The Death of Jesus (Jesus trilogy #3)

In Cervantes’s lifetime, Christ must have been too much for many to remember, let alone to understand or follow. So, don Miguel wrote Don Quixote. Christ shines through the beautiful craziness of that novel. If in doubt, read another don Miguel – de Unamuno – to find out. In the lifetime of Coetzee (and ours), Don Quixote has become too much for most to remember, let alone to understand or follow. Then, through the text of Coetzee’s three novels comes David, a boy from faraway shores, whose father is not his real father (like, by the way, Cervantes was not for Don Quixote, just read the introduction) who teaches himself how to read by reading and memorizing Don Quixote, and who, on his deathbed, tells parable-like stories about the knight to the admiring crowd of children. Coetzee gives us David and his no-father father Simon, and through their story – a glimpse of Don Quixote and his eternal source. When they ban the Bible, and when they ban Cervantes, Coetzee, hopefully, will still be available. And when they ban Coetzee, some Spanish-speaking boy will come from faraway shores who will somehow tell stories about a crazy knight and his fight against the windmills, of which now there are so many. And the boy will say, as did Coetzee’s David, and as did someone else, “I am who I am.”

A very disappointing finale to the “Jesus” trilogy. What on earth was this whole thing about? An annoying ingrate who talks and acts like a spoiled Park Avenue brat, and an author enamored with his “brilliance” which is only obvious to him.

I love so many earlier books of the author that I hesitated to write these words. The Life and Times of Michael K, Waiting for the Barbarians, Master of St Petersburg, Disgrace and Foe are masterpieces deserving the accolades awarded to them and the Nobel Prize for the author. I wish people learn how to stop while they are ahead.

Continuing from the Childhood of Jesus we learn about how the knowledge of Christ was too much for him, and forced his death.

I had already read the first two. Although published as three novels, I don’t think they are really independent enough to be read individually. “The Death of Jesus” is full of references to the first two books.

I approached Coetzee simply as “a famous author I hadn’t read.” I found all three books, including this one, to be readable, (forgive me) entertaining, and enjoyable simply as stories. I cared about the characters. The strangely disconnected series of events had a certain “yes, this is the way life is” quality to it. The characters and relationships seemed meaningful to me.

Hopefully, you will already be aware that the book does not mention Jesus at all, and that the parallels (if any) between the boy, “David,” and the Jesus are unclear and enigmatic–to say the least. I’m not equipped to read the book as any kind of allegory. I take it that there are a fair number of Coetzee fans who do, and are annoyed by this trilogy as being some kind of poorly constructed and uncrackable puzzle. I don’t know if David is Jesus. I don’t know who Simn and Ins are supposed to be. I don’t know if Dmitri is Satan or what. I don’t know if Dr. Fabricante is a Good Guy or a Bad Guy. I don’t know why the English-speaking Coetzee set the story in an imaginary Spanish-speaking country.

Marianne Moore said that the purpose of poetry was to give us “imaginary gardens with real toads in them,” and for me these books provided that.

So, look, I’m just going to say it. I treated the three books of the “Jesus” trilogy as light summer reading. Page-turners, haunting, melancholy, and entertaining. They kept me reading. I enjoyed them. I didn’t feel cheated (or rewarded) at the end. I recommend them.

Not everyone can cope with Coetzee but Ive really got a lot from his Jesus trilogy. One has to get into a different headspace and landscape. Its a bit like being inside an alien headspace! Being John Coetzee. Or on a journey with Don Quixote. Theres story but also lots of exploration of the meaning of life. Or the non-meaning of life. Coetzee explores the meaning of a world empty of meaning, but brimming with questions.

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