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reidob 's review for:
The Schooldays of Jesus
by J.M. Coetzee
Gabriel Garcia Marquez meets Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Davíd arrived on a boat that came across the sea of forgetfulness. This happens to everyone; they pass from one life to the next and have only the vaguest memory of having had a previous life, with different parents, in a different place. Davíd's mother and father did not come, so he was taken under the wing of Simón and Inés, who also had drifted together in the confusion and perplexity of the journey. They are not his parents and do not pretend to be. They are not a couple and do not pretend to be. Inés is deeply suspicious of passion. Simón is a literalist with little imagination but a big heart. And Davíd is a six-year-old ("almost seven!") who asks lots and lots and lots of questions.
As he is nearly seven, it is time for Davíd to go to school. But which should they choose? Davíd sings beautifully but does not wish to enter the Acadamy of Music. He is bright and it is felt that the public schools may not challenge him enough. They are also fugitives from the law because they are not Davíd's true parents and fear that he might be recognized in that setting. This leaves the Acadamy of Dance, of which Davíd is skeptical, but they are running out of options, and at the interview he becomes enthralled with Ana Magdalena Arroyo, who will be his teacher. Usually somewhat truculent and used to having his own way, Davíd is markedly subdued and pliant in her presence; it is decided, he will attend the Academy of Dance.
But not is all as it appears at the Academy, and soon everything will change and grow more confusing for little Davíd, who will continue to incessantly ask questions about the why of it and how everything works. He is particularly interested in the workings of passion in adult humans. A crime is committed which must be expiated, but about which there must be a great deal of talk first.
I will admit this is a book I admired a great deal more than I enjoyed. I would label this magical realism if I had to choose a name for it. It is also deeply allegorical, though the title leaves little doubt what the allegory is. It is clever and sweet and charming. It is disarming in its simplicity. But in fact very little happens in a traditional sense, and there really is quite a bit of philosophizing and navel-gazing. And, as noted above, Davíd is a veritable font of questions; typical for a six-year-old, no doubt, but sometimes it gets to be a bit much. Simón clearly has more patience than I do (though it is not inexhaustible).
Still, this is a fine book of its type and I intend to pick up the other two volumes of this trilogy when I get a chance. If you wonder why, please don't ask.
Davíd arrived on a boat that came across the sea of forgetfulness. This happens to everyone; they pass from one life to the next and have only the vaguest memory of having had a previous life, with different parents, in a different place. Davíd's mother and father did not come, so he was taken under the wing of Simón and Inés, who also had drifted together in the confusion and perplexity of the journey. They are not his parents and do not pretend to be. They are not a couple and do not pretend to be. Inés is deeply suspicious of passion. Simón is a literalist with little imagination but a big heart. And Davíd is a six-year-old ("almost seven!") who asks lots and lots and lots of questions.
As he is nearly seven, it is time for Davíd to go to school. But which should they choose? Davíd sings beautifully but does not wish to enter the Acadamy of Music. He is bright and it is felt that the public schools may not challenge him enough. They are also fugitives from the law because they are not Davíd's true parents and fear that he might be recognized in that setting. This leaves the Acadamy of Dance, of which Davíd is skeptical, but they are running out of options, and at the interview he becomes enthralled with Ana Magdalena Arroyo, who will be his teacher. Usually somewhat truculent and used to having his own way, Davíd is markedly subdued and pliant in her presence; it is decided, he will attend the Academy of Dance.
But not is all as it appears at the Academy, and soon everything will change and grow more confusing for little Davíd, who will continue to incessantly ask questions about the why of it and how everything works. He is particularly interested in the workings of passion in adult humans. A crime is committed which must be expiated, but about which there must be a great deal of talk first.
I will admit this is a book I admired a great deal more than I enjoyed. I would label this magical realism if I had to choose a name for it. It is also deeply allegorical, though the title leaves little doubt what the allegory is. It is clever and sweet and charming. It is disarming in its simplicity. But in fact very little happens in a traditional sense, and there really is quite a bit of philosophizing and navel-gazing. And, as noted above, Davíd is a veritable font of questions; typical for a six-year-old, no doubt, but sometimes it gets to be a bit much. Simón clearly has more patience than I do (though it is not inexhaustible).
Still, this is a fine book of its type and I intend to pick up the other two volumes of this trilogy when I get a chance. If you wonder why, please don't ask.