Customer Reviews

Youth: Scenes from Provincial Life II

5 star:		(17)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Rarely have I encountered so much insight and knowledge in such a short 169 pages. "Youth" is the second novel by the Nobel Prize-winning author J.M. Coetzee. The first, "Waiting for the Barbarians" was a novel about societies whereas "Youth" is a novel about an individual. I get the strong suspicion that this is an autobiographical novel although I know little, if anything, about the author's life. However, his subject character's thoughts, actions, and observations are so real and humanly imperfect that I have to feel the book emerges from the authors own memory. If I'm right, it's all the more reason to praise the talent of Coetzee because he is willing to share the good and the bad about himself. Even if it isn't autobiographical, it is a masterful disection of the inner soul of an emerging adult writer.

"Youth" tells the story of a young man of university age who sensed that his future as a writer in his native South Africa is hopeless. He also realizes that his entire life there is hopeless. We see the clumsiness of his relationships with others; especially women. Most of this is his own fault as he sees everything in the context of whether it will help the development of his artistic talent. Love has no serious role to play in this life (at least at this point in his life). He emigrates to London (his other options for artistic development were Paris and Vienna). Unfortunately he has to get a job and his mathmatical background enables him to find a reasonably good one. However, everything continues to be measured in its' ability to enhance or detract from his development as a poet. The book ends with the anticipated dispair that such a detached life would bring.

The strength of "Youth", for me, is the author's ability to bring us such a candid view of an obsessed life and leave us wondering how we would have done things different. There are many actions and attitudes that we would have definitely handled differently. Yet, the candid reader will see himself committing many of the same errors. It's hard at 53 to remember just what I would have done 30 years ago without the maturity (hopefully) that comes with age and experience. Many authors, I believe, make their youthful characters too mature for their age. Who wants to spend time describing warts when the character is destined for greatness. Coetzee gives us a dose of immature reality and teaches us about ourselves through the improper and unrealistic expectations of a narcissist. We learn by wanting to reach out and correct our anti-hero's shortcomings. We also learn by occassionally seeing ourselves as well. It was an eye-opening experience for me to read "Youth". I'm more anxious than ever to read more of Coetzee.

Twenty taut chapters of lucid prose is what Nobel Laureate Coetzee conjures up in this superb little novel. It is - presumably - a largely autobiographical work about a young South African (himself) leaving his native Cape Town for the UK in the hope that a life in London may finally wrest from him his ultimate destiny: to become a poet. The book brilliantly exposes the mind of this sensitive and somewhat listless youth, who searches for identity and meaning through a rare mix of poetry, computing, and a host of miscarried love affairs.

Coetzee is a master of erudite objectivity, suspending outside judgement in a stream of succinct observations. His narrative runs its course with hardly an extraneous word, and, although the themes are often somber, he maintains an undercurrent of optimism. The result is both satisfying and memorable.

This book is highly recommended. Read it and enjoy.

Coetzee's fictionalized memoir is a painfully honest account of a would-be writer trying to forge himself through two misguided yet common strategies of youth: heading to one of the world's "great cities" (London) because only in these places does "destiny happen"; and kidding himself that both he and his work will be somehow redeemed by love. That he promptly falls into an abyss of middle-class working life and a series of loveless relationships is unsurprising. Coetzee's detached third-person style (an admirable achievement in such a personal work) and his preference for narrating rather than dramatizing most situations here add to the lugubrious mood, though this never becomes a self-indulgent or melancholy work. Indeed, it is saved from that by two things. First, Coetzee's inspiring articulation, in the final pages, of the real reason behind artistic failure in the young: a paralyzing lack of self-confidence which kills art and any chance of a loving relationship. It's the unwillingness to fail and therefore the unwillingness to try which usually thwart us. Secondly, Coetzee's reflections on what I presume to be his own reading history are wonderful. His interleaved commentaries on Henry James, Ezra Pound and Ford Madox Ford are keen and insightful. This is a book that young would-be writers will find alternately depressing and inspiring - and perhaps the not-so-young ones, too. Exhausted, over-educated dwellers in the white-collar wasteland will find much to inspire and console them here. After all, Coetzee was an I.T. professional who didn't publish until well into his 30s and went on to win the Nobel this year at 63. He's certainly made up for lost time.

So absorbed was I after the first page that I plowed straight through this slim volume, without pause. Coetzee's subtle mastery of the English language mesmerized me without bells and whistles to announce its cunning intent. The type of writing I best love, Coetzee's "Youth" renounces ostentatious form for true substance that leaves a mark on the soul after the last page is turned. The plot outline is offered in other reviews; I would just add that it is not dark and depressing at all, but an incursion into the life of the mind which cannot help but enlighten.

