Life &
Times of Michael K by J.M. Coetzee (1983) is an oddly moving little book about an
oddly moving little man. Michael K is an unlikely protagonist. The book begins with
his mother’s revulsion at the cleft lip he is born with. Michael spends his school
years in an institution, visited by his mother, then becomes a gardener. He cares
for his sickly mother until the growing social unrest in their city of Cape
Town, South Africa, threatens to take away both their jobs. After a riot in
their neighborhood, she persuades him to take her to the countryside where she
grew up, but she dies before they arrive.
At
this point, Michael is cut loose. The first two-thirds of the book is the oddly
clinical chronicling of his long and lonely path. He is picked up as a vagrant and
spends time in a camp where he is told he is not a prisoner, but that he will be
shot if he tries to leave. He eventually finds the farm where he thinks his
mother lived, and secretly plants a pumpkin patch, living like an animal in a burrow,
before he is picked up and sent back to camp. Michael wonders why he must do as
he is told, but never seems to get emotional. He simply leaves when he can.
Part
two starts out clinically as well, as it is told from the point of view of a
medic in Michael’s last camp. However, this man becomes moved by Michael’s
case, almost in awe of the quiet man’s unreachability, and dreams of following
him back to the country when Michael escapes yet again. He even starts addressing
his musings directly to Michael:
You have never asked for anything, yet you have become an
albatross around my neck. Your bony arms are knotted behind my head, I walk
bowed under the weight of you.
I
take this to mean that the white colonists have created a huge burden for
themselves by taking away the natives’ freedom; each man comes to represent his
race. However, one of the remarkable things about Michael K is that Coetzee never once describes a person as black,
white, or colored. I can only assume that Michael is black or colored, and that
the medic is white. Finally, the very brief part three finds Michael back in
Cape Town, and willing to tell his story to other people surviving by their
wits, away from the camps.
I
am reminded of several other works: first, the South African setting reminds me
of Nadine Gordimer’s The Conservationist,
also about race, and farming. Michael’s last initial, K, as well as the
thoughtless bureaucracy that labels this harmless gardener as an arsonist and guerilla,
makes me think of Kafka’s The Trial.
Finally, the life-or-death bleakness of Michael’s travels through a war-torn
landscape reminds me of Cormac McCarthy’s The
Road. Like The Road, this novel
is moving without being sentimental. I look forward to reading Nobel
prizewinner Coetzee’s next Booker winner, Disgrace
(1999).
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