The Slow Man by JM Coetzee

I "avoided" reading JM Coetzee for a long time. Because I came to know of him after he got the Nobel Prize. I thought he might be pretentious and stuffy and all that...yet, now and then I would read snippets of reviews of his works...

It was not till I read the excellent review of his "Diary of a Bad Year" in the New Yorker that I decided to embark upon one if his books I've had with me for a while now..."Slow Man."

I came out of the experience deeply impressed by his style, his restraint in storytelling, his searing honesty in portraying the commonest of emotions. Quite like Jose Saramago, his prose seemed monologue-ish, the actual, subterranean thoughts that keep running in our minds in italics after the expression of something innocuous, something false, something that does not express out inner feelings...