Sometimes there is an advantage in reading books by the same author in reverse order. This has been the case here for me. Having read and greatly enjoyed his most recent Summertime: Fiction, in which Coetzee creates an intriguing portrait of one John Coetzee, deceased, a kind of alter ego, and whose personality emerges through interviews and recollections by several friends and acquaintances. In his 2002 portrait "Youth" he distances himself from the younger John by writing what he terms an "autre-biography"*). Written in the present tense and in the third person, the story has a lively and immediate reality while at the same time suggesting a clear distance between the author and his subject. With the hindsight of SUMMERTIME, this reader for one, wondered how much Coetzee has creatively changed or adapted the realities of John's growing up story to suit his idea of who he might have been.

Coetzee concentrates on a decisive period in John's life - from his mid-teens to his early twenties. In this coming of age portrait of John, we see an awkward youth, whose mind hovers between ambitious dreams and self-doubt. He is a young South African, determined to escape the confines of family and the restrictions in his country. Coetzee presents us with a fascinating and often entertaining quasi-memoir, set against the backdrop of a tumultuous period in history: The frequent unrests and subsequent violent suppression of protests by South African blacks (e.g. Sharpville), the Cuban missile crisis, the declaration of South Africa as a republic, etc.

John, while a reasonably successful mathematics student, sees his real calling in being a poet. Poetry for him is the ultimate in artistic expression, prose would only be second best. He also dreams of being kissed by a muse, falling madly in love and that everything else will follow from there smoothly and happily. Life, not surprisingly, turns out very differently and Coetzee's sense of irony is subtle, yet evident throughout the novel. John is somewhat of a reluctant student of passion, experiencing it more vividly in his mind than he is able to transpose it into reality.

Leaving South Africa, he moves to London and from there to a country estate in Berkshire where he is employed as a computer programmer. The description of his daily routines, in North London in particular, and his commentary on life around him are wonderfully accurate, perceptive and also funny. Having lived there for many years, I could relate to many of John's experiences. His ambitions, on the artistic and the personal fronts, don't progress as hoped and are, at least for a while, pushed to the back of his mind. Somewhat disillusioned John nevertheless finds a certain level of inner peace. However, this state of mind and body can only be temporary and he soon struggles again with options and alternatives to move on. Will he get back to his dream of being a poet? Or will he have to settle for second-best and try his hand on prose.

J.M. Coetzee writes in a dry, yet engaging style. The reader feels empathy with the subject and despite Coetzee's detached and often ironic analysis of John's complex inner struggle, the reader cannot help but smile at times as John describes the environment around him. [Friederike Knabe]

*) In an interview with David Attwell in 2002, Coetzee asserted that "all autobiography is autre-biography", or the biography of an other. "Genre definitions", he said, "- at least those definitions employed by ordinary readers - are quite crude.

The word that remains in your head after reading this novel is "misery." The color one remembers is gray. Were the writing less controlled, and the events more cinematic, it would be a film noir. But a film noir is rarely funny, and this book, though seemingly dreary, has funny moments (hence my 5-star rating). Anyone who reads "Youth" in the expectation of finding out what Coetzee's own youth was like will be disappointed. The youth in question is named John, but whether it's J.M. Coetzee we're reading about we're not to know. My (British) edition of the book states firmly on the dust jacket that it is fiction.
So. Most of the action takes place inside John's head. There is little in the way of conversation. Readers familiar with Coetzee's spare writing and use of present-tense narrative will feel quite at home. In fact, this novel, like others by Coetzee, will go down as easily as frozen yogurt. Some readers may think, at the end "What was that all about?" To them I say (as I'm saying to myself) "Read it again." I have at this point read "Youth" only once. A second reading allows one to forget the direction of the plot, and concentrate on other aspects. I would say that, after a single reading, some of the characters other than John seem more real than he does. John has left home and hearth behind, and isn't as happy as he thinks he ought to be. When I try to think of a way to describe him, Britishisms like "sullen cove" and "dismal Jimmy" come to mind. But I do care what happens to him. I know the feeling. At the same time "John" was a miserable provincial in London, I was a miserable small-town girl adrift in a gritty, cold city. But John's misery, in part, derives from his idea of himself, which borders on the overblown. One gets, well, impatient with him. If this John is the same as the boy in "Boyhood," he has changed. The boy John was a likeable kid, albeit a little strange. The older John is less likeable, perhaps because he expects everyone to think he's either a) a genius or b) a great lover, though deep down he's aware that he's neither. No wonder he's miserable. So cry me a river, Coetzee. You're not the only one who had a hard time growing up. As for the rest of you: read the book. It'll grow on you.

