Present Joys and Future Griefs

Our book club has just completed a discussion of J. M. Coetzee's latest novel, Diary of a Bad Year. Its format is creative since it tells three stories simultaneously. At the top of each page, the narrator has an essay on a variety of topics, including politics, probability, birds, and so on. In the middle of the page, the dialogue centers on conversations between the narrator and his secretary-typist. At the bottom of the page, the conversations occur between the secretary-typist and her lover. Strangely enough, the novel works and a complete story is told. One of the essays that I found fascinating as a novice writer myself is that on the techniques of the masters of literature: Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Homer. At one point, Coetzee states, "Behind every paragraph the reader ought to to be able to hear the music of present joy and future grief." As illustrations, he speaks of Hector's father asking the king for his son's body and one of the characters from War and Peace getting his horse ready for battle on the day that he will die.

I believe Coetzee has captured the reason why so many modern authors are unable to reach the pinnacle of writing success that the old masters did from the literary canon. The works fail to achieve dramatic irony that tugs on the hearts of readers as they read about characters' "present joy and future grief." I wonder if our writing classes should focus on achieving this technique. The closest writer I have read recently who is able to still accomplish this goal is Wendell Berry. In his small novel Hannah Coulter, he writes of a young man saying goodbye to his new wife, the poignancy of the moment, and the complete unawareness that he was soon to become listed as Missing in Action--"present joy and future grief." I agree that few writers however, as Coetzee reiterates, can accomplish this goal.