want to bring against him but refuses to say he regrets the experience. He is thus terminated from his position without benefits.

Lurie leaves the city to go to his daughter Lucy’s small landholding near Salem in the uplands of the Eastern Cape. Lucy has been living there with another woman who has now gone, and Lucy is alone, making a little money from a dog kennel and raising flowers and garden crops which she sells at a Saturday market in a nearby town. She has had some help from an Afrikaner named Petrus who lives in her old stable with a wife and children; he has another wife and more children in the city. Lucy has sold him some of her land, and it becomes increasingly clear that he is ambitious and eventually intends to buy her out although she does not want to leave. Petrus is building a new house and sees himself and his people as the rightful inheritors of the country.

Lurie has not been there long before three black natives, two men and a boy, come to the house, kill the dogs in the kennel, throw acid on Lurie’s head, beat him and lock him up, repeatedly rape Lucy, and steal Lurie’s car and whatever else they want. Lucy refuses to tell the police about the rape or to talk about it with her father. The attackers are not caught, and none of the property is ever recovered. The boy in the trio is seen at Petrus’s new house; he is a distant relative, and Lucy knows there can be neither legal nor unofficial recourse against him because he is under Petrus’s protection.

Nothing works out well. Lucy draws into herself like a recluse. Lurie’s “hard skull” is now covered with bandages, and an ear is half eaten away by the acid. He finds himself spending days at the unlicensed animal clinic run by Bev Shaw and her husband, helping out as he can. He soon realizes that the clinic has virtually no means of helping the animals and serves basically as a place where the natives dump their unwanted dogs and other sick animals for Bev to dispose of. She tries to comfort the animals in their dying as she fatally injects them; part of David sees this as humane, and another part of him sees it as evil, as though Bev is self-deluded but basically egotistical in her role as “mercy killer.” He wraps the dead bodies and loads them into the town incinerator himself, rather than having the garbage workers indifferently toss them in with the other refuse, though he knows it is too late to make any difference to the animals. One day Bev presents herself to Lurie as a lover, and he has sex with her a few times, fatalistically telling himself this unattractive married woman and animal executioner is the best he can ever again expect.

Lucy wants Lurie to leave, and after less than three months he heads back to Cape Town, stopping along the way to see Melanie’s father, who essentially tells him “no forgiveness.” Lurie’s house has been vandalized, and no one wants to see him. He goes to a play in which Melanie is appearing, and her boyfriend sees him in the audience and throws spit wads at him until Lurie leaves. Alone in his empty house, he begins working on a project about which he had been thinking for some time, a libretto for an opera about George Gordon, Lord Byron’s last months in Italy and his last mistress. It occupies his mind, but, as in everything else in his world, it does not work out to be anything like he had planned or hoped.

In the midst of all this, he hears from his daughter again. She is pregnant from the rapists. She intends to have the baby. Petrus has suggested she marry him (wife number three). She asks Lurie to negotiate with Petrus, saying she will give Petrus her land if he will let her stay in the farmhouse and be under his protection, though not his wife. Lurie returns to the uplands and rents a tiny room near the clinic, ready to help Bev’s work and Lucy’s situation as best he can. He works on the doomed opera for a while before scrapping it as a failure. His only mild comfort is a crippled dog that seems to enjoy his company. He knows he will have to give up the dog soon, and though he could keep it a little longer, the novel ends with him taking it in to Bev for the fatal needle. “Yes, I am giving him up,” he says.

The “disgrace” of the title has many ramifications in this bleak and haunting novel. Essentially the novel suggests, as noted by Salonreviewer Andrew O’Hehir, “that political change can do almost nothing to eliminate misery.” As in the earlier Life and Times of Michael K, O’Hehir writes, the protagonist “is broken down almost to nothing” and the only “tiny measure of redemption” is his “forced acceptance” of what is. “One gets used to things getting harder; one ceases to be surprised that what used to be as hard as hard can be grows harder yet,” David Lurie reflects. In the new South Africa—or elsewhere in the world—Coetzee suggests, brutal anarchy is no better than brutal tyranny. People are victimized, as are animals; indeed, human treatment of animals is an allegoric icon of their treatment of each other, even of their attitudes toward themselves.