My voyage of trough Coetzee's books continues as the time progresses, and as I read more and more, I begain to undersatnd all that I failed in earlier readings...and I find myself wondering, how could one write so good, how could one put on paper every thought that troubled me since I'm aware of my existence...
This you may call an autobiography, an autobiography which presents a young student, artist-to-be, fleeinf from sout-africa in a land of romantic poets, The england, where he does not find, neither poets nor art...
If you ever wondered about your place in modern world, if you ever longed for an "old times" this is the book for you...
(Oh, I almost forgott - if you don't have an elementary education of romanesque poets, philosophy and general conception of the world, this book will be slightly incomprehensible :)

Youth is the second in Coetzee's fictionalized autobigraphical series. I read it right after reading Boyhood. Though it is a continuation, it is not necessary to read Boyhood first.

In Youth, John Coetzee meanders aimlessly in Capetown while completing university. All the while, he dreams of the excitement of being young angst ridden artist in London. Paris would be his preference but he figures that lack of fluency in French would be an impossible hurdle. He is convinced that South Africa will self destruct and he needs to get out.

When he lands in London, it is not what he expects. He ultimately settles into what is, for him, a drudgerous life working as a programmer at IBM. He does have affairs but largely remains unfulfilled and an outsider. Though IBM is passable in some ways, he still longs to be an artist.

This is a study in a young foreign outsider in London in the 1960s. He is slightly embarassed to be from South Africa and never seems to fit in.

As usual, Coetzee's prose is flawless and his description of the inner thoughts of the main character rings with authenticity.

It is uncertain how much is fiction and how much Coetzee's real experience but it's definitely an interesting read.

While it is not one of Coetzee's most important works, it's still very good.

I recommend it as I do pretty much everything by Coetzee. To me, he is clearly one of the greatest writers of our time.

This book by South African writer J. M. Coetzee is not exactly an autobiography, as it recounts a few years of his life, from about the time he was 19 to his mid 20s, during the early 1960s. Though less than 200 pages long, this is hardly a fast read. Coetzee's writing style is not overly complex, but he packs so many things in it, in terms of ideas and reactions to the world around him, that you have to go slow in order to pay close attention. Not that the life shown here is particularly eventful, since most of the time he finds himself bored and lonely. A familiar theme in autobiographies by writers is growing up alone and with few friends and this book certainly shows this. If his male friends are few, his relationships with women are even worse, sordid and often abusive. The book starts in South Africa as the narrator finishes his degree in mathematics, while secretly dreaming of becoming a poet. After the Sharpeville massacre, he decides to move to London, where he works at jobs he finds depressing, first in IBM and then in a British computer firm. Far from being Swinging London, the English capital depicted in this book seems cold and depressing. The protagonist (presumably Coetzee himself) seems very selfish, and self possessed, seemingly incapable of developing a meaningful relationship with fellow human beings. Coupled with a job that he finds meaningless, his only solace (aside with occasional casual sex) comes with reading poetry. Since the book ends when the protagonist is in his mid 20s, the immediate question after reading this book, is what happened to him after that, did he become wiser or did he grew up to be a bitter man.

Coetzee's second autobiographical novel is a story of flights and also an 'Education sentimentale'.

It is a flight from the oppressiveness of his family and the love of his mother - `the bond with the firstborn' -, from the socio-political situation in South-Africa - `an albatross around his neck' - and from mortgage shackles. In one word, it is a flight to freedom.
He arrives in London, but the city turns him into a beaten dog: no work, no stay. He quickly understands that the struggle for life is still going on, that he will have to find his place in the world and that he has to prove that he belongs to this earth.

Intellectually, he is attracted to Pure Thought (mathematics), but he also wants to become a poet. He makes his first encounters (through reading and radio programs) with world literature, e.g. Joseph Brodsky who teaches him that `poetry is truth'.

Sentimentally, he has to fight against his own depths of coldness, callousness, caddishness, his lack of heat and heart. He falls in love with filmdivas, but his own love (better: sex) life is not that of a `fine' author.

In impeccable prose, J.M. Coetzee painted without any shame a very realistic picture of a `Youth-struggle'.
Not to be missed.