Disgrace

In this scene, Lucy tells David that he ought to do something with his time. Because they have been getting in frequent arguments around the house, he accepts that he needs something to keep him busy, but when Lucy suggests that he volunteer at the Animal Welfare League with Bev Shaw, he is skeptical, since this would mean helping others. His skepticism arises from the fact that he is quite averse to the idea of change, immediately disliking anything that might seem like he’s trying to atone for his “past misdeeds.” This refusal to change is yet another way of avoiding ever having to examine himself and his shortcomings, since becoming “a better person” would mean reckoning with his mistakes. “I am not prepared to be reformed,” he tells Lucy, saying that he wants to “go on being” himself. As such, he once again commits himself to the idea that he’s beyond the reach of rehabilitation and personal atonement—a belief that enables him to continue living his life in a complacent manner.

This passage occurs after Bill Shaw picks David up from the hospital and, when David thanks him, says, “What else are friends for?” After Lucy’s farm is attacked by three strangers, Lucy fetches Ettinger, who drives them off the farm and brings David to the hospital before taking Lucy to the police station. When David emerges, he’s surprised to find Bill waiting for him, since he doesn’t think of Bill as a close friend. In fact, he has only had one real interaction with Bill, and didn’t even take a liking to him. David finds both Bill and his wife, Bev, rather plain, and has gone out of his way to express this to Lucy, as if it’s not enough to inwardly dislike them. Now, though, he finds himself benefitting from