In Disgrace, the ideals of the Romantic poets are long gone, including romantic love. In fact, the text suggests, the Romantic poets themselves in their actual lives were not saved either by romantic love or by their ideals. If there was any true salvation, it was in their writing. This belief in the power of writing could apply to Coetzee too. However, if David Lurie finds any self-dignity at the end of the novel, it is only through repeated renunciation, giving up everything, including his writing.

Even early on Professor Lurie had thought the Communications 101 handbook preposterous when it said humans created language in order to communicate with each other. He believes instead that the origins of speech lie in song, and song comes from “the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.” As a reviewer in The New Yorker put it, Coetzee condenses metafictional and moral concerns in his prose, including the cathartic potential of art as set against brute actuality; Disgrace is a spiritual document, a lament for the soul of a disgraced century.

There is virtually no disagreement that Coetzee demonstrates his skill as a brilliant stylist in this lean, spare novel. The question remains, however, whether or not Coetzee’s tone and message are too bleak to be redemptive. Is this a work to which readers can return again and again, receiving illumination for their lives? Is it one in which the cynicism of despair pulls too seductively, rather like the possibility that Bev Shaw at some twisted level enjoys her role as dog destroyer? For really, to say David Lurie gives up the crippled dog before he needs to, without thought for himself, as though this were a virtue, is surely to miss the fact that it is also done without thought for the dog.

Sources for Further Study

The Christian Science Monitor, November 10, 1999, p. 20.

Los Angeles Times Book Review, December 12, 1999, p. 2.

New Statesman 12 (October 18, 1999): 57.

The New York Times, November 11, 1999, p. B10.

The New Yorker 75 (November 15, 1999): 110.

Newsweek 134 (November 15, 1999): 90.

Time 154 (November 29, 1999): 82.

The Wall Street Journal, November 26, 1999, p. W8.

Coetzee lets the characters express themselves mainly through dialogue, with minimal interference from the author. The narrative is largely seen through David Lurie's perspective, and his thoughts are frequently shared. This creates a sense of distance from the other characters as Lurie tries to comprehend his own emotions regarding his situation and subsequently understand the actions of others. As the novel progresses, Lurie increasingly retreats into his opera. By the end of the book, entire chapters are dedicated to the opera, giving it more prominence in the story. The female voice, as expressed through Lurie and the opera, becomes more pronounced as the narrative shifts focus to her. Coetzee uses the opera to illustrate Lurie's transformation, reflected in his evolving approach to the opera and its development. The story of the aging mistress and the lost poet parallels the upheavals in Lurie's life, almost extinguishing his poetic voice.

Coetzee is recognized as one of South Africa's leading authors. While his fiction doesn't always occur within South Africa, this story prominently features the city and countryside of Cape Town. The nation is striving to recover from apartheid, and its lingering effects are evident. The narrative emphasizes the importance of social and personal transformation, exploring how individuals adjust to various tragedies. The main action revolves around uncovering methods for coping with challenges.

1. Throughout the story, Coetzee exclusively refers to Lurie as "he." The reader learns his name only through the dialogue of other characters. Why might Coetzee choose this approach? Additionally, what significance might there be in Lucy addressing her father by his first name?

2. Lurie's approach to women and sex is somewhat nonchalant. Would you label Lurie a misogynist? How would you characterize his reaction to the rape accusations?

3. Why does Lurie choose not to speak in his own defense during the trial? What is Coetzee aiming to achieve with this turn of events?

4. When Lurie visits the Isaacs at their home, Mr. Isaacs asks whom Lurie wants to apologize to. Who do you believe Lurie was intending to apologize to? Why does David Lurie visit Mr. Isaacs in his office and subsequently accept the dinner invitation?

5. Is there any importance to the dissolution of the Classics and Modern Languages department and the other changes at Lurie's university? How are these changes significant in the context of this particular city and time?

6. Research apartheid and South Africa's current situation. Does Coetzee accurately depict the issues and challenges South Africa is facing?

