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43 of 48 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A portrait of the artist... as a supporting character, 24 Aug 2009
Ostensibly, J.M. Coetzee's Summertime is a third instalment of autobiography, succeeding Boyhood (1998) and Youth (2002) (both of which, incidentally, are excellent). But this description belies the book's true nature in two ways. First, Summertime is so far from being a conventional autobiography it's essentially a work of fiction. Second, it's a terrific book in its own right, and can be enjoyed without any prior knowledge of its forerunners.
The book begins in a style resembling Boyhood and Youth. Brief scenes from the life of Coetzee, now a thirtysomething in 1970s apartheid South Africa, are narrated in crisp third-person prose. Coetzee, we learn, is a down-and-out, unemployed and living with his elderly father, disgusted by apartheid but stuck in a rut of inaction verging on paralysis. But each scene stops abruptly, clearly unfinished, and after 15 pages the narrative stops altogether. What's going on? Here emerges the book's central conceit: Coetzee has died, leaving behind notebooks of assorted scraps. A would-be biographer, seeking to reconstruct "the story" of Coetzee's life, interviews a number of people who knew Coetzee at that time, and transcripts of these (fictional) interviews occupy most of the book's remainder.
The interviewees give us little vignettes in which Coetzee is a ghostly figure, a barely-there anonynimity, content to be manipulated and exploited by stronger characters: a man defined by his fleeting and unsatisfying connections to others. He is a supporting character. "I am perfectly aware it is John you want to hear about, not me," says Julia, Coetzee's one-time lover. "But the only story involving John that I can tell, or the only one I am prepared to tell, is this one, namely the story of my life and his part in it, which is quite different, quite another matter, from the story of his life and my part in it."
What a wonderful antidote to most autobiographies, in which the author is the protagonist in "My Story", steering a course through life like a Greek hero at the helm of a ship. Lives aren't like that. And what a remarkable fictional achievement, since, after all, the "interviews" are pure fiction. Coetzee imagines himself as he must have been viewed by others (scruffy, shy, maladroit, and not a bestselling-author-in-waiting), and does so with great perceptiveness and self-effacement, through a skilfully crafted range of utterly convincing other-voices.
John Berger famously wrote that "never again will a single story be told as though it were the only one". In this rich and intelligent work, Coetzee emphasizes that this goes for life stories too.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Review of Summertime JM Coetzee by Amanda Bennett, 6 Jan 2010
Book Review
Summertime by J M Coetzee
Summertime (2009) is the third of South African John Coetzee's fictionalised autobiographies following Boyhood (1997) and youth (2002). The inspired novel centres around a young English biographer who is working on a book about the late writer, John Coetzee, focusing on the years 1972-1977 when Coetzee was in his thirties.
Following the premature end to his six years in America, John returned to South Africa to live in the outskirts of Cape Town with his widowed father. This period is emphasised by the biographer as an era when Coetzee was `finding his feet as a writer'.
Never having met Coetzee, he embarks on an exciting journey of interviewing a number of characters who were physically and emotionally involved with him.
The Coetzee that we are introduced to, through a series of interviews, is lonely and uncomfortable with almost every aspect of his life. Further on in the novel, a more humuorous side is developed as Coetzee becomes sexually involved with a number of female characters. He takes up dancing in attempt to woo a woman, only to make a fool of himself. Coetzee continues to place himself in awkward situations throughout the novel creating an ongoing theme of comedy for the reader to enjoy.
Within the novel, he is regarded with mistrust by his family as he engages in manual labour in penitence for his country's long history of `making other people do our work for us as we sit in the shade and watch'. His love for the Coetzee family estate in the Karoo remains as passionate as ever it was in Boyhood but everywhere else he is lost. South Africa has become a `loud angry place'.
Summertime is a captivating portrait of life, and like most lives it is full of dichotomy and everyday moral struggles. It is biographical in most of its elegant content, yet largely fictional in the manner of its telling. It is meant to be about one man, however it spends most of the time exploring the lives of the characters John was involved with. This unpredictable period of John's life is presented by women who John believed he had a significant relationship with. Unfortunately, it was unrequited love, and from the female side of the story, their relationships held no passion.
Dominating the Man Booker Prize Summertime is said to be his most popular work since Youth was published seven years ago, also another enticing read.
In style and character, one gets the feeling that this portrayal is true to the man Coetzee feels himself to be. It is an exercise in self awareness and honesty which makes his autobiographies such a joy to read, exploring the life of one of our greatest esteemed writers.
By Amanda Bennett
Bournemouth University
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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Cold Fish Are Jumpin', 6 Oct 2009
Focusing on a five-year period in the seventies, a biographer in 2008/9 has conducted interviews with a handful of people who knew a now-dead writer named 'John Coetzee.' Summertime is made up of transcripts of these interviews and fragments of the dead man's diary-notebooks.
When I think of the phrase 'fictionalised autobiography,' I think of a book in which the story is basically true but utilises some literary devices in order to better tell the tale and perhaps includes a large degree of self-serving embellishment. With this endlessly fascinating new novel, Coetzee twists this so much it is inside out.
He has taken the idea of semi-autobiographical fiction and switched the two halves around, so to speak: he obscures the fiction beneath a veil of fact. He gives his central character his own name, aspects of his history, his nationality and his literary career but other crucial details are not accurate. For example, it is hugely important throughout the novel that the character is unmarried, a loner bordering on asexual, but in fact during the period covered in the book - 1972-77 - he was married and had two young children (according to Wonkipedia anyway (I know, I know.)) The usual question of "how much of the author is in the character?" becomes here "how much of the character is not in the author?" After reading this playful, fertile and surprisingly swift little book your mind will be pregnant with questions: to what extent does the truth behind fiction matter? To what extent can fiction illuminate truth while obscuring it? Can one write one's own life? How much of us is left behind in the minds of others after our physical demise? How truthful would that picture be, and how much would that matter? And on and on. (Of course maybe he just wanted to write his ex-wife out of existence!)
While Coetzee is constructing his playground of dualities - fiction/fact, art/artist, public/private (dichotomizing around, you might say) - it is surely no accident how blackly funny it all is: instead of massaging the reality into a more flattering shape, the version Coetzee creates of 'himself' is certainly not a self-serving one. He uses every opportunity to humiliate 'himself' in the most excruciatingly personal ways, to the point of over-kill. It's as if Charlie Kaufman remade Rashomon. Also interesting is Coetzee's depiction of the time and place (seventies South Africa, as apartheid was itself coming apart though long before it was finally dismantled), but of course the book forces us to question how truthful one man's perspective can be, on himself, his companions and his times.
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