I have no idea what I’m going to say about this book. I finished it on Sunday night but I’m not sure if I can tell you what it was about, because I’m still trying to work it out for myself!
This book reminds me of Possession by A.S. Byatt in that I know enough to know that I missed half the allusions and references embedded in the story. I felt like I got most of the Christian references – Coetzee’s take on no room at the inn, the virgin birth, turn the other cheek, loaves and fishes, the trinity – were chortle out loud moments for me as I revelled in the child-like absurdity of it all.
Were we in heaven? Maybe it was some kind of dystopian/utopian Spain? Or just some kind of literary made up novel world? David was one of the most annoying children I’ve ever met. He was arrogant, petulant, naïve, attention-seeking and demanding. A spoilt brat.
We like to believe we are special, my boy, each of us. But, strictly speaking, that cannot be so. If we were all special, there would be no specialness left. Yet we continue to believe in ourselves.
Despite such oddness, or maybe because of it, I still found The Childhood of Jesus utterly compelling and thought provoking. I basically read it in three sittings. The chaos and uncertainty of ‘where are we, what’s going on?’ kept me riveted. I sensed there was some bigger philosophical Truth that Coetzee wanted me to see, but it will take some pondering and perhaps a reread to nut it out. The reference to Don Quixote, “it looks like a simple book for children, but in truth it isn’t simple at all. It presents the world to us through two pairs of eyes, Don Quixote’s eyes and Sancho’s eyes” leads me to believe that there are at least two perspectives to consider here (if not more), that it is not a universal Truth we are seeking but alternate viewpoints, moral quandaries and multiple ambiguities.
The bland, passionless (dystopian/utopian) world created by Coetzee became more frightening as the story progressed. However, the philosophising stevedores were adorable. I give you one paragraph (from one of the stevedores) that for me sums up some of the layers of this story…about the nature of the novel, what is real and how we know if something is real or not:
Consider now history. If history, like climate were a higher reality, then history would have manifestations which we would be able to feel through our senses. But where are these manifestations?’ He looks around. ‘Which of us has ever had his cap blown off by history?’ There is silence. ‘No one. Because history has no manifestations. Because history is not real. Because history is just a made-up story.
This will no doubt become one of those love it or hate it books. Curiously, it looks like I will be falling into the love camp. It is also a book to read quickly, but to ponder on for years to come.
NB. We now claim Coetzee as one of our own. He moved to Australia in 2002 and became an Australian citizen in 2006. We’re rather cheeky like that!
After crossing oceans, a man and a boy arrive in a new land. Here they are each assigned a name and an age, and held in a camp in the desert while they learn Spanish, the language of their new country. As Simón and David they make their way to the relocation centre in the city of Novilla, where officialdom treats them politely but not necessarily helpfully.
Simón finds a job in a grain wharf. The work is unfamiliar and backbreaking, but he soon warms to his stevedore comrades, who during breaks conduct philosophical dialogues on the dignity of labour, and generally take him to their hearts.
Now he must set about his task of locating the boy’s mother. Though like everyone else who arrives in this new country he seems to be washed clean of all traces of memory, he is convinced he will know her when he sees her. And indeed, while walking with the boy in the countryside Simón catches sight of a woman he is certain is the mother, and persuades her to assume the role.David’s new mother comes to realise that he is an exceptional child, a bright, drea my boy with highly unusual ideas about the world. But the school authorities detecta rebellious streak
in him and insist he be sent to a special school far away. His mother refuses to yield him up, and it is Simón who must drive the car as the trio flees across themountains.
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