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Dead Reckoning: On Coetzee's Summertime

2010, Bookforum

A review of J.M. Coetzee's Summertime

Summertime by J. M. Coetzee New York: Viking. 256 pages. $25 Martin Puchner In a famous cartoon by Achille Lemot, Gustave Flaubert holds up the heart of Emma Bovary impaled on a knife. A similar picture could be drawn of J. M. Coetzee. Even though he is an outspoken vegetarian and defender of animal rights, Coetzee has no qualms about subjecting his characters to the cruelest vivisection. His main instrument is a third-person narrator who enjoys unrestricted access to the minds and hearts of his characters. More recently, Coetzee has applied the technique to his own person. In the two autobiographical volumes Boyhood (1997) and Youth (2002), he dissects the young John Coetzee like a surgeon operating on himself. Youth leaves Coetzee as a young man at loose ends in London. In Summertime, the third installment of Coetzee’s autobiography, we find him in his thirties, back home in South Africa. He is living with his father, toward for whom the child of Boyhood expresses fierce contempt, in an outskirt of Cape Town, trying to make ends meet with an unglamorous teaching job. His activities as a writer go largely unmentioned. Instead, we learn about his affair with a neighbor's wife, his visits to the family farm, an awkward infatuation with the mother of one of his students, and his reputation as a competent but unenthusiastic teacher. Summertime only describes a few years in the ’70s; the intervening time since London is only suggested through ominous hints. We gather that Coetzee moved to the United States and ran afoul of the law. In fact, Coetzee spent many formative years in the States, until he, together with forty-four other faculty members, occupied a university building to protest the Vietnam War, then was arrested for trespassing and forced to go 1 home. But Coetzee refuses to play the author as activist hero. When his cousin asks about America, his alter ego responds by misquoting Lucky’s monologue from Waiting for Godot: “Given the existence of a personal God . . . with a white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia loves us deeply quaquaquaqua with some exceptions.” One of Summertime’s surprises is that Coetzee’s turn away from his signature technique no longer dominates. Although the book opens and ends, as did the previous two volumes, third-person narrator in place, for the most part it consists of five interviews conducted by a fictive biographer who is researching the author’s life. To this end, he speaks to two of Coetzee’s lovers, the mother of one of his students, a colleague, and a cousin. As this autobiographical project reaches the age when he becomes a serious author, Coetzee apparently no longer trusts himself to perform the operation and prefers the services of a professional. We are not dealing with vivisection anymore, for Coetzee, within the frame of this fictional autobiography, has actually died. The biographer is merely conducting the autopsy. The former lovers and friends don’t exactly go easy on the corpse; they are happy to detail Coetzee’s failings as a lover or teacher or friend. At the same time, they don’t quite engage in the ruthless self-critique that marks Coetzee's omniscient narrators. Friends can afford what Coetzee himself couldn’t—namely, moments of sympathy. Sometimes this sympathy even turns what could be the material for ruthless selfindictment—dates gone horribly wrong, awkward family scenes—into momentary comedy. One night, Coetzee shows up at a lover’s house with a cassette recorder and his favorite Schubert string quartet quintet. She comments dryly: “I don’t know if you remember the slow movement, but there is a long violin aria with the viola throbbing 2 below, and I could feel John trying to keep time with it. The whole business struck me as forced, ridiculous. Somehow or other my remoteness communicated itself to John. ‘Empty your mind!’ he hissed at me. ‘Feel through the music!’” Even as they introduce variation and novelty, the dialogues between the biographer and his interviewees come at a price. For the most part, the biographer is unobtrusive, giving over much of the space to Coetzee’s acquaintances. But his occasional interjections are grating, in part because he is ever worried about catching names and reduced to asking flat-footed questions: “Just a minute. I’m confused.” At the same time, his questions and comments, annoying as they are, remain entirely disembodied. It is as if the camera were directed only at the interviewees. Nor is there a scene, even minimally rendered, in which the interviews take place. As long as the characters speak, Coetzee’s masterful style narrative is on display. But when there is dialogue between the investigator and the interviewees, the contrivance becomes all too evident: There is no real exchange and no discernable setting. Perhaps Coetzee is trying to scare away literary critics hoping to research his life. We live in an age when the autobiography, the memoir, and the diary reign supreme. Coetzee, is part of this tendency. Even his fiction has become increasingly autobiographical; Elizabeth Costello (2003) and Diary of a Bad Year (2007) feature barely disguised versions of himself. In Summertime fictional autobiography and his autobiographical fiction converge. But Coetzee does not write autobiography like anyone else; he avoids the presumptuous intimacies of confessional narrators even as he sows confusion about his life. He admits that Jacobus Coetzee, the alleged ancestor on whom his first novel, Dusklands (1974), was based, was entirely made up, as was the preface, supposedly written by Coetzee’s father. Priming us to be suspicious about the 3 proliferating versions of himself in his fiction, Coetzee trains us to be suspicious about our own autobiographical era as well. Summertime pretends that Coetzee has died, but his readers know that we can expect ever more unreliable versions of him in the future. Martin Puchner's new book, The Drama of Ideas: Platonic Provocations in Theater and Philosophy, is due out this winter. 4