows how limited his role is, because of the very idiosyncratic nature of David and because of the way he is constantly put in his place by others. I’m aware that my sympathy for Simon certainly has to do with own personal sensibilities in this department.
I also like how Coetzee manages to generate and maintain the mystery surrounding the life and death of David, without allowing an unambiguous conclusion. Many other reviewers have already mentioned it: David may be a failed Messiah, there’s no way we can say anything conclusive about that. But what we know for sure is that he has triggered something in many others, even though that seems highely unlikely. This possibly has to do with the religious link, but absolutely also with the power of stories that are told by and about others, and therefore also with the power of novels and art in general. Perhaps that is the strongest feeling that remains after this trilogy: the mysterious and the unreal that constantly pop up in the three parts and which puzzle you as a reader, continue to excite and challenge you, keep your mind ruminating over them. There are not many things in our world that are capable to do this, and it is therefore no small tour de force that Coetzee manages to generate that without obtrusive showiness.
At the same time, while reading this third part, I also had a feeling of disappointment: the story is a little less drawn-out and layered than in the previous parts, and afterwards you inevitably have this question on your lips, “is this it?” And while you ask that question, you also get the feeling that this not only revolves around the story of David, Simon and Inès, but around life itself. "Is this it?", or in the words of David, " Por qué estoy aqui?"/”why am I here?" How many of us don't ask ourselves this question at some point in our lives, especially at tipping points. Which brings me back to the fact that, despite that vague feeling of disappointment I had, once again Coetzee has managed to touch an emotional chord. Hats off!
September 25, 2019
A crushingly sad, yet hugely triumphant finale to Coetzee's Jesus trilogy. I think it took me until about halfway through this third book to finally understand his grand project, and wow is it a deep, existential one. Of course, I may be wrong - taken together, the three books are remarkably enigmatic - but I think he is asking this:
Stripped of the things that we consider fundamental to personhood - a name, an identity, a home, family, friends, language, control over our minds and bodies, longevity, community, etc. - is there some intrinsic value in having lived?
I'm not entirely certain of his answer, but is clearly the profound fixation of somebody grappling with his own legacy as he reaches his later years. How might he be remembered? By who? And for what purpose? These are vexing questions for someone who, like Coetzee, has made a point of living a moral, activist life. That said, it might do well for anyone who dares wonder if their life was worthwhile to ask the same. Let's just hope that, as Coetzee might be obliquely suggesting, it's not some quixotic folly to suppose we've mattered at all.
Stripped of the things that we consider fundamental to personhood - a name, an identity, a home, family, friends, language, control over our minds and bodies, longevity, community, etc. - is there some intrinsic value in having lived?
I'm not entirely certain of his answer, but is clearly the profound fixation of somebody grappling with his own legacy as he reaches his later years. How might he be remembered? By who? And for what purpose? These are vexing questions for someone who, like Coetzee, has made a point of living a moral, activist life. That said, it might do well for anyone who dares wonder if their life was worthwhile to ask the same. Let's just hope that, as Coetzee might be obliquely suggesting, it's not some quixotic folly to suppose we've mattered at all.
December 4, 2020
I will tell about the boat that brought us here, and how you and I went looking for Inés and found her. I will tell how you went to school in Novilla, and how you were transferred to the school for delinquent children, and how you escaped and we all then came to Estrella. I will tell how you went to senor Arroyo’s academy and were the best of all dancers. I do not think I will say anything about Doctor Fabricante and his orphanage. He is best left out of the story.
I re-read this book on its publication back to back with re-reads of its two predecessors, the flawed experiment “Childhood of Jesus” and the execrable “Schooldays of Jesus”.
My lengthy review of the first and more despairing review of the second are here
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
This book starts three years after the second book – but otherwise unfortunately carries on just where that volume left off.
It opens with David playing a game of park football – when he, Inés and Simón’s are approached by Doctor Fabricante, the owner of a nearby Orphanage, asking David to assemble a team to play the orphanage team.
Things rapidly spiral out of Inés and Simón’s control. David’s 7-year old insistence on telling everyone they are not his parents, has by now changed into self-identification as a misunderstood orphan and he quickly agrees (against Inés and Simón’s wishes) to join the orphanage and become a ward of the owner, while effectively baselessly accusing Simón of some form of abuse.
Much of the rest of the book takes place in a hospital where David is taken after a mysterious illness, one which (hardly surprisingly given the book’s title) claims his life.
The Dostoevsky Wannabe from the second book makes an unwelcome (to Inés and Simón) reappearance - now as an enthusiastic follower of David rather than a passion-driven murderer.
The reader can add to the list of unwelcome reappearances: interpretive dance; cod mathematical philosophy; the “He, Simón” device (so effective when used by Hilary Mantel, only effective here if the author is setting out to annoy readers - albeit that would explain much that mystifies me about this trilogy); and the general character of David.
We also have the feeble Douglas Adams impression from the first book reappearing – as the number 42 takes on a sudden significance linking back to the reference there surely?
To this is added a new downside – at least for this reader.
I had always been wary of the “Jesus” in the title of the books – however any analogy seemed thankfully absent. However, in this book the analogies come thick and fast: David says “I am who I am”; and “it is not yet time”; at one stage he is spoken of as “David, in whom I am well pleased”; people speculate if he walked out of the room where his dead body lay; at one stage he tries to make a wolf-life dog and lamb lie down; later we have a sacrificed (for dog food) lamb; David has followers who talk about the revolutionary message he wanted to give; there are biblical references to Solomon and Samson among others.
Overall I found this trilogy extremely disappointing – the first book had its merits, the other two did not.
One can only wish the advice in the opening quote was taken except that the academy as well as the orphanage was best left out.
I cannot tell you how much I dislike these cheap paradoxes and mystifications
December 15, 2022
coetzee’nin üçlemesi bu yıl okuduğum en iyi romanlar arasında. kusursuz olduğu için değil risk alınarak yazıldığı için, coetzee romancılığın zirvesinden risk alarak kategori dışı-özgün bir roman dünyası yarattığı için.
üçlemenin karşıtlıklar üzerine kurulu sağlam bir temeli var. insanların geçmişlerinin silinmesiyle adım attığı roman dünyasında eksik olan sadece anılar değil. hayaller de yok, arzu yok, tutku yok, aşk yok. buna karşılık hırslardan arınmanın getirdiği bir huzur var, iyi niyetten gelen barış var bu dünyada. üçleme şeklen distopyadan ayrılıyor böylece. romanın kişilerine baktığımızda başka bir karşıtlık görüyoruz: geçmişi olmadan yaşamayı kabullenmiş yetişkinlerin karşısında direnen bir çocuk. fakat buradan da bildik bir isyan hikayesi çıkmıyor. tuhaf roman dünyasını lanetlemek de çocuğa ya da isyanına taraf olmak da mümkün değil.
baştan sona uyumsuzluğun ve çatışmanın seyrine tanıklık ediyoruz. ve çıkmazlara. dünya çocukta, çocuk dünyada, dünya ve çocuk bizde-okurda çıkmazlar yaratıyor. üçleme boyunca gündelik hayata dair sıradan diyaloglar bile çıkmazla sonuçlanıyor çoğunlukla. hayattaki, hayatımızdaki çıkmazlar gibi karşımızda duruyor roman. coetzee bu çıkmazların içinden kurtarmıyor hikayesini. aldığı risk burada. özellikle ilk romanda uçsuz bucaksızlığını gösterdiği dünyayı hikaye ilerledikçe daraltıyor. ikinci, özellikle üçüncü romanlarda neredeyse önemsizleştiriyor. kusursuz işleyebileceği potansiyelden, önemli olan bu değil der gibi vazgeçiyor. önemli olan ne? çözülmeyen hikaye nereye bağlanıyor? tartışmalı bir final var elbette, başlangıç olabilecek bir final. belki bu finalden bakıp bambaşka şeyler söylemek lazım. ama zor.
coetzee bu zor romanı olabilecek en kolay okunurlukta sunuyor. uçsuz bucaksız roman dünyasının kuruluşunu, tuhaf karakterlerinin şekillendirilmesini, tüm çatışmayı, çıkmazları, her şeyi diyalogların sırtına yükleyip rahatça taşıtabilmek gibi muazzam bir iş başarıyor. sadece bunun için bile okunabilir bu üçleme. coetzee’den başka bir yazar böyle bir şey yazabilir mi, hayır, hayır demek için okunabilir.
üçlemenin karşıtlıklar üzerine kurulu sağlam bir temeli var. insanların geçmişlerinin silinmesiyle adım attığı roman dünyasında eksik olan sadece anılar değil. hayaller de yok, arzu yok, tutku yok, aşk yok. buna karşılık hırslardan arınmanın getirdiği bir huzur var, iyi niyetten gelen barış var bu dünyada. üçleme şeklen distopyadan ayrılıyor böylece. romanın kişilerine baktığımızda başka bir karşıtlık görüyoruz: geçmişi olmadan yaşamayı kabullenmiş yetişkinlerin karşısında direnen bir çocuk. fakat buradan da bildik bir isyan hikayesi çıkmıyor. tuhaf roman dünyasını lanetlemek de çocuğa ya da isyanına taraf olmak da mümkün değil.
baştan sona uyumsuzluğun ve çatışmanın seyrine tanıklık ediyoruz. ve çıkmazlara. dünya çocukta, çocuk dünyada, dünya ve çocuk bizde-okurda çıkmazlar yaratıyor. üçleme boyunca gündelik hayata dair sıradan diyaloglar bile çıkmazla sonuçlanıyor çoğunlukla. hayattaki, hayatımızdaki çıkmazlar gibi karşımızda duruyor roman. coetzee bu çıkmazların içinden kurtarmıyor hikayesini. aldığı risk burada. özellikle ilk romanda uçsuz bucaksızlığını gösterdiği dünyayı hikaye ilerledikçe daraltıyor. ikinci, özellikle üçüncü romanlarda neredeyse önemsizleştiriyor. kusursuz işleyebileceği potansiyelden, önemli olan bu değil der gibi vazgeçiyor. önemli olan ne? çözülmeyen hikaye nereye bağlanıyor? tartışmalı bir final var elbette, başlangıç olabilecek bir final. belki bu finalden bakıp bambaşka şeyler söylemek lazım. ama zor.
coetzee bu zor romanı olabilecek en kolay okunurlukta sunuyor. uçsuz bucaksız roman dünyasının kuruluşunu, tuhaf karakterlerinin şekillendirilmesini, tüm çatışmayı, çıkmazları, her şeyi diyalogların sırtına yükleyip rahatça taşıtabilmek gibi muazzam bir iş başarıyor. sadece bunun için bile okunabilir bu üçleme. coetzee’den başka bir yazar böyle bir şey yazabilir mi, hayır, hayır demek için okunabilir.
