By comparison with the acclaim for Disgrace, and the respectful reception of Boyhood: Scenes from Provincial Life, Youth has been met here with some disappointed and negative reviews ('a tortuous exercise in intellectual introspection, and not much else'; 'as fiction it is so interior and cerebral, it fails to engage'; 'not wholly satisfactory as either novel or memoir'). Is the tide turning against Coetzee? Or is this darkly teasing little book really so much worse than its predecessors? It's not as if we expected to be charmed. The drab early 1960s London setting is as grim as Coetzee's South Africa ever was; the cold, dysfunctional, misogynist central character, John, is as compromised and unappealing as the disgraced David Lurie. But perhaps Youth is being taken too seriously, and we are meant to mock this grim young man and the Conradian title that portentously frames his rite of passage.

LRB 11 July 2002 | PDF Download