What Is The Moral? Show Me!

I finished reading J.M. Coetzee's "Life and Times of Michael K" on the bus into work this morning, spent all day ruminating on it. I liked a lot about this novel, but not all of it. It's definitely going into my re-read pile.

The story is, of course, that of the eponymous Michael K, a 'simple' gardener living in South Africa during apartheid who makes a journey across the country while trying to stay under the radar of the authorities. The country is in a state of civil war, and anyone without the proper paperwork or a fixed address is summarily imprisoned in a work camp of some form. Through this world walks Michael K, who only wants to honour his mother and tend his garden.

The novel is divided in three parts, the first and last being in Michael's point of view, the third being a camp official's first-person view of Michael during a period of incarceration. I was really enjoying the story up till the first division, but after that I found it took on a tone of self-analysis, which I always find irritating. When an author feels the need to explain their story during the story - well, I just think that means they're doing something wrong. I firmly believe in the "show, don't tell" school of storytelling. If it weren't for that, I'm positive I would've loved this novel.

To me, this story was about innocence and freedom. Although all the supporting characters believe Michael to be feeble minded, I didn't see him that way. I think he has a social innocence as a result of his isolated up-bringing, which keeps him emotionally separate from the civil unrest. There is also, of course, the much larger theme of freedom - the cycle of imprisonment and liberty repeating and emphasized by Michael's seemingly unconscious protest. It's a fascinating study, and worth a read for that if nothing else.

Another feature of this novel that really struck me was the total lack of reference to race. For a novel set in South Africa during apartheid, dealing with civil unrest and military actions, it is striking in it's absence. It gives Michael's story an air of universality - this could be any man, in any country, where the powers that be have decided they know how best to take care of people. It's chilling, in that sense.

Tomorrow I move on to Anita Brookner's "Hotel du Lac". For tonight, however, I think I am going to savor the image of Michael tending his garden. In sunlight.

Happy reading.