February 14, 2023
S-a încheiat trilogia, o îmbinare între distopie și lumea reală, atât de bine ticluită încât nu le poți delimita, mergi ca hipnotizat pe linia fină de demarcație, până când începi să te-ntrebi unde te afli. Răspunsul este: într-o carte scrisă minunat, care te face să reflectezi la prezent, la ce se-ntâmplă în jurul nostru.
Ultimul volum a fost zguduitor, plin de durerea dispariției lui David. Pentru mine, David (Isus) e un copil și-atât, poate mai talentat decât alții, mai voluntar, mai frumos, mai insolent, mai rebel, dar tot copil, tot minunat pentru părinții lui, care au inima zdrobită când îl pierd. Simon și Ines sunt extraordinari, pentru că, deși nu sunt părinți biologici, fac tot ce ar trebui să facă niște părinți, și un pic în plus. Fac tot ce pot și mai mult. Și m-am mirat pentru că nu simt efortul, ci doar fericirea că l-au avut și durerea că nu îl mai au. Magistrală carte.
Sfârșitul este trist pâna la sfâșietor, despre cartea pe care David a adorat-o (Don Quijote). Este neputința de a mai comunica vreodată cu el, dorul perpetuu:
"Nici un comentariu scris de mâna lui David. Păcat. Acum nu se va mai ști niciodată care era, după părerea lui David, mesajul cărții sau ce-și amintea cel mai bine din ea."
Ultimul volum a fost zguduitor, plin de durerea dispariției lui David. Pentru mine, David (Isus) e un copil și-atât, poate mai talentat decât alții, mai voluntar, mai frumos, mai insolent, mai rebel, dar tot copil, tot minunat pentru părinții lui, care au inima zdrobită când îl pierd. Simon și Ines sunt extraordinari, pentru că, deși nu sunt părinți biologici, fac tot ce ar trebui să facă niște părinți, și un pic în plus. Fac tot ce pot și mai mult. Și m-am mirat pentru că nu simt efortul, ci doar fericirea că l-au avut și durerea că nu îl mai au. Magistrală carte.
Sfârșitul este trist pâna la sfâșietor, despre cartea pe care David a adorat-o (Don Quijote). Este neputința de a mai comunica vreodată cu el, dorul perpetuu:
"Nici un comentariu scris de mâna lui David. Păcat. Acum nu se va mai ști niciodată care era, după părerea lui David, mesajul cărții sau ce-și amintea cel mai bine din ea."
September 20, 2021
In this trilogy Coetzee reaches his former heights, returns to the territory where he moves with ease - the territory between the lines. The books leave the reader wondering, some messages certainly make it through, yet what if there is another meaning, hidden, felt but not trapped, not nailed to the page by a catchy precise phrase?
The books of the trilogy are influenced by Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. The idea of Jesus coming at a different time and place is clearly borrowed from the main chapter of Dostoyevsky's sad masterpiece. If the analogy is not convincing enough for you, just look at the names of some key characters - obviously Alyosha and Dmitry are not mere coincidences.
Jesus as a child provides Coetzee with some interesting lines of conflict. Parents vs children, our social institutes vs parents and children, our education systems vs Don Quixote. The current set of values and requirements are no match for the gifted child. There is a price to pay as always there must be a price. Even if the memory of the entire land fails, what you don't remember does not allow you to ignore the bill.
The books of the trilogy are influenced by Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. The idea of Jesus coming at a different time and place is clearly borrowed from the main chapter of Dostoyevsky's sad masterpiece. If the analogy is not convincing enough for you, just look at the names of some key characters - obviously Alyosha and Dmitry are not mere coincidences.
Jesus as a child provides Coetzee with some interesting lines of conflict. Parents vs children, our social institutes vs parents and children, our education systems vs Don Quixote. The current set of values and requirements are no match for the gifted child. There is a price to pay as always there must be a price. Even if the memory of the entire land fails, what you don't remember does not allow you to ignore the bill.
August 29, 2024
Not ideal to have read (or rather returned to) this on the verge(s) of giving in to whatever it is that’s rather akin to a biblio rut and/or slump. Started skimming at around 80% — tempted to shelf it as DNF, but ultimately did otherwise. Didn't think the characters were 'interesting' enough, a bit 'flat' somehow. Even the existential element(s) in the narrative felt so forced and awkward (for the lack of a better word). But the writing is ‘good’, and I feel someone else would/could appreciate the plot so much more than I did. Anyway, it left me thinking that perhaps Coetzee is just not for me?
July 16, 2019
Coetzee me parece uno de los pocos autores capaces de, a pesar de haber ganado el Nobel, mantener una calidad narrativa excepcional.
Esta es la conclusión de una trilogía que avanza bajo el concepto de "no pienses en un oso blanco". Jesús es por supuesto el Oso Blanco. Porque a fin de cuentas Jesús no es más que un nombre propio que muchas personas llevan. Lo que hace Coetzee es jugar con el Jesús bíblico y hacernos creer que su relato, el de unos inmigrantes en situación irregular que malviven y prosperan en una tierra extraña, curiosamente en la que se habla español, es una especie de parábola sobre la vida de Jesucristo.
¿Lo es? Pues no lo es y sí lo es.
Pero es muchas cosas más, a parte de un Nuevo Testamento... o de cómo se crea un mito partiendo de hechos cotidianos.
Los diálogos entre los personajes, en los que recaen la mayor parte de la narración, son un ejemplo de dominio narrativo perfecto. La incomprensión, la incapacidad de comunicar lo que se quiere decir, la encadenación de preguntas para las que no hay respuesta coherente, conforman una especie de obra de teatro en los que cada alegato es IRRITANTE por lo insatisfactorio e inútil que resulta. Una concatenación de decisiones y opiniones equivocadas, pero lógicas en su contexto, llevan al desastre que Coetzee explicita en el título de la última novela.
De todas formas tendría que volver a leer las tres novelas para desarrollar más la idea que me ha provocado... ¿y no es ese el síntoma de la buena literatura, el deseo de relectura?
Esta es la conclusión de una trilogía que avanza bajo el concepto de "no pienses en un oso blanco". Jesús es por supuesto el Oso Blanco. Porque a fin de cuentas Jesús no es más que un nombre propio que muchas personas llevan. Lo que hace Coetzee es jugar con el Jesús bíblico y hacernos creer que su relato, el de unos inmigrantes en situación irregular que malviven y prosperan en una tierra extraña, curiosamente en la que se habla español, es una especie de parábola sobre la vida de Jesucristo.
¿Lo es? Pues no lo es y sí lo es.
Pero es muchas cosas más, a parte de un Nuevo Testamento... o de cómo se crea un mito partiendo de hechos cotidianos.
Los diálogos entre los personajes, en los que recaen la mayor parte de la narración, son un ejemplo de dominio narrativo perfecto. La incomprensión, la incapacidad de comunicar lo que se quiere decir, la encadenación de preguntas para las que no hay respuesta coherente, conforman una especie de obra de teatro en los que cada alegato es IRRITANTE por lo insatisfactorio e inútil que resulta. Una concatenación de decisiones y opiniones equivocadas, pero lógicas en su contexto, llevan al desastre que Coetzee explicita en el título de la última novela.
De todas formas tendría que volver a leer las tres novelas para desarrollar más la idea que me ha provocado... ¿y no es ese el síntoma de la buena literatura, el deseo de relectura?
June 10, 2021
No tengo claro si una estrella o dos. Lo que si se es que no me ha llegado.
No he leído la trilogía (solo este) y no se si esto puede afectar a perder el “mensaje” del libro pero me ha dejado como si me hablaran para no contarme nada o sin saber que querían contarme.
No he leído la trilogía (solo este) y no se si esto puede afectar a perder el “mensaje” del libro pero me ha dejado como si me hablaran para no contarme nada o sin saber que querían contarme.
September 20, 2020
Coetzee skaitau ir skaitysiu, kiek tik galėsiu, bet Jėzaus trilogija man kažkaip niekaip nelimpa. Po neįtikėtinos literatūrinės savižudybės ir smurto (ne tiesiogine prasme, o tokia... tekstine), kuriuo romane Summertime jis pabaigė savo "autobiografinę" trilogiją, visi Jėzaus reikalai atrodo truputį teziniai, truputį išskaičiuoti. Truputį per daug apie kitas knygas - Karamazovus, Don Kichotą. Coetzee rašo nuostabiai - tas tai niekur nedingo, bet įspūdingiausi man buvo tie jo romanai, kur jis rodo, kokie žiaurūs ir negailestingi gali būti tarpusavio santykiai (Age of Iron, Diary of a Bad Year, Slow Man). Čia jis žaidžia su klasika (bet tą juk jau seniai ir šiaip daug įspūdingiau darė su Defoe - mažam romanėlyje Foe), žaidžia su idėjom.
Galbūt visai šitai trilogijai reikia rimtesnės filosofinės, intertekstinės, religijotyrinės analizės ir tuose kontekstuose ji atsiskleistų kaip svarbi ir įspūdinga. Aš skaičiau tiesiog kaip Coetzee junkie'is ir mano kontekste ji liko iš tų, kurių nenorėčiau skaityt dar ir dar kartą, nors būtent taip - skaityt ir skaityt ir naujai atrast - man yra su daugeliu jo knygų.
