Schlagwort: Beziehung

J.M. Coetzee: Disgrace (1999) No ratings yet.

John Maxwell Coetzee in Poland

Image via Wikipedia Disgrace: A Novel: J. M. Coetzee: Books

First UK edition cover

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David Lurie is hardly the hero of his own life, or anyone else’s. At 52, the protagonist of Disgrace is at the end of his professional and romantic game, and seems to be deliberately courting disaster. Long a professor of modern languages at Cape Town University College, he has recently been relegated to adjunct professor of communications at the same institution, now pointedly renamed Cape Technical University:

Although he devotes hours of each day to his new discipline, he finds its first premise, as enunciated in the Communications 101 handbook, preposterous: „Human society has created language in order that we may communicate our thoughts, feelings and intentions to each other.“ His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origins of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.

Twice married and twice divorced, his magnetic looks on the wane, David rather cruelly seduces one of his students, and his conduct unbecoming is soon uncovered. In his eighth novel, J.M. Coetzee might have been content to write a searching academic satire. But in Disgrace he is intent on much more, and his art is as uncompromising as his main character, though infinitely more complex. Refusing to play the public-repentance game, David gets himself fired–a final gesture of contempt. Now, he thinks, he will write something on Byron’s last years. Not empty, unread criticism, „prose measured by the yard,“ but a libretto. To do so, he heads for the Eastern Cape and his daughter’s farm. In her mid-20s, Lucy has turned her back on city sophistications: with five hectares, she makes her living by growing flowers and produce and boarding dogs. „Nothing,“ David thinks, „could be more simple.“ But nothing, in fact, is more complicated–or, in the new South Africa, more dangerous. Far from being the refuge he has sought, little is safe in Salem. Just as David has settled into his temporary role as farmworker and unenthusiastic animal-shelter volunteer, he and Lucy are attacked by three black men. Unable to protect his daughter, David’s disgrace is complete. Hers, however, is far worse.

There is much more to be explored in Coetzee’s painful novel, and few consolations. It would be easy to pick up on his title and view Disgrace as a complicated working-out of personal and political shame and responsibility. But the author is concerned with his country’s history, brutalities, and betrayals. Coetzee is also intent on what measure of soul and rights we allow animals. After the attack, David takes his role at the shelter more seriously, at last achieving an unlikely home and some measure of love. In Coetzee’s recent Princeton lectures, The Lives of Animals, an aging novelist tells her audience that the question that occupies all lab and zoo creatures is, „Where is home, and how do I get there?“ David, though still all-powerful compared to those he helps dispose of, is equally trapped, equally lost.

Disgrace is almost willfully plain. Yet it possesses its own lean, heartbreaking lyricism, most of all in its descriptions of unwanted animals. At the start of the novel, David tells his student that poetry either speaks instantly to the reader–„a flash of revelation and a flash of response“–or not at all. Coetzee’s book speaks differently, its layers and sadnesses endlessly unfolding. –Kerry Fried –This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Schande (2000) (englisch: Disgrace, 1999) ist ein Roman von J. M. Coetzee. Er erhielt dafür 1999 den Booker Prize. Der Titel des Romans ist nicht eindeutig ins Deutsche zu übersetzen, da disgrace nicht nur Schande, sondern auch ‚Ungnade‘ bedeutet. Der Inhalt rechtfertigt beide Lesarten: David, der Protagonist, ist in Ungnade gefallen, seine Tochter Lucy jedoch wurde vergewaltigt, also ‚geschändet‘.
Der Text beschäftigt sich – wie oft bei Coetzee – mit dem Südafrika in der Postapartheid-Ära. Anders als in anderen Romanen verzichtet der Autor hier anscheinend auf Utopien, obgleich er in den Namen der Hauptpersonen David, Lucy und Petrus beziehungsreiche Anspielungen auf einen zukunftsträchtigen Hintergrund macht (siehe Personennamen).

siehe auch: en.wikipedia, de.wikipedia

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Paula Fox: Paul ohne Jacob (2001) No ratings yet.


18399036Jacob hat kleine dicke Hände, seine Brille sitzt schief auf seinem Grimassen schneidenden Gesicht, und ständig lacht er völlig grundlos. Die Eltern haben nur noch den Kleinen im Auge, jeden Rülpser beobachten sie besorgt. Paul ist einfach nur genervt von seinem jüngeren Bruder, der seiner Meinung nach einen Konstruktionsfehler hat. Jeden Tag übt er, so zu tun, als gäbe es Jacob gar nicht. Und er wird immer besser darin. Doch dann passiert etwas, womit Paul nicht gerechnet hat …

Konsequent und überzeugend beschreibt Paula Fox die Not ihres Helden. Statt ein unrealistisches Happy End zu liefern, deutet sie nur vorsichtig an, wie sich Pauls verhärtete Gefühle langsam lösen.
Eine meisterhafte Geschichte über die Beziehung zu einem besonderen Kind.

  • Broschiert: 116 Seiten
  • Verlag: Carlsen; Auflage: 1., Aufl. (April 2005)
  • Sprache: Deutsch
  • ISBN-10: 3551372845
  • ISBN-13: 978-3551372840
  • Altersempfehlung des Herstellers: 10 – 11 Jahre
  • Originaltitel: Radiance Descending

Paula Fox zählt zu den angesehensten amerikanischen Erzählerinnen der Gegenwart. Sie schreibt für Kinder und Erwachsene und hat für ihre Bücher höchste Auszeichnungen erhalten, darunter die Newberry Medal und die Hans-Christian-Andersen-Medaille für ihr Gesamtwerk.

Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis 2002 – Auswahlliste

Ab 10 Jahren

Aus dem Amerikanischen von Cornelia Krutz-Arnold, fester Einband, 112 Seiten

  • Rezension: Die ZEIT: Er ist nicht mein Bruder

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