An interesting read. I wondered if Coetzee was writing about himself, not literally but figuratively. So I read a bit on the background of this book afterwards and found that this work might be related to/inspired by Kafka. Though I haven't read Kafka, particularly The Metamorphosis, I was somehow reminded of it when I read passages where Michael K reflects on how his wild living is no different from that of a worm, or a spider or any other insects that he comes into close contact with. They are also, to K himself, gardeners, as he comments at the very end of the book, which was K's job at the beginning of the story.

This is the fourth book by Coetzee that I finished, and while his writing seems to be, quite pronouncedly, lamentations of his life and his association with his homeland, this one is a bit heavy compared to his later work. Although Coetzee's brilliant writing style is already very evident in this earlier book of his.

Many good lines I read throughout, but my favourite is probably "... if there is one thing I discovered out in the country, it was that there is time enough for everything." (183) The final paragraph, too long to quote, is amazing as well. It puts a smile to my face. ( )

A very deep, thought provoking, and touching book about an individual who doesn't fit in, in a country that is at war. War requires everyone to cease living their own lives submit themselves to serve the nation (on the other hand, those unable to participate are taken care of), but Michael K just wants to nurture a tiny pumpkin patch by himself. Only one other person in the book understands K's motives, but in a way that passage proves that a simple, slow-paced life may attract even the "sane".

I love Coetzee's dense, minimalistic writing style. He doesn't "point out" the important moments, so even surprising thoughts can occur in the mind of the reader. I also loved Disgrace by Coetzee, so perhaps I should read more of his books. ( )

The author skillfully puts you in the skin of a resourceful, but slightly retarded, man who attempts to rescue his mother and ends up having to survive on his own without any of the amenities of civilization, including food. Well worth a second read. ( )

There is a lot you can read into J.M. Coetzee’s Life and Times of Michael K; though I am not sure I have duly interpreted all that this disturbing tale – to me anyway – realises in its concise exposition of a semblance of a life amidst the most harshness of times.

This is simply a terse account of some years in the life of Michael K. Segregated into distinct parts, perhaps as an illustration of the society itself, the longer first portion starkly recounts, casually but deliberately, the hardships Michael endures: his removal from society when young, due to a physical deformity of an uncorrected hare lip; his subsequent flight out of a confined city pushing his dying mother in a crude hand-made cart, in an attempt to reach her childhood home; to his repeated internments in labour camps and his successful escapes and subsistence on the land – an inward treatise. The second part offers a portrayal of Michael through the eyes of a witness, a medical man, to a short piece of this life of Michael’s and the impressions gained from observing him from the outer, in an attempt to glimpse the inner. And the lasting, profound effect this scrutiny imparts. The final brief portion returns the reader back to Michael, and his thoughts; a closure of sorts; an attempt at an understanding at the least.

The circumstances of this chronicle essentially provide a mirror - to reflect back at ourselves the wretchedness of the world into which Michael is forced to inhabit. And the justification for the whole sorry state of affairs is continually laid at the feet of war: the control of freedom with curfews, the mandatory but unattainable permits to travel at will; and the basic lack of humanity. Fundamentally, Michael is an anomaly. His hare lip, with no earnest attempt by either side to remedy this, makes it difficult for him to communicate, so he is vastly misunderstood. His minimalism, his need for little, makes him misconstrued as underhanded and thus criminal. And his defencelessness has him preyed upon by those who should, in all decency, be protecting him. Because he is discerned as different, in the worst sense he must be captured and controlled, put in a cage; in the best he must be helped, offered aid. Never allowed independence, his nonchalance and lack of orthodoxy to these actions infer him as suspect. Only conformity and uniformity are acceptable traits – any anonymity, any disparity are blatantly used as a validation for abysmal actions.

I am always in awe of authors whose brevity of words supply a surfeit of ideas and emotions – writers who can create in a simple sentence a world of complexity and innuendo, as does this book. J. M. Coetzee may be evoking a hopeless struggle to survive against unrelenting intangible forces; and yet, somehow, I am left with the belief that the simple expediency of one small scoop, again and again - one small step after another, taken unremittingly and obstinately - may just overcome even the greatest of obstacles in the end.

(Mar 28, 2009) ( )

I enjoyed reading this the first time, but less so the second time, after reading his other book 'disgraced'.