Trilogijos siužetas toks: pas pagrindinį personažą imigrantą (kuriam imigracijos centre duodamas vardas Simonas ir užrašomas amžius 42, much symbolizzzmzzz) ateina ir apsigyvena vaikas, tada išsirenka sau motiną (su kuria Simonui labai sunku sutart), tada jie kaip šventa šeima keliasi iš vieno miestelio į kitą, visur nelaukiami. Antroj daly (The Schooldays of Jesus) Dovydas, tas vaikas, pradeda lankyti šokio akademiją ir ima šokti skaičius - tas buvo įspūdinga ir gražu. Trečioj daly - "Jėzaus mirty" - jis nusprendžia, kad yra našlaitis, įsirašo į vaikų namus, ten kažkokiu būdu "pasigauna" neuropatiją ir miršta.
Knygoj vis dėlto daug kuciškų momentų: kai tėvai negali suprasti vaiko, kai jis iš kažkokios pusiau sąmoningos būtybės staiga jiems prieš akis virsta kažkuo nepažiniu, nesuvokiamu, ir jie gali tik bandyti prisitaikyti prie jo, priimti jo kiekvieną pasirinkimą ir judesį. Tai skausminga - ir taip ir parašyta. Bejėgiškumas ir kontrolės neturėjimas irgi labai skausminga ir beviltiška. Kai tu turi "dalintis" vaiką (kuris kaip ir turėtų būti tavo, ane) su kitom figūrom - atsitiktinai sutiktais pažįstamais, kažkodėl tam vaikui užimponavusiais. Kai turi dylinti su vaiko mirtim ir tuo, kad jis ir suvokia, jog mirs, ir nesuvokia, kodėl taip reikia. Turbūt nebūtinai turi būt praradęs vaiką, kad surezonuotų (aš nesu); Coetzee kaip visada yra iki kaulų smegenų alegoriškas ir bet kokia susidūrimo situacija pas jį išsiverčia į platesnius dalykus, dažniausiai susijusius su tuo, kaip kiekvienam žingsnyje tu prarandi kontrolę, jei ją išvis turėjai, ir priklausai nuo kitų geros valios, kuri dažniausiai nebūna gera.
Aišku, Jėzaus paralelė irgi čia yra - man ji buvo apie evangelijos literalizavimą, perkėlimą į kasdienį kontekstą. Evangelijose ir šiaipgi įsivaizduojam, kad Marija buvo gana ištverminga motina: mažametis Jėzus sugalvoja, kad 3 dienas sėdės bažnyčioj, pabėga ir sėdi, šiaip blaškosi, nuolat kalba visokius išmintingus dalykus, kurių ji pati nesupranta, ir ji kažkaip su tuo susitvarko, priima, išgyvena. O Juozapas? Tas išvis ne prie ko, tai jam 0 dėmesio. Coetzee tą susidūrimą su radikaliu kitoniškumu perkelia ten, kur nesaugo joks šventraščio kodas (kad evangelijoj vyksta keistenybės, mums kaip ir nekelia klausimų), ir rodo jo šiurpumą. Ir tai, kad pats žmonių santykis visada ar bent dažnai būna visiškai nepažinus. Aišku, čia pritinka ir dostojevskinis žudikas Dmitrijus, pasirodęs jau 2oj trilogijos daly, ir Don Kichotas, kuris irgi buvo "ne iš šio pasaulio"...
... ir vis tik knyga taip ir lieka teze, literatūriniu ėjimu, metaforos išardymu ar kaip dar tai pavadinti. Nu kas iš viso to? Kad visi jėzai/jėzūs turi numirti? Prasidėjus trilogijai dar galvojau, kad čia Coetzee užgriebs pabėgėlių ir migrantų temą, nes visa "šventa šeima", išskyrus motiną, - be aiškios tapatybės, tokie sąlyginiai. Bet ne. Apie pabėgėlius nuostabiai parašė Ali Smith Autumn ir, visų labiausiai, Spring. O Coetzee pasirinko literatūrinius žaidimus. Aš jį vis tiek myliu. Bet, bent už šitą knygą/trilogiją, nebe nepažiniai, nebe sunkiai ar slogiai. To tai žiauriai (sunkiai, slegiančiai) pasiilgsiu.
Galbūt visai šitai trilogijai reikia rimtesnės filosofinės, intertekstinės, religijotyrinės analizės ir tuose kontekstuose ji atsiskleistų kaip svarbi ir įspūdinga. Aš skaičiau tiesiog kaip Coetzee junkie'is ir mano kontekste ji liko iš tų, kurių nenorėčiau skaityt dar ir dar kartą, nors būtent taip - skaityt ir skaityt ir naujai atrast - man yra su daugeliu jo knygų.
Trilogijos siužetas toks: pas pagrindinį personažą imigrantą (kuriam imigracijos centre duodamas vardas Simonas ir užrašomas amžius 42, much symbolizzzmzzz) ateina ir apsigyvena vaikas, tada išsirenka sau motiną (su kuria Simonui labai sunku sutart), tada jie kaip šventa šeima keliasi iš vieno miestelio į kitą, visur nelaukiami. Antroj daly (The Schooldays of Jesus) Dovydas, tas vaikas, pradeda lankyti šokio akademiją ir ima šokti skaičius - tas buvo įspūdinga ir gražu. Trečioj daly - "Jėzaus mirty" - jis nusprendžia, kad yra našlaitis, įsirašo į vaikų namus, ten kažkokiu būdu "pasigauna" neuropatiją ir miršta.
Knygoj vis dėlto daug kuciškų momentų: kai tėvai negali suprasti vaiko, kai jis iš kažkokios pusiau sąmoningos būtybės staiga jiems prieš akis virsta kažkuo nepažiniu, nesuvokiamu, ir jie gali tik bandyti prisitaikyti prie jo, priimti jo kiekvieną pasirinkimą ir judesį. Tai skausminga - ir taip ir parašyta. Bejėgiškumas ir kontrolės neturėjimas irgi labai skausminga ir beviltiška. Kai tu turi "dalintis" vaiką (kuris kaip ir turėtų būti tavo, ane) su kitom figūrom - atsitiktinai sutiktais pažįstamais, kažkodėl tam vaikui užimponavusiais. Kai turi dylinti su vaiko mirtim ir tuo, kad jis ir suvokia, jog mirs, ir nesuvokia, kodėl taip reikia. Turbūt nebūtinai turi būt praradęs vaiką, kad surezonuotų (aš nesu); Coetzee kaip visada yra iki kaulų smegenų alegoriškas ir bet kokia susidūrimo situacija pas jį išsiverčia į platesnius dalykus, dažniausiai susijusius su tuo, kaip kiekvienam žingsnyje tu prarandi kontrolę, jei ją išvis turėjai, ir priklausai nuo kitų geros valios, kuri dažniausiai nebūna gera.
Aišku, Jėzaus paralelė irgi čia yra - man ji buvo apie evangelijos literalizavimą, perkėlimą į kasdienį kontekstą. Evangelijose ir šiaipgi įsivaizduojam, kad Marija buvo gana ištverminga motina: mažametis Jėzus sugalvoja, kad 3 dienas sėdės bažnyčioj, pabėga ir sėdi, šiaip blaškosi, nuolat kalba visokius išmintingus dalykus, kurių ji pati nesupranta, ir ji kažkaip su tuo susitvarko, priima, išgyvena. O Juozapas? Tas išvis ne prie ko, tai jam 0 dėmesio. Coetzee tą susidūrimą su radikaliu kitoniškumu perkelia ten, kur nesaugo joks šventraščio kodas (kad evangelijoj vyksta keistenybės, mums kaip ir nekelia klausimų), ir rodo jo šiurpumą. Ir tai, kad pats žmonių santykis visada ar bent dažnai būna visiškai nepažinus. Aišku, čia pritinka ir dostojevskinis žudikas Dmitrijus, pasirodęs jau 2oj trilogijos daly, ir Don Kichotas, kuris irgi buvo "ne iš šio pasaulio"...
... ir vis tik knyga taip ir lieka teze, literatūriniu ėjimu, metaforos išardymu ar kaip dar tai pavadinti. Nu kas iš viso to? Kad visi jėzai/jėzūs turi numirti? Prasidėjus trilogijai dar galvojau, kad čia Coetzee užgriebs pabėgėlių ir migrantų temą, nes visa "šventa šeima", išskyrus motiną, - be aiškios tapatybės, tokie sąlyginiai. Bet ne. Apie pabėgėlius nuostabiai parašė Ali Smith Autumn ir, visų labiausiai, Spring. O Coetzee pasirinko literatūrinius žaidimus. Aš jį vis tiek myliu. Bet, bent už šitą knygą/trilogiją, nebe nepažiniai, nebe sunkiai ar slogiai. To tai žiauriai (sunkiai, slegiančiai) pasiilgsiu.
July 15, 2020
“Allora, com’è morire? Per come la vedo io, è stare sdraiati a guardare il cielo azzurro e avere sempre più sonno. Poi ti cala addosso una grande pace. Chiudi gli occhi e basta. Quando ti svegli, sei una barca che fila sfiorando l’oceano, con il vento in faccia e il grido dei gabbiani in cielo. Chiudi gli occhi e basta. Tutto ti sembra fresco e nuovo. È come se fossi rinato in quel momento. Non ricordi niente del passato, niente della morte. Il mondo è nuovo, tu sei nuovo, c’è una forza nuova nelle tue membra. Ecco com’è.”
“ Quello che vogliamo, quello che tutti noi vogliamo, è la parola che ci illumini e apra le porte della nostra prigione riportandoci alla vita. E quando dico prigione non intendo solo l’ala chiusa, intendo il mondo, tutto il vasto mondo. Perché questo è il mondo, da una certa prospettiva: una prigione in cui ti deteriori, diventi gobbo e incontinente e alla fine muori e poi (se credi a certe storie alle quali io non credo) ti svegli su una sponda sconosciuta dove ti tocca ricominciare da capo con la stessa tirerera.”
