The aftermath of David Lurie's affair with Melanie Isaacs is, overall, expected. The two are found out and Lurie faces professional consequences--as anyone would in such a situation. His charges are clear: he abused the relationship of professor and student by having an intimate relationship with one of his students. Common situation, common punishment. That is until Lurie is actually brought before the council that is given the job of assessing his situation and recommending a punishment.
Previous to this scene, it's clear that David Lurie is a man of feeling. He frequently acts on impluses, whether they be romantic or otherwise. He puts heavy emotional investment in poetry, an art form he deems to describe the human condition better than any other. His desires drive him, a fact which has led to two failed marriages and an apparent string of short relationships with women that he can't resist.
It's not until his hearing, which is attended by work colleagues and strangers alike, that we see another side of David Lurie: that of a man of conviction. Even before the meeting that will decide the rest of his academic career, Lurie is in surprisingly high spirits. The book notes that "he has slept well" and further that "He is going in to this in the wrong spirit. But he does not care", referring to the fact that he is not nervous or filled with foreboding before the hearing (47). It's here that we first get a hint of the sheer tenacity of David Lurie.
Shortly in to the hearing, after having the charges against him presented, Lurie says something that completely sold him to me as a character: "I am sure the members of this committee have better things to do with their time than rehash a story over which there will be no dispute. I plead guilty to both charges. Pass sentence, and let us get on with our lives" (48). The feeling and principle behind that statement just floor me. Here's Lurie placed before a committee that has the power to effectively ruin his academic career, and what does he do? He doesn't grovel, he doesn't plead, he doesn't haggle. He stands by his actions. He then goes on to be borderline hostile, rejecting any under the table deals he might be able to get and attacking any accusation that portrays him as something other than a man of sound mind who is responsible for his own actions. Lurie even refuses the submission of a statement that could potentially save his job, on the grounds that it goes against his view on the situation and would require him to admit to motives that were untrue.
What this scene does for me is help to bring who David Lurie is in to focus. It's easy to write him off as a man fueled by desire, the flames of which eventually consume his professional life. I would be willing to contest that, had it not been for the hearing scene. Lurie may act on impulse and some of his actions may be inappropriate--but he owns them. When pushed in to a corner he didn't try to make excuses for himself or plead his way out of a sticky situation, he told his story exactly as is with no apologies and no theatrics--even though he knew it would probably cost him his career. He knows his relationship with Melanie had crossed a line, but he doesn't let that get in the way of taking responsibility for what he has done.
He may be a creature of passion who makes frequent mistakes as a result, but David Lurie is also a man of conviction and principle. I enjoy David Lurie as a character because of this. I guess you could say I enjoy him because I respect him. Disgrace is ultimately the tale of a man trying to make sense of his life even as it seems to come apart around him, even as his passions are quelled and those he loves are hurt. Throughout the novel however Lurie is able to take solace in the fact that he owns his actions and has accepted that he has to live with the consequences. That alone I feel makes him a strong protagonist.
Here's the scene from the film adaptation where Lurie is talking to his daughter about the dog their neighbors used to have. A commentary on desire and one's own nature, another one of my favorites.
Previous to this scene, it's clear that David Lurie is a man of feeling. He frequently acts on impluses, whether they be romantic or otherwise. He puts heavy emotional investment in poetry, an art form he deems to describe the human condition better than any other. His desires drive him, a fact which has led to two failed marriages and an apparent string of short relationships with women that he can't resist.
It's not until his hearing, which is attended by work colleagues and strangers alike, that we see another side of David Lurie: that of a man of conviction. Even before the meeting that will decide the rest of his academic career, Lurie is in surprisingly high spirits. The book notes that "he has slept well" and further that "He is going in to this in the wrong spirit. But he does not care", referring to the fact that he is not nervous or filled with foreboding before the hearing (47). It's here that we first get a hint of the sheer tenacity of David Lurie.
Shortly in to the hearing, after having the charges against him presented, Lurie says something that completely sold him to me as a character: "I am sure the members of this committee have better things to do with their time than rehash a story over which there will be no dispute. I plead guilty to both charges. Pass sentence, and let us get on with our lives" (48). The feeling and principle behind that statement just floor me. Here's Lurie placed before a committee that has the power to effectively ruin his academic career, and what does he do? He doesn't grovel, he doesn't plead, he doesn't haggle. He stands by his actions. He then goes on to be borderline hostile, rejecting any under the table deals he might be able to get and attacking any accusation that portrays him as something other than a man of sound mind who is responsible for his own actions. Lurie even refuses the submission of a statement that could potentially save his job, on the grounds that it goes against his view on the situation and would require him to admit to motives that were untrue.
What this scene does for me is help to bring who David Lurie is in to focus. It's easy to write him off as a man fueled by desire, the flames of which eventually consume his professional life. I would be willing to contest that, had it not been for the hearing scene. Lurie may act on impulse and some of his actions may be inappropriate--but he owns them. When pushed in to a corner he didn't try to make excuses for himself or plead his way out of a sticky situation, he told his story exactly as is with no apologies and no theatrics--even though he knew it would probably cost him his career. He knows his relationship with Melanie had crossed a line, but he doesn't let that get in the way of taking responsibility for what he has done.
He may be a creature of passion who makes frequent mistakes as a result, but David Lurie is also a man of conviction and principle. I enjoy David Lurie as a character because of this. I guess you could say I enjoy him because I respect him. Disgrace is ultimately the tale of a man trying to make sense of his life even as it seems to come apart around him, even as his passions are quelled and those he loves are hurt. Throughout the novel however Lurie is able to take solace in the fact that he owns his actions and has accepted that he has to live with the consequences. That alone I feel makes him a strong protagonist.
Here's the scene from the film adaptation where Lurie is talking to his daughter about the dog their neighbors used to have. A commentary on desire and one's own nature, another one of my favorites.
I think it is interesting that you say you respect Lurie. You could tell this also by your comments in class. I also respect his battle that he has in defining the meaning of human life. In reality he is just searching. He never does anything intentionally wrong. Never commits any crimes he believes to be morally wrong. And is his issues are in his own morality then he only has his humanity to blame, a theme that I think is very present in the novel.
ReplyDelete