Renowned for his sparse yet powerful prose, J. M. Coetzee is unquestionably among the most influential--and provocative--authors of our time. With characteristic insight and a brittle wit that forces our attention on the common terrors we don't want to think about (Washington Post), Coetzee here challenges us to interrogate our preconceptions not only of love, but of truth itself.
Exacting yet unpredictable, pithy yet complex, Coetzee's The Pole tells the story of Wittold Walccyzkiecz, a vigorous, extravagantly white-haired pianist and interpreter of Chopin who becomes infatuated with Beatriz, a stylish patron of the arts, after she helps organize his concert in Barcelona. Although Beatriz, a married woman, is initially unimpressed by Wittold and his gleaming dentures, she soon finds herself pursued and ineluctably swept into his world. As the journeyman performer sends her countless letters, extends invitations to travel, and even visits her husband's summer home in Mallorca, their unlikely relationship blossoms, though only on Beatriz's terms.
The power struggle between them intensifies, eventually escalating into a full-fledged battle of the sexes. But is it Beatriz who limits their passion by paralyzing her emotions? Or is it Wittold, the old man at his typewriter, trying to force into life his dream of love? Reinventing the all-encompassing love of the poet Dante for his Beatrice, Coetzee exposes the fundamentally enigmatic nature of romance, showing how a chance meeting between strangers--even a Pole, a man of seventy, a vigorous seventy, and a stultified banker's wife who occupies her days in good works--can suddenly change everything.
Reminiscent of James Joyce's The Dead in its exploration of love and loss, The Pole, with lean prose and surprising feints, is a haunting work, evoking the inexhaustible palette of sensations, from blind love to compassion (Berna González Harbour, El País) typical of Coetzee's finest novels.
The idea of human cruelty to animals so consumes novelist Elizabeth Costello in her later years that she can no longer look another person in the eye: humans, especially meat-eating ones, seem to her to be conspirators in a crime of stupefying magnitude taking place on farms and in slaughterhouses, factories, and laboratories across the world.
Costello's son, a physics professor, admires her literary achievements, but dreads his mother's lecturing on animal rights at the college where he teaches. His colleagues resist her argument that human reason is overrated and that the inability to reason does not diminish the value of life; his wife denounces his mother's vegetarianism as a form of moral superiority. At the dinner that follows her first lecture, the guests confront Costello with a range of sympathetic and skeptical reactions to issues of animal rights, touching on broad philosophical, anthropological, and religious perspectives. Painfully for her son, Elizabeth Costello seems offensive and flaky, but--dare he admit it?--strangely on target. In this landmark book, Nobel Prize-winning writer J. M. Coetzee uses fiction to present a powerfully moving discussion of animal rights in all their complexity. He draws us into Elizabeth Costello's own sense of mortality, her compassion for animals, and her alienation from humans, even from her own family. In his fable, presented as a Tanner Lecture sponsored by the University Center for Human Values at Princeton University, Coetzee immerses us in a drama reflecting the real-life situation at hand: a writer delivering a lecture on an emotionally charged issue at a prestigious university. Literature, philosophy, performance, and deep human conviction--Coetzee brings all these elements into play. As in the story of Elizabeth Costello, the Tanner Lecture is followed by responses treating the reader to a variety of perspectives, delivered by leading thinkers in different fields. Coetzee's text is accompanied by an introduction by political philosopher Amy Gutmann and responsive essays by religion scholar Wendy Doniger, primatologist Barbara Smuts, literary theorist Marjorie Garber, and moral philosopher Peter Singer, author of Animal Liberation. Together the lecture-fable and the essays explore the palpable social consequences of uncompromising moral conflict and confrontation.Renowned for his sparse yet powerful prose, J. M. Coetzee is unquestionably among the most influential--and provocative--authors of our time. With characteristic insight and a brittle wit that forces our attention on the common terrors we don't want to think about (Washington Post), Coetzee here challenges us to interrogate our preconceptions not only of love, but of truth itself.
Exacting yet unpredictable, pithy yet complex, Coetzee's The Pole tells the story of Wittold Walccyzkiecz, a vigorous, extravagantly white-haired pianist and interpreter of Chopin who becomes infatuated with Beatriz, a stylish patron of the arts, after she helps organize his concert in Barcelona. Although Beatriz, a married woman, is initially unimpressed by Wittold and his gleaming dentures, she soon finds herself pursued and ineluctably swept into his world. As the journeyman performer sends her countless letters, extends invitations to travel, and even visits her husband's summer home in Mallorca, their unlikely relationship blossoms, though only on Beatriz's terms.
The power struggle between them intensifies, eventually escalating into a full-fledged battle of the sexes. But is it Beatriz who limits their passion by paralyzing her emotions? Or is it Wittold, the old man at his typewriter, trying to force into life his dream of love? Reinventing the all-encompassing love of the poet Dante for his Beatrice, Coetzee exposes the fundamentally enigmatic nature of romance, showing how a chance meeting between strangers--even a Pole, a man of seventy, a vigorous seventy, and a stultified banker's wife who occupies her days in good works--can suddenly change everything.
Reminiscent of James Joyce's The Dead in its exploration of love and loss, The Pole, with lean prose and surprising feints, is a haunting work, evoking the inexhaustible palette of sensations, from blind love to compassion (Berna González Harbour, El País) typical of Coetzee's finest novels.