La narrativa di Coetzee è magnetica anche quando si riduce all’essenziale e racconta qualcosa che rimane misterioso, acquattato all’ombra della limpida scrittura.
Il significato della cosiddetta trilogia su Gesù non (mi) è dato capire. E va bene così.
“ Quello che vogliamo, quello che tutti noi vogliamo, è la parola che ci illumini e apra le porte della nostra prigione riportandoci alla vita. E quando dico prigione non intendo solo l’ala chiusa, intendo il mondo, tutto il vasto mondo. Perché questo è il mondo, da una certa prospettiva: una prigione in cui ti deteriori, diventi gobbo e incontinente e alla fine muori e poi (se credi a certe storie alle quali io non credo) ti svegli su una sponda sconosciuta dove ti tocca ricominciare da capo con la stessa tirerera.”
La narrativa di Coetzee è magnetica anche quando si riduce all’essenziale e racconta qualcosa che rimane misterioso, acquattato all’ombra della limpida scrittura.
Il significato della cosiddetta trilogia su Gesù non (mi) è dato capire. E va bene così.
January 20, 2020
I think I need to reread Childhood and Schooldays.
January 7, 2020
Well, that was unexpected. Who expected Jesus to die just after Childhood and Schooldays? It's hard not to assume that Coetzee is grappling with his advanced age and the concept of death with his recent books - Late Essays, and now The Death of Jesus. Some analyses of this book posit that Coetzee is evaluating his whole oeuvre through these books, while others allege that these books are about the meaning of life when you're stripped of everything that defines you.
The effectiveness or literary merit of the Jesus books can be put to question, but they are most successful in one aspect - evading classification and definite analysis. I felt like Coetzee was making a joke at the reader's expense, throwing some random abstract material at the crowd only to have fun at the interpretations concocted by the fawning fans who are ready to over-analyze any story by Coetzee, coat it with meanings and hallucinate a storm of allegories out of it. This sentiment, I was surprised to find mirrored in an astute review that has triggered some outrage among the Coetzee fans in the Comments section. I agree with most of the points put forth in the review, while still giving Coetzee the benefit of doubt. If he could write a piece about his intentions with this trilogy, that would be awfully enlightening. I'm a big fan of his literary essays (his analysis of A.S.Byatt's quartet is astoundingly insightful), and I seriously believe he should just write a collection analyzing his own works. He has got a lot of explaining to do.
This trilogy (as everyone is calling it, assuming it's over; Jesus can still be resurrected no?) began very well, as un-Coetzeean as possible : pleasant, readable, intriguing; and then Coetzee began to solidify his presence in the pages, a vague mist of his authorship slowly intensifying into a dark cloud with each chapter. As it progressed, it got more oblique and elusive and pointlessly philosophical. The pervasive emptiness in the narrative lost all its charm, and the sparse prose grew hoarse.
David, who was performing the dance of numbers in the previous part - numbers that shouldn't be added or subtracted because they're divine and exist in a sublime plane - takes up football briefly before succumbing to a mysterious illness and being hospitalized. An endearing kid in the first part, he has become annoying and every sentence he utters brings in a new wave of vexation. I would have loved for someone to dispel his illusions of grandeur, but - alas! - nobody is less than sycophantic to him. So the entire book is made up of baffling philosophical exchanges between the characters, most of which don't make sense. When they are not engaged in debates about the nature of numbers or astral projections or the meaning of life, they fuss over David's higher purpose and his "message" that he is disinclined to deliver.
It's an unsatisfactory, perplexing, premature end to the intriguing series. Perhaps, we should find solace in the fact that the series came to an abrupt halt instead of continuing in a similar vein, determined to confound.
Some excerpts from the book:
"What kind of world would it be if we all submitted to the rule of reason? ... A dull, dull world indeed. Simon would like to say: Dull perhaps, yet better than a world ruled by passion."
Hidden message from Coetzee to the frustrated readers:
"Something has occurred, Simon, something that is not nothing. When you feel bitterness rising in you, remember that."
A conversation between two readers, overheard:
" What on earth did he mean: bring the pillars crashing down? 'No idea, you know how David was. He would never tell you his meaning directly. Always left it to you to puzzle things out.' "
Here's another:
"On the last night I spent with him he spoke on and on about his message- spoke about it without actually saying what it was."
You still want to know The Message?
"The messenger was the message: a blinding thought, don't you agree?"
Even Coetzee seems to give up at the end:
"Now it will never be known what, in David's eyes, the message of the book was, or what most of all he remembered from it."
The effectiveness or literary merit of the Jesus books can be put to question, but they are most successful in one aspect - evading classification and definite analysis. I felt like Coetzee was making a joke at the reader's expense, throwing some random abstract material at the crowd only to have fun at the interpretations concocted by the fawning fans who are ready to over-analyze any story by Coetzee, coat it with meanings and hallucinate a storm of allegories out of it. This sentiment, I was surprised to find mirrored in an astute review that has triggered some outrage among the Coetzee fans in the Comments section. I agree with most of the points put forth in the review, while still giving Coetzee the benefit of doubt. If he could write a piece about his intentions with this trilogy, that would be awfully enlightening. I'm a big fan of his literary essays (his analysis of A.S.Byatt's quartet is astoundingly insightful), and I seriously believe he should just write a collection analyzing his own works. He has got a lot of explaining to do.
This trilogy (as everyone is calling it, assuming it's over; Jesus can still be resurrected no?) began very well, as un-Coetzeean as possible : pleasant, readable, intriguing; and then Coetzee began to solidify his presence in the pages, a vague mist of his authorship slowly intensifying into a dark cloud with each chapter. As it progressed, it got more oblique and elusive and pointlessly philosophical. The pervasive emptiness in the narrative lost all its charm, and the sparse prose grew hoarse.
David, who was performing the dance of numbers in the previous part - numbers that shouldn't be added or subtracted because they're divine and exist in a sublime plane - takes up football briefly before succumbing to a mysterious illness and being hospitalized. An endearing kid in the first part, he has become annoying and every sentence he utters brings in a new wave of vexation. I would have loved for someone to dispel his illusions of grandeur, but - alas! - nobody is less than sycophantic to him. So the entire book is made up of baffling philosophical exchanges between the characters, most of which don't make sense. When they are not engaged in debates about the nature of numbers or astral projections or the meaning of life, they fuss over David's higher purpose and his "message" that he is disinclined to deliver.
It's an unsatisfactory, perplexing, premature end to the intriguing series. Perhaps, we should find solace in the fact that the series came to an abrupt halt instead of continuing in a similar vein, determined to confound.
Some excerpts from the book:
"What kind of world would it be if we all submitted to the rule of reason? ... A dull, dull world indeed. Simon would like to say: Dull perhaps, yet better than a world ruled by passion."
Hidden message from Coetzee to the frustrated readers:
"Something has occurred, Simon, something that is not nothing. When you feel bitterness rising in you, remember that."
A conversation between two readers, overheard:
" What on earth did he mean: bring the pillars crashing down? 'No idea, you know how David was. He would never tell you his meaning directly. Always left it to you to puzzle things out.' "
Here's another:
"On the last night I spent with him he spoke on and on about his message- spoke about it without actually saying what it was."
You still want to know The Message?
"The messenger was the message: a blinding thought, don't you agree?"
Even Coetzee seems to give up at the end:
"Now it will never be known what, in David's eyes, the message of the book was, or what most of all he remembered from it."
October 5, 2022
İsa üçlemesinin son kitabı "İsa'nın Ölümü", üçlemelerde alışkın olduğumuz üzere olayları çözen, soruları cevaplayan, gizemi aydınlatan kitap değil. Hatta belki de üçlemenin en çok soru soran, en kafa karıştırıcı kitabı.
Soru şu mu acaba: "Neden buradayız?". Acaba diyorum çünkü 750 sayfalık okumanın sonunda elimde bir cevap olmadığı gibi, sorunun kendisini doğru anladığımdan bile emin değilim. Coetzee'nin acayip tarafı şu belki: içindeki alegorileri anlamadan bile keyif alabileceğiniz metinler yazıyor. Bu üçleme de yarattığı tuhaf, sisli, mistik dünyaya beni çekişiyle bana bir okuma hazzı verdi, ama büyük de bir tatminsizlik ve belirsizlik hissiyle bitirdim okumayı.
Neden buradayız diye soruyor David. Tanımlayıcılarımız elimizden alınırsa ne oluruz? Bildiğimiz ismimizi, yaşımızı, dilimizi, ülkemizi unutmamız söylenirse. Hatta kelimeleri, sayıları, harfleri unutmamız. Göstergelerden yoksun bırakılırsak ne için yaşarız? Hafıza kimliğimizin ne kadarını teşkil eder? Yeryüzünde olmamızın anlamı nedir? Her şeyin bir mesajı var mı? Kitabın içinde sürekli geçen Don Quixote'nin bir mesajı var mı? Peki bu kitabın bir mesajı var mı? Sorular bunlar mı, yoksa tamamen yanlış yerlerde mi geziyorum?
Hayatım boyunca hiçbir kitaba dair yazarken bu kadar zorlanmamıştım. Karakterleri rahatsız edici, diyalogları sahte, epistemolojik tiradları bağlamsız, analojilerini zorlama buldum. Ama... Ama gelin görün ki çok, çok sevdim bu üçlemeyi?
Epeydir kendimdeki bir hissi bu kadar anlamadığım, bu kadar temellendiremediğim olmamıştı. Sevilecek nesi olduğunu bulamıyorum. Ama ne hissettiğimi de gayet iyi biliyorum.
Belki de David'in sırrı da budur.
Soru şu mu acaba: "Neden buradayız?". Acaba diyorum çünkü 750 sayfalık okumanın sonunda elimde bir cevap olmadığı gibi, sorunun kendisini doğru anladığımdan bile emin değilim. Coetzee'nin acayip tarafı şu belki: içindeki alegorileri anlamadan bile keyif alabileceğiniz metinler yazıyor. Bu üçleme de yarattığı tuhaf, sisli, mistik dünyaya beni çekişiyle bana bir okuma hazzı verdi, ama büyük de bir tatminsizlik ve belirsizlik hissiyle bitirdim okumayı.
