'IT IS NOT modish in polite society today to introduce somebody by their nationality, even worse to affix a definite article in front. One impeaches oneself as provincial when subscribing too rigidly to the importance of borders. So J. M. Coetzee, the South African writer who now lives in Australia, has chosen a crotchety title for his most recent novella:
The Pole. Under this banner he suggests to the world again a general atmosphere of existential homelessness for his characters, a sense of time out of joint.'
(Introduction)