One of the good things about writing reviews long after a book is read is that one usually only focuses on the items that stick in the mind. The downside is that if the book doesn’t have any stickiness, the review can be quite quick.

Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee kind of falls in that quick category and is also like a good meal. You definitely know that you liked it and you would go back to the restaurant, but you are unable to pinpoint exactly what it was that you enjoyed about the food. With Scorch Atlas, I could tell you want I did or did not like about the book. Both types have their own ways of hanging on to me.

Let me give you a plot summary: A South African professor has an affair with a student and leaves his position. He goes to live with his hippy daughter on her farm and learns that the black-and-white world in South Africa is flip flopping. Basically, what was once the status quo is now old hat.

What I most enjoyed about Disgrace was that reading it was effortless in that I was never awakened from the fictional dream. I found myself staying up late at night wanting to know what would happen next to the professor. I felt that the writer did a great job balancing character and plot, and I would definitely read another of his novels. Other than that, though, I’m unable to go into much more detail. It was just good. Can’t that be enough sometimes?

Perhaps I should add that Coetzee’s prose was smooth and traditional—not that there is anything wrong with traditional. In fact, I most often prefer story over syntax. Whereas, Coetzee spins a good story, a writer such as Scorch Atlas‘ Blake Butler deals in sentence theatrics. Both have their pros and cons.