Neden buradayız diye soruyor David. Tanımlayıcılarımız elimizden alınırsa ne oluruz? Bildiğimiz ismimizi, yaşımızı, dilimizi, ülkemizi unutmamız söylenirse. Hatta kelimeleri, sayıları, harfleri unutmamız. Göstergelerden yoksun bırakılırsak ne için yaşarız? Hafıza kimliğimizin ne kadarını teşkil eder? Yeryüzünde olmamızın anlamı nedir? Her şeyin bir mesajı var mı? Kitabın içinde sürekli geçen Don Quixote'nin bir mesajı var mı? Peki bu kitabın bir mesajı var mı? Sorular bunlar mı, yoksa tamamen yanlış yerlerde mi geziyorum?
Hayatım boyunca hiçbir kitaba dair yazarken bu kadar zorlanmamıştım. Karakterleri rahatsız edici, diyalogları sahte, epistemolojik tiradları bağlamsız, analojilerini zorlama buldum. Ama... Ama gelin görün ki çok, çok sevdim bu üçlemeyi?
Epeydir kendimdeki bir hissi bu kadar anlamadığım, bu kadar temellendiremediğim olmamıştı. Sevilecek nesi olduğunu bulamıyorum. Ama ne hissettiğimi de gayet iyi biliyorum.
Belki de David'in sırrı da budur.
April 29, 2024
The Jesus trilogy seems far less a meditation on Christianity or religion as the title suggests, but rather an examination — in its own relentless and cyclical way — of literature itself. These books draw on a far ranging array of references from the Western tradition, from Don Quixote and Socrates to Dostoevsky and, of course, scripture. Coetzee asks us what literary language can do. How can it stand apart from philosophy and religion? What is true and real — in fiction, in particular, where everything is made up. And, finally, who am I and why am I here?
Here. Here is the fiery text that does not reveal.
Here. Here is the fiery text that does not reveal.
November 23, 2023
Gran final de la trilogía. Quizá la novela más claustrofóbica de las tres. Obligada lectura de un autor inigualable.
September 18, 2019
Es enormemente melancólico. Un cierre de trilogía que deja estupefacto e insatisfecho, pero eso es justo el mensaje. O parte del mensaje: que no lo hay y no tiene por qué haberlo. El universo no tiene por qué tener sentido o mensaje. El universo de David o de esta trilogía, tampoco.
November 24, 2019
Volgens de uitgever is "De dood van Jezus" de afsluiting van Coetzees allegorische driedelige parabel over leven en sterven van de raadselachtige David. Een mooie afsluiting, naar mijn smaak. Al hoop ik stiekem op nog een vierde deel, waarin Coetzee nog met een eigen versie komt van Jezus' opstanding, waarmee hij de rijke raadselachtigheid van de David- parabel nog verder vergroot.
In deel 1 kwam een raadselachtige jongen met een onbekende herkomst, die zijn naam en geschiedenis vergeten is, na een lange zeereis aan in een onbekend en bijna abstract land. Hij is vermoedelijk de Jezusfiguur uit de titel van de drie delen, maar weet dat niet: de naam "Jezus" komt in alle drie boeken volgens mij alleen in de titel voor. De jongen nam de naam "David" aan. Een van zijn mede- opvarenden, die evengoed zijn naam, geschiedenis en herkomst niet kent, nam de naam "Simon" aan en nam de vaderrol op zich. Hij is dan als het ware Josef geworden, maar weet dat niet. Inés, woonachtig in het abstracte land, neemt de rol van de moeder op zich en is dan als het ware - maar ook zonder dit te beseffen- als een soort Maria door een variant van de onbevlekte ontvangenis gezegend met een zoon. Drie ontheemde Bijbelfiguren, zo lijkt het wel, alle drie geheel onbekend met hun Bijbelse herkomst en zelfs met het Bijbelse woord en de Bijbelse waarheid, die aan het eind van deel 1 op de dool gaan naar onbekende bestemming. In deel 2 hebben ze die bestemming bereikt, maar worden de existentiële en filosofische vraagstukken die in deel 1 werden opgeroepen naar mijn gevoel alleen maar verder verdiept. En nu is er dan het afsluitende deel 3, waarin David - zoals de titel al suggereert- sterft, zoals ooit ook Jezus.
Maar hij sterft wel anders dan Jezus: niet door kruisiging maar aan een geheimzinnige ziekte, en niet als volwassene maar als in de knop gebroken tienjarige. En van enige wederopstanding is geen sprake, hoezeer er ook gefilosofeerd wordt over mogelijke volgende levens en mogelijke wedergeboorten. Zoals er in dit en de vorige delen ook al gezinspeeld werd op de mogelijkheid dat David al een wedergeborene is, die zijn vorige leven of levens niet meer kent. Hij wordt wel door allerlei personages als verlosser gezien, als brenger van een blijde boodschap uit hogere regionen. Maar zijn bron is niet de Bijbel, maar Cervantes' "Don Quichot", en allerlei prachtige en fantasierijke eigen varianten op de Don Quichot- verhalen. Die verhalen hebben een eigen literaire waarheid, en over die specifiek eigen waarheid van het literaire verhaal worden heel mooie dingen gezegd, maar het lijkt mij geen transcendente of absolute hogere waarheid, en dus geen absoluut antwoord op de aardse vragen. Bovendien, een van zijn fantasievolle Quichot- verhalen breekt David uitgeput af met de woorden "Alles is duisternis": het tegendeel dus van het licht der waarheid.
Significant is bovendien dat David zelf vaak gekweld de vraag stelt "Waarom ben ik hier?", met indringende deelvragen over het zijn, het ik (de eigen identiteit) en over wat "hier" eigenlijk betekent. Ook zegt David een paar keer zelfs "er is geen waarom". Op zijn vragen krijgt hij dan ook geen antwoord, behalve dan wellicht het besef dat er geen waarom IS. Iemand oppert zelfs dat het geen vragen zijn, maar een beroep, een smeekbede, waarop David van niemand antwoord krijgt. En Davids "boodschap" is wellicht niets meer dan: wees dapper, wees opgewekt, ook als je (zoals David zelf) met veel pijn sterft. Of een soort aan de taal ontstijgende boodschap die volgens David verborgen zit in de getallen en in muziek en dans. Maar die krijgt dan geen gearticuleerde vorm in het Woord. Terwijl Davids ziekte hem helemaal belette te dansen, zodat ook zijn zoektocht naar en articulatie van voor-talige waarheden in de knop werd gebroken. Kortom: misschien IS David niet de drager van De Boodschap, hoezeer daar ook door veel van de personages op wordt gehoopt. Tegelijk wordt echter naar mijn gevoel gesuggereerd dat David misschien wel degelijk in contact staat met hogere waarheden, en dat hij in zijn dans, in zijn Quichotteske verhalen en in diverse nogal paradoxale uitspraken op zijn minst fragmenten van een nieuw en minder beperkend soort denken laat zien. Of op zijn minst enig helder inzicht in de belemmeringen en beperkingen van ons alledaagse of logisch- rationele denken. Maar die fragmenten worden dan niet begrepen, en worden voor zijn dierbaren en volgelingen geen helder geheel.
Die niet- ingeloste belofte van een hogere boodschap heeft op veel van de personages minstens zo veel impact als Davids dood. Een van hen zegt het mooi: "Wat we willen, wat we allemaal willen, is het verlossende woord dat de deuren van onze gevangenis zal opengooien en ons weer tot leven zal brengen. En als ik gevangenis zeg bedoel ik niet alleen de gesloten afdeling, ik bedoel de wereld, de hele wijde wereld. Want dat is de wereld, vanuit een bepaald perspectief: een gevangenis waarin je aftakelt tot kromruggigheid en incontinentie en uiteindelijk de dood en dan (als je bepaalde verhalen gelooft, wat ik niet doe) wakker wordt op een vreemde oever waar de hele santenkraam weer van voren van aan begint. Het is niet brood waarnaar wij hongeren […] maar het woord, het vurige woord dat zal onthullen waarom we hier zijn". Aldus Dmitri, de gepassioneerde, Dostojevski- achtige waanzinnige moordenaar die we nog kennen uit deel 2. Ook belichaamt hij Dostojevki's vrij wanhopige gedachte dat de wereld zonder God een waanzinnige chaos wordt waarin alles is geoorloofd, en dat God dus MOET bestaan, want anders zijn we verloren. Dat hij dus vergeefs hongert naar het brood van Davids woord is nogal logisch. Maar ook een veel minder gepassioneerd personage zegt "Een wees zijn, op het diepste niveau, is alleen op de wereld zijn. Dus in zekere zin zijn we allemaal wezen, want we zijn allemaal, op het diepste niveau, alleen op de wereld". En de boodschap van David was, volgens sommige personages, gericht aan "de wezen van de wereld in het algemeen". Dat David sterft voordat hij een boodschap kan verwoorden, en bovendien zelf ook een wees is die geen antwoord heeft op de waarom- vragen, is dus niet alleen voor de gepassioneerde Dmitri een prangend probleem. Ook Simon ervaart een "gat dat zich in de textuur van zijn bestaan heeft ontwikkeld", en het is ontroerend hoe hij dat gat even wanhopig als vergeefs poogt te vullen.
