July 13, 2009

Foe

Day by day the wind picks at the roof and the weeds creep across the terraces. In a year, in ten years, there will be nothing left standing but a circle of sticks to mark the place where the hut stood, and of the terraces only the walls. And of the walls they will say, These are cannibal walls, the ruins of a cannibal city, from the golden age of the cannibals. For who will believe they were built by one man and a slave, in the hope that one day a seafarer would come with a sack of corn for them to sow?
–J.M. Coetzee (1986)

posted by in books, fiction, literature | * | 5 comments 

comments

  1. Deron Bauman on July 13th, 2009 at 7:52 pm

    that’s beautiful.

  2. Sheila Ryan on July 13th, 2009 at 7:56 pm

    Thank you for reminding me of Coetzee.

  3. Rick Neece on July 13th, 2009 at 8:28 pm

    Ooo, Cooper! I taste it. I don’t know Coetzee. I will look for more.

  4. Coop on July 13th, 2009 at 10:39 pm

    This one’s a sort of take-off on Robinson Crusoe, told by a woman shipwrecked on the island as well and who gives the story to DeFoe.

  5. Kelsey Parker on July 14th, 2009 at 3:22 pm

    Thank you for sharing this, Coop. Lovely.

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