7. What is the meaning of the animal shelter? What do the dogs symbolize throughout the story?

8. Why does Coetzee choose Byron as the subject for Lurie's opera? Why focus Lurie's creative efforts on this specific story?

Disgrace focuses on David Lurie, a man who is well-established in both his personal and professional life, but who quickly learns that all comforts can vanish in an instant. Lurie is a professor at a university in Cape Town, South Africa. Throughout the story, he undergoes substantial transformation. The university he works at has recently undergone significant changes; it is no longer Cape Town University College but has been rebranded as Cape Town Technical University. Furthermore, his department, previously known as Classics and Modern Languages, has been completely dismantled, leaving him with only a couple of Communications classes to teach. These changes in Lurie’s life mirror the evolving political and social landscape of South Africa. As apartheid is increasingly recognized as an unjust social structure, the social fabric of the country is being reshaped. This is particularly evident in the relationship between Lurie’s daughter, Lucy, a white woman, and Petrus, a black man, as they navigate their new roles in a post-apartheid society. As the novel progresses, Petrus transitions from being Lucy's employee to becoming a landowner himself. Lurie represents the old order, grappling with his distrust of Petrus and disapproval of Petrus's new status. He must adapt to the changing realities of the countryside and the evolving physical and social identity of his daughter, as well as her relationship with Petrus.

In this straightforward tale of a man's indiscretion and its aftermath, Coetzee delves into the complex binary relationships that define contemporary South African life. The novel examines dynamics between male and female, parent and child, urban and rural, black and white, and employer and employee, all from slightly unconventional perspectives. Coetzee aims to deconstruct these binaries by challenging common perceptions. Lurie's actions can be seen as both traditional and nontraditional, depending on the context and the individuals involved, allowing readers to view these relationships from multiple angles. In a South Africa experiencing significant instability, individual reactions to this uncertainty form many of the story’s socially intriguing elements. David Lurie’s actions, along with the reactions of those around him, highlight the ways people seek stability in a rapidly changing world. When physical safety, such as that of Lurie’s or his daughter’s home, is compromised, emotional and mental security is also at risk.

Although the narrative is set in Cape Town and its nearby regions, and many elements are unique to this society, Coetzee's insights can be applied far beyond this particular locale. Lurie's response to life changes—whether due to societal transformations or universal experiences like aging—serves as an example of one person's coping mechanisms.

Lurie attempts to sustain his status in life, particularly his sexual conquests. These efforts fail in various ways: Soraya, his mistress, refuses to see him, and Melanie, a student he exploits, and her family press charges. His misguided attempts to manipulate the situation by removing it from its proper context lead to these failures. By trying to control others' lives and not allowing them to respond naturally to his actions, Lurie brings about the collapse of his own comfortable existence.

He increases his discomfort by staying in the countryside with his daughter and revisiting the Isaacs family. At the novel's outset, Lurie deals with superficial aspects of life, but following an attack by three young men in the country, he starts to engage on a deeper level, viewing life from multiple perspectives.

Coetzee stands out as one of the most notable South African authors in recent years. To explore the other perspective of apartheid, Mark Mathabane's The Kaffir Boy narrates his experiences growing up as a black boy in South Africa during apartheid. This book offers an additional viewpoint on South African stories and serves as a counterbalance to Lurie's attitude towards Petrus and his traditions.

Disgrace marks Coetzee's eighth novel. Another notable work, Foe, similarly delves into male-female dynamics by introducing a female character, Susan Barton, into Defoe's narrative of Robinson Crusoe. Narrated from Susan's perspective, the story presents a compelling interaction between man and woman both on the island and later in society. Coetzee uses their relationships to examine the creative process, particularly the essence of writing and communication.

Susan's bond with Friday becomes particularly intricate following Crusoe's death, as they strive to recount the island's story. When Susan approaches writer Daniel Foe to document their tale, he is reluctant. The resulting dynamics among the three characters craft a fascinating narrative involving themes of gender and race, shaping the account of their island experiences.

These themes resonate in Disgrace through David Lurie's journey of teaching communications courses and his efforts to compose an opera. He endeavors to capture the surrounding music and words, channeling them into the story of Byron and his mistress.