Wie of wat David werkelijk was weten we aan het eind van deze trilogie nog steeds niet. Zoals we ook niet weten wie David het beste begreep: was dat de wellicht waanzinnige maar ook gepassioneerde en geïnspireerde Dmitri, was dat de misschien wat al te aardse en saaie maar wel oprechte (misschien zelfs wijze) Simon, was dat iemand anders, of heeft niemand ook maar iets van David begrepen? En Davids eigen heilige geloof in de Don Quichot: is dat kinderlijk, is dat Goddelijk, of allebei en geen van beide? Zo zit de roman vol met vragen zonder definitief antwoord, met naar mijn gevoel als meest prangende vraag "waarom zijn wij hier?". Met misschien als even prangende vraag: wat te doen met het ontbrekende antwoord op die waarom- vraag, en met het vermoeden dat er geen waarom is? Wat te doen met het gegeven dat we toch, soms tegen beter weten in, blijven verlangen naar dat antwoord? Minder gepassioneerd misschien dan Dmitri, maar toch? Al die personages die in David de nieuwe Messias zien of willen zien, zijn die diep naïef en verblind, of zijn ze diep menselijk, zelfs als ze ongelijk zouden hebben? En misschien eerlijker of geïnspireerder in hun steeds maar zoeken naar antwoorden dan de rationelere, meer sceptische Simon, die aan de andere kant vaak op mij wel wijzer en filosofischer overkomt? Is Simon zelf bovendien niet een soort vleesgeworden aarzeling, omdat hij aan de ene kant niet meegaat in Dmitri's geëxalteerde passie en Davids pre- logische gedachtegangen, terwijl hij zich aan de andere kant wel laat vervoeren door de pre-logische sferen van de dans en soms toch ook door Davids Quichotteske fantasie?
Het intrigerende van deze trilogie is misschien vooral hoe Coetzee dit soort vragen oproept, zonder er een troostrijk maar overhaast antwoord op te geven. En hoe hij dus laat zien dat we moeten leren leven met dilemma's en vraagtekens. Mooi vind ik in elk geval de gedachte dat we allemaal wezen zijn, die vergeefs zoeken naar een antwoord. Mooi vind ik ook hoe hij suggereert dat het ontbreken van dit antwoord ons nooit helemaal bevredigt. Maar even mooi vind ik uitspraken als: "Filosofie zegt ons wanneer er niets meer te zeggen valt. Filosofie zegt ons wanneer we stil moeten zitten met onze geest op oneindig en onze mond dicht. Geen vragen meer, geen antwoorden meer". Bij het lezen van dit boek had ik in elk geval het gevoel dat ik, voor even, stil kon zitten met mijn mond dicht. En dat was voor mij het mooiste van dit boek.
In deel 1 kwam een raadselachtige jongen met een onbekende herkomst, die zijn naam en geschiedenis vergeten is, na een lange zeereis aan in een onbekend en bijna abstract land. Hij is vermoedelijk de Jezusfiguur uit de titel van de drie delen, maar weet dat niet: de naam "Jezus" komt in alle drie boeken volgens mij alleen in de titel voor. De jongen nam de naam "David" aan. Een van zijn mede- opvarenden, die evengoed zijn naam, geschiedenis en herkomst niet kent, nam de naam "Simon" aan en nam de vaderrol op zich. Hij is dan als het ware Josef geworden, maar weet dat niet. Inés, woonachtig in het abstracte land, neemt de rol van de moeder op zich en is dan als het ware - maar ook zonder dit te beseffen- als een soort Maria door een variant van de onbevlekte ontvangenis gezegend met een zoon. Drie ontheemde Bijbelfiguren, zo lijkt het wel, alle drie geheel onbekend met hun Bijbelse herkomst en zelfs met het Bijbelse woord en de Bijbelse waarheid, die aan het eind van deel 1 op de dool gaan naar onbekende bestemming. In deel 2 hebben ze die bestemming bereikt, maar worden de existentiële en filosofische vraagstukken die in deel 1 werden opgeroepen naar mijn gevoel alleen maar verder verdiept. En nu is er dan het afsluitende deel 3, waarin David - zoals de titel al suggereert- sterft, zoals ooit ook Jezus.
Maar hij sterft wel anders dan Jezus: niet door kruisiging maar aan een geheimzinnige ziekte, en niet als volwassene maar als in de knop gebroken tienjarige. En van enige wederopstanding is geen sprake, hoezeer er ook gefilosofeerd wordt over mogelijke volgende levens en mogelijke wedergeboorten. Zoals er in dit en de vorige delen ook al gezinspeeld werd op de mogelijkheid dat David al een wedergeborene is, die zijn vorige leven of levens niet meer kent. Hij wordt wel door allerlei personages als verlosser gezien, als brenger van een blijde boodschap uit hogere regionen. Maar zijn bron is niet de Bijbel, maar Cervantes' "Don Quichot", en allerlei prachtige en fantasierijke eigen varianten op de Don Quichot- verhalen. Die verhalen hebben een eigen literaire waarheid, en over die specifiek eigen waarheid van het literaire verhaal worden heel mooie dingen gezegd, maar het lijkt mij geen transcendente of absolute hogere waarheid, en dus geen absoluut antwoord op de aardse vragen. Bovendien, een van zijn fantasievolle Quichot- verhalen breekt David uitgeput af met de woorden "Alles is duisternis": het tegendeel dus van het licht der waarheid.
Significant is bovendien dat David zelf vaak gekweld de vraag stelt "Waarom ben ik hier?", met indringende deelvragen over het zijn, het ik (de eigen identiteit) en over wat "hier" eigenlijk betekent. Ook zegt David een paar keer zelfs "er is geen waarom". Op zijn vragen krijgt hij dan ook geen antwoord, behalve dan wellicht het besef dat er geen waarom IS. Iemand oppert zelfs dat het geen vragen zijn, maar een beroep, een smeekbede, waarop David van niemand antwoord krijgt. En Davids "boodschap" is wellicht niets meer dan: wees dapper, wees opgewekt, ook als je (zoals David zelf) met veel pijn sterft. Of een soort aan de taal ontstijgende boodschap die volgens David verborgen zit in de getallen en in muziek en dans. Maar die krijgt dan geen gearticuleerde vorm in het Woord. Terwijl Davids ziekte hem helemaal belette te dansen, zodat ook zijn zoektocht naar en articulatie van voor-talige waarheden in de knop werd gebroken. Kortom: misschien IS David niet de drager van De Boodschap, hoezeer daar ook door veel van de personages op wordt gehoopt. Tegelijk wordt echter naar mijn gevoel gesuggereerd dat David misschien wel degelijk in contact staat met hogere waarheden, en dat hij in zijn dans, in zijn Quichotteske verhalen en in diverse nogal paradoxale uitspraken op zijn minst fragmenten van een nieuw en minder beperkend soort denken laat zien. Of op zijn minst enig helder inzicht in de belemmeringen en beperkingen van ons alledaagse of logisch- rationele denken. Maar die fragmenten worden dan niet begrepen, en worden voor zijn dierbaren en volgelingen geen helder geheel.
Die niet- ingeloste belofte van een hogere boodschap heeft op veel van de personages minstens zo veel impact als Davids dood. Een van hen zegt het mooi: "Wat we willen, wat we allemaal willen, is het verlossende woord dat de deuren van onze gevangenis zal opengooien en ons weer tot leven zal brengen. En als ik gevangenis zeg bedoel ik niet alleen de gesloten afdeling, ik bedoel de wereld, de hele wijde wereld. Want dat is de wereld, vanuit een bepaald perspectief: een gevangenis waarin je aftakelt tot kromruggigheid en incontinentie en uiteindelijk de dood en dan (als je bepaalde verhalen gelooft, wat ik niet doe) wakker wordt op een vreemde oever waar de hele santenkraam weer van voren van aan begint. Het is niet brood waarnaar wij hongeren […] maar het woord, het vurige woord dat zal onthullen waarom we hier zijn". Aldus Dmitri, de gepassioneerde, Dostojevski- achtige waanzinnige moordenaar die we nog kennen uit deel 2. Ook belichaamt hij Dostojevki's vrij wanhopige gedachte dat de wereld zonder God een waanzinnige chaos wordt waarin alles is geoorloofd, en dat God dus MOET bestaan, want anders zijn we verloren. Dat hij dus vergeefs hongert naar het brood van Davids woord is nogal logisch. Maar ook een veel minder gepassioneerd personage zegt "Een wees zijn, op het diepste niveau, is alleen op de wereld zijn. Dus in zekere zin zijn we allemaal wezen, want we zijn allemaal, op het diepste niveau, alleen op de wereld". En de boodschap van David was, volgens sommige personages, gericht aan "de wezen van de wereld in het algemeen". Dat David sterft voordat hij een boodschap kan verwoorden, en bovendien zelf ook een wees is die geen antwoord heeft op de waarom- vragen, is dus niet alleen voor de gepassioneerde Dmitri een prangend probleem. Ook Simon ervaart een "gat dat zich in de textuur van zijn bestaan heeft ontwikkeld", en het is ontroerend hoe hij dat gat even wanhopig als vergeefs poogt te vullen.
Wie of wat David werkelijk was weten we aan het eind van deze trilogie nog steeds niet. Zoals we ook niet weten wie David het beste begreep: was dat de wellicht waanzinnige maar ook gepassioneerde en geïnspireerde Dmitri, was dat de misschien wat al te aardse en saaie maar wel oprechte (misschien zelfs wijze) Simon, was dat iemand anders, of heeft niemand ook maar iets van David begrepen? En Davids eigen heilige geloof in de Don Quichot: is dat kinderlijk, is dat Goddelijk, of allebei en geen van beide? Zo zit de roman vol met vragen zonder definitief antwoord, met naar mijn gevoel als meest prangende vraag "waarom zijn wij hier?". Met misschien als even prangende vraag: wat te doen met het ontbrekende antwoord op die waarom- vraag, en met het vermoeden dat er geen waarom is? Wat te doen met het gegeven dat we toch, soms tegen beter weten in, blijven verlangen naar dat antwoord? Minder gepassioneerd misschien dan Dmitri, maar toch? Al die personages die in David de nieuwe Messias zien of willen zien, zijn die diep naïef en verblind, of zijn ze diep menselijk, zelfs als ze ongelijk zouden hebben? En misschien eerlijker of geïnspireerder in hun steeds maar zoeken naar antwoorden dan de rationelere, meer sceptische Simon, die aan de andere kant vaak op mij wel wijzer en filosofischer overkomt? Is Simon zelf bovendien niet een soort vleesgeworden aarzeling, omdat hij aan de ene kant niet meegaat in Dmitri's geëxalteerde passie en Davids pre- logische gedachtegangen, terwijl hij zich aan de andere kant wel laat vervoeren door de pre-logische sferen van de dans en soms toch ook door Davids Quichotteske fantasie?
Het intrigerende van deze trilogie is misschien vooral hoe Coetzee dit soort vragen oproept, zonder er een troostrijk maar overhaast antwoord op te geven. En hoe hij dus laat zien dat we moeten leren leven met dilemma's en vraagtekens. Mooi vind ik in elk geval de gedachte dat we allemaal wezen zijn, die vergeefs zoeken naar een antwoord. Mooi vind ik ook hoe hij suggereert dat het ontbreken van dit antwoord ons nooit helemaal bevredigt. Maar even mooi vind ik uitspraken als: "Filosofie zegt ons wanneer er niets meer te zeggen valt. Filosofie zegt ons wanneer we stil moeten zitten met onze geest op oneindig en onze mond dicht. Geen vragen meer, geen antwoorden meer". Bij het lezen van dit boek had ik in elk geval het gevoel dat ik, voor even, stil kon zitten met mijn mond dicht. En dat was voor mij het mooiste van dit boek.
July 4, 2021
Most of the predictions that I made about this novel were wrong. The Jesus allegory certainly continues, but the events that I imagined would play out, generally did not.
There was a lot more about football in this novel than I expected. Perhaps the football is even a continuation of the Jesus allegory. Davíd's interests move away from his introspective and mystical dancing, towards a team game - a game of movement and action. A bit of a stretch maybe, but I see a connection there.
Davíd certainly accumulates some followers in this book. Not least of all Dmitri, the strange and possibly evil man, who may or may not be reformed. The Jesus allegory is on full show in this exchange between Davíd and Simón.
‘Dmitri says the doctors don’t know what they are talking about.’
‘Dmitri knows nothing about medicine. He is just an orderly, a cleaner. Pay no attention to what he says.’
‘He says, if I die he will kill himself so that he can follow me. He says I am his king.’
In all though, this series remains enigmatic to me. I can trace a few threads through it, and occassionally had the feeling of it all coming together in my mind, but it never really did come together. I'm still slightly at a loss as to what I'm supposed to take away from it all. I've enjoyed the style and I've enjoyed the tone, but I'm still somewhat perplexed as to what it all strictly means. All my theories fall flat somewhere along the way. But perhaps 'enigmatic' was what Coetzee was going for all along. It's hard to tell.
There was a lot more about football in this novel than I expected. Perhaps the football is even a continuation of the Jesus allegory. Davíd's interests move away from his introspective and mystical dancing, towards a team game - a game of movement and action. A bit of a stretch maybe, but I see a connection there.
Davíd certainly accumulates some followers in this book. Not least of all Dmitri, the strange and possibly evil man, who may or may not be reformed. The Jesus allegory is on full show in this exchange between Davíd and Simón.
‘Dmitri says the doctors don’t know what they are talking about.’
‘Dmitri knows nothing about medicine. He is just an orderly, a cleaner. Pay no attention to what he says.’
‘He says, if I die he will kill himself so that he can follow me. He says I am his king.’
In all though, this series remains enigmatic to me. I can trace a few threads through it, and occassionally had the feeling of it all coming together in my mind, but it never really did come together. I'm still slightly at a loss as to what I'm supposed to take away from it all. I've enjoyed the style and I've enjoyed the tone, but I'm still somewhat perplexed as to what it all strictly means. All my theories fall flat somewhere along the way. But perhaps 'enigmatic' was what Coetzee was going for all along. It's hard to tell.
September 25, 2020
Rimando alle mie recensioni dei volumi precedenti:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Il piccolo David si ribella, gettando nell’angoscia i genitori. Il piccolo David se ne va di casa, perché desidera essere orfano. Il piccolo David, cocciuto tiranno e bambino ‘eccezionale’ non si sa perché, che ormai conosciamo bene senza per questo comprenderlo, si ammala e muore di un morbo sconosciuto. Si soffre, in questo terzo volume, sia per lo sperdimento dei genitori, aggravato dalle tante assurdità della vicenda che è sempre surreale come un incubo, sia per l’agonia ineluttabile del bambino, e ancora per il delirio del pazzo Dimitri, che tormenta il povero Simòn e getta il lettore nella confusione più totale. Ha lasciato un messaggio il bambino morente? O non era forse un bambino come tutti gli altri, e tutti i bambini sono David, bambino eccezionale? Coetzee solleva domande e non dà risposte, scrivono i critici. È vero, e possiamo affermare che anche le sue domande sono piuttosto strane. Ma è tale la forza suggestiva della sua scrittura e della misteriosa storia di David, che si resta ipnotizzati, e gli enigmi irrisolti non deludono. Bisogna leggerlo - leggere tutta l’intera trilogia, senza mettere troppo tempo fra un volume e l’altro - per farsi un’idea di questa meraviglia.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Il piccolo David si ribella, gettando nell’angoscia i genitori. Il piccolo David se ne va di casa, perché desidera essere orfano. Il piccolo David, cocciuto tiranno e bambino ‘eccezionale’ non si sa perché, che ormai conosciamo bene senza per questo comprenderlo, si ammala e muore di un morbo sconosciuto. Si soffre, in questo terzo volume, sia per lo sperdimento dei genitori, aggravato dalle tante assurdità della vicenda che è sempre surreale come un incubo, sia per l’agonia ineluttabile del bambino, e ancora per il delirio del pazzo Dimitri, che tormenta il povero Simòn e getta il lettore nella confusione più totale. Ha lasciato un messaggio il bambino morente? O non era forse un bambino come tutti gli altri, e tutti i bambini sono David, bambino eccezionale? Coetzee solleva domande e non dà risposte, scrivono i critici. È vero, e possiamo affermare che anche le sue domande sono piuttosto strane. Ma è tale la forza suggestiva della sua scrittura e della misteriosa storia di David, che si resta ipnotizzati, e gli enigmi irrisolti non deludono. Bisogna leggerlo - leggere tutta l’intera trilogia, senza mettere troppo tempo fra un volume e l’altro - per farsi un’idea di questa meraviglia.
December 18, 2020
⚫️ “-Žinai, ką aš ketinu daryti, Simonai? Prieš pat mirdamas užsirašysiu ant popierėlio viską, ką apie save žinau, sulankstysiu jį į smulkų gniužuliuką ir spausiu delne. O tada, kai pabusiu kitame gyvenime, galėsiu perskaityti popierėlį ir sužinoti, kas esu.
<...> Iš tiesų nuostabi mintis! Tik reikės pasistengti, kad ranka, kurioje laikysi popierėlį, nepatektų į vandenį, nes vanduo, atmink, nuplauna viską, tarp kita ko ir rašmenis.”
<...> Iš tiesų nuostabi mintis! Tik reikės pasistengti, kad ranka, kurioje laikysi popierėlį, nepatektų į vandenį, nes vanduo, atmink, nuplauna viską, tarp kita ko ir rašmenis.”
August 5, 2021
As I am at chapter 5, this is not a review. Nevertheless, I found dots in these beginning chapters that when connected some may find helpful. First, David is an exceptional dancer; second, David spontaneously sings lines -in a language he does not know-from Mahler's "Kindertottenleider": these two dots connect David with Tudor's ballet, "Dark Elegies." In addition to foreshadowing the promise of the book's title, it also acts as a "mise-en-abyme"- a play within a play. That is to say, that neither David nor Simon can tell if David's song is a memory of the past or the future. (Which ever direction one looks the story remains the same- a structure that resembles the plot line of Tudor's ballet.)
Jesus and Christ are different...
And, he, the Grendel, said, hear me now ween (alas, I am showing my age) upon 'senor' Coetzee's canticluation of his late David's early end. While free of any character named Jesus, Coetzee's chant like novel, "The Death of Jesus", tickled my imagination with biblical allusions both gross and obscure; obscure because I suspect that I failed to note many of the biblical hints that shaped his novel. Nevertheless, it was the novel's Monty Python-like humor that tickled me so; it brought to mind their film, "The Life of Brian", for example. So, on what features of this novel plea my case for its humorousness? He, the Grendel, says, start with character names: Frabicante, Prudencia, Inez, Simon, Ana Magdalena, David, Dmitry, Alyosha, Jeremiah and Bolivar. It is an ancient costume of fiction writing (such as in parables or jokes) to name characters with words that label or point to the role each plays. And as I think of it, this use of words as labels fits well into the "tabula rasa" or the "blank slate" -like state that describes the cognitive status of every citizen that arrives in Noville and Estrella. That is to say that in the world of Coetzee's Jesus trilogy all the humans that populate that world (and all there are refugees) enter it with neither memory nor knowledge of any kind. But, the Government (to the rescue?) labels each with a name and age, provides them with a language (here, Spanish) and some sort of skill. (Note that Dr Frabicante's school /orphanage focuses on skills rather than 'texts'.) So, the denizens of this Trilogy's world learn a language and a skill via an educational experience that resembles a grand game of "Simon says". (Note, the recurring motif that calls out David's mentor, "He, Simon says" or "said" followed by a verb -a command, say. As for me, this "tabula rasa" like situation along with its "ostensive definition" method of teaching brings to mind the concept of language and learning that Wittgenstein criticizes at the beginning of his "Philosophical Investigations". Please, recall, that I personally study with Wittgenstein.)
And, what are readers to make of the figure, "he, Simon..."? Does this rather quirky gesture merely ornament the fabric of " The Death of Jesus" or is it, perhaps, a strong punctuation; an sudden, unexpected overhead sweep of a chore of dancers' arms, a simple gesture that nevertheless contrasts powerfully to the their otherwise grounded movement across the stage. When considered in this way, the "he, Simon," gesture connects Coetzee's novel to Tudor's ballet "Dark Elegies", a work that also deals with the death of children and proliferates with such powerful gestures. Yet, in spite of the novels' binding sorrow it also offers moments of (jarring) giddiness.
