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Coetzee’s most enjoyable book. ‘Enjoyable� seems to be a dirty word in some quarters, especially when discussing the work of Nobel Prize winners. It’s the second in his sequence of ‘autofictions� - not quite novels, not quite memoirs. In Youth, no smog of learning or ‘post-modern� trickery obscures the view.

It’s easily his funniest book, and ‘funny� isn’t a word used often about Coetzee. That seems a pity: as with Coetzee’s hero Samuel Beckett, humour is never an end in itself. Humour is used to confront, purge, liberate. Michael K and Disgrace can stay on the shelves. I’m taking this to the desert island.