What, for example, are readers to make of a 10 year old boy who in the midst of a miserable death asks Simon, his mentor, if in the next life that he might... well, you know...get laid? Now, if Simon could have recalled the better parts of his erased life, he might have replied a la "Hamlet", But,..."in that sleep of death what erections may come when you have shuffled off this mortal coil?" So, is this exchange Coetzee's Monty Python-style of punning on Christ's Passion? Additionally, one finds it ironic (no, funny) that in "The Death of Jesus" notions such as atonement, redemption, forgiveness, miracle worker and so forth that typically, for Christians, inform discussions on the mission of Jesus never occur. Dmtry, for example, a devoted attended on David, follows David to find "rescue" from life rather than redemption from sin (although he does ask David for forgiveness for the murder he committed). Moreover, David's enchantment with (a young reader's version of) "Don Quixote" and his inspirational stories based on "Don Quixote" find greater resonances with pagan Greek sources (e. g. Plato's "Phaedrus") rather than Abrahamic ones. So, Coetzee's title, "The Death of Jesus" works to lure the unwary into (those that might assume that the name Jesus is identical with Christ) using only "Christian Parable" as a critical grid. Recall that Coetzee's Jesus Trilogy plots itself in a Spanish speaking world where the name Jesus (or in vulgar pagan parlance, Hay, Zeus) is common.
One last comment or next to last, I could not but laugh given the important role of numerology in the novel at Simon's meditation on 42- Yes, think of Douglas Adams and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". And, the last comment: I recommend that readers visit Antony Tudor's "Dark Elegies" and there to see how well embedded in "The Death of Jesus" it is.
Jesus and Christ are different...
And, he, the Grendel, said, hear me now ween (alas, I am showing my age) upon 'senor' Coetzee's canticluation of his late David's early end. While free of any character named Jesus, Coetzee's chant like novel, "The Death of Jesus", tickled my imagination with biblical allusions both gross and obscure; obscure because I suspect that I failed to note many of the biblical hints that shaped his novel. Nevertheless, it was the novel's Monty Python-like humor that tickled me so; it brought to mind their film, "The Life of Brian", for example. So, on what features of this novel plea my case for its humorousness? He, the Grendel, says, start with character names: Frabicante, Prudencia, Inez, Simon, Ana Magdalena, David, Dmitry, Alyosha, Jeremiah and Bolivar. It is an ancient costume of fiction writing (such as in parables or jokes) to name characters with words that label or point to the role each plays. And as I think of it, this use of words as labels fits well into the "tabula rasa" or the "blank slate" -like state that describes the cognitive status of every citizen that arrives in Noville and Estrella. That is to say that in the world of Coetzee's Jesus trilogy all the humans that populate that world (and all there are refugees) enter it with neither memory nor knowledge of any kind. But, the Government (to the rescue?) labels each with a name and age, provides them with a language (here, Spanish) and some sort of skill. (Note that Dr Frabicante's school /orphanage focuses on skills rather than 'texts'.) So, the denizens of this Trilogy's world learn a language and a skill via an educational experience that resembles a grand game of "Simon says". (Note, the recurring motif that calls out David's mentor, "He, Simon says" or "said" followed by a verb -a command, say. As for me, this "tabula rasa" like situation along with its "ostensive definition" method of teaching brings to mind the concept of language and learning that Wittgenstein criticizes at the beginning of his "Philosophical Investigations". Please, recall, that I personally study with Wittgenstein.)
And, what are readers to make of the figure, "he, Simon..."? Does this rather quirky gesture merely ornament the fabric of " The Death of Jesus" or is it, perhaps, a strong punctuation; an sudden, unexpected overhead sweep of a chore of dancers' arms, a simple gesture that nevertheless contrasts powerfully to the their otherwise grounded movement across the stage. When considered in this way, the "he, Simon," gesture connects Coetzee's novel to Tudor's ballet "Dark Elegies", a work that also deals with the death of children and proliferates with such powerful gestures. Yet, in spite of the novels' binding sorrow it also offers moments of (jarring) giddiness.
What, for example, are readers to make of a 10 year old boy who in the midst of a miserable death asks Simon, his mentor, if in the next life that he might... well, you know...get laid? Now, if Simon could have recalled the better parts of his erased life, he might have replied a la "Hamlet", But,..."in that sleep of death what erections may come when you have shuffled off this mortal coil?" So, is this exchange Coetzee's Monty Python-style of punning on Christ's Passion? Additionally, one finds it ironic (no, funny) that in "The Death of Jesus" notions such as atonement, redemption, forgiveness, miracle worker and so forth that typically, for Christians, inform discussions on the mission of Jesus never occur. Dmtry, for example, a devoted attended on David, follows David to find "rescue" from life rather than redemption from sin (although he does ask David for forgiveness for the murder he committed). Moreover, David's enchantment with (a young reader's version of) "Don Quixote" and his inspirational stories based on "Don Quixote" find greater resonances with pagan Greek sources (e. g. Plato's "Phaedrus") rather than Abrahamic ones. So, Coetzee's title, "The Death of Jesus" works to lure the unwary into (those that might assume that the name Jesus is identical with Christ) using only "Christian Parable" as a critical grid. Recall that Coetzee's Jesus Trilogy plots itself in a Spanish speaking world where the name Jesus (or in vulgar pagan parlance, Hay, Zeus) is common.
One last comment or next to last, I could not but laugh given the important role of numerology in the novel at Simon's meditation on 42- Yes, think of Douglas Adams and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". And, the last comment: I recommend that readers visit Antony Tudor's "Dark Elegies" and there to see how well embedded in "The Death of Jesus" it is.
September 29, 2024
Misschien moet ik Don Quichot lezen nu.
Zou ik dan de vraag van de bibliothecaresse kunnen beantwoorden?
Wat is de boodschap van dit boek?
Zou ik dan de vraag van de bibliothecaresse kunnen beantwoorden?
Wat is de boodschap van dit boek?
September 24, 2020
In one regard, this is a typical 5-star story from Coetzee. It is quick and easy to read. I was compelled to keep going to see what would happen. There is beauty and pain in what the author writes about.
In another regard, it was a frustrating 2 or 3-star experience. There are multiple times throughout the story where characters do or say things that do not fit the situation and only serve to drive the plot forward. If you read quickly, you accept them. But if you pause and think about what was just said or done, you lose your suspension of disbelief. I can forgive this because it is an author I love, but I have to also be honest that if another author did the same thing, I would lose my patience and give a low rating.
All in all, this is not one of his classics but it is also not one of the very few stories of his that I didn't enjoy.
In another regard, it was a frustrating 2 or 3-star experience. There are multiple times throughout the story where characters do or say things that do not fit the situation and only serve to drive the plot forward. If you read quickly, you accept them. But if you pause and think about what was just said or done, you lose your suspension of disbelief. I can forgive this because it is an author I love, but I have to also be honest that if another author did the same thing, I would lose my patience and give a low rating.
All in all, this is not one of his classics but it is also not one of the very few stories of his that I didn't enjoy.
March 31, 2021
"Mums - mums visiems - reikia šviesos žodžio, kuris atvertų mūsų kalėjimo duris ir sugrąžintų gyvybę. Kai sakau "kalėjimo", turiu galvoje ne tik uždarą ligoninės korpusą, turiu galvoje pasaulį, visą platų pasaulį. Juk pasaulis, žvelgiant iš tam tikros perspektyvos, toks ir yra: tai kalėjimas, kuriame mes pamažu yrame, kuprojamės, pradedame nelaikyti šlapimo ir galiausiai mirštame, o paskui (jei tikėsime tam tikromis istorijomis, kuriomis aš netikiu) pabundame kažkur tolimame krante ir ten turime vėl iš naujo sužaisti visą šitą sudėtingą žaidimą."
Ar ši trilogija ir yra tas autoriaus mums nešamas "šviesos žodis"? Galbūt, nors forma, kokia jis perteikiamas, neatrodo labai šviesi. Jei būtų šviesi, tai gal priimtume kaip dar vieną New Age kūrinėlį, lengvai praslystantį mūsų sielos paviršiumi.
Ar ši trilogija ir yra tas autoriaus mums nešamas "šviesos žodis"? Galbūt, nors forma, kokia jis perteikiamas, neatrodo labai šviesi. Jei būtų šviesi, tai gal priimtume kaip dar vieną New Age kūrinėlį, lengvai praslystantį mūsų sielos paviršiumi.
January 28, 2021
Musiałem dać sobie dzień na pozbieranie myśli po zakończeniu trójksięgu. Jest to jedna z tych książek, która zmusza do myślenia, wiele zdań Davida na przestrzeni książki zostaje na długo w głowie. Jest to na pewno coś, co będę musiał powtórzyć, koniecznie za parę lat, tom po tomie, oby już po lekturze Cervantesa. Sam trzeci tom jest pięknym i smutnym dopełnieniem historii. Pełnej niedomówień i pytań bez odpowiedzi, w świecie do którego czytelnik jest wrzucony równie nieświadomy jego zasad, co główni bohaterowie. Interpretacje zostawiam dla siebie, ale z każdą chwilą myślenia o tej trylogii doceniam ją, co raz to mocniej, choć na gorąco, zaraz po przeczytaniu byłem raczej sceptyczny. Ten stan, to jest chyba właśnie to, za co tak bardzo lubię czytać Coetzee'ego.
June 28, 2020
In this, the third volume of J. M. Coetzee’s Jesus trilogy, Coetzee is playing more with his overriding metaphor than in the first two volumes. However, in this volume, Simón’s role as the non-philosophical, philosophical protagonist is least effective, largely because the extraordinary overwhelms the ordinary to an extent that Simón’s role shrinks. Coetzee does not allow death to be more important than life, and he continues to make effective use of the present tense and the third person with emphasis on “he” (Simón), as well as playing with logic, although not in quite as interesting ways.
August 27, 2019
5 estrellas le hacen justicia a este final de la trilogía que jamás imaginé que me sorprendería tanto.
Coetzee ha creado una historia realmente increíble con la sencillez que lo caracteriza. ¿Cómo puedes lograr eso?
Coetzee ha creado una historia realmente increíble con la sencillez que lo caracteriza. ¿Cómo puedes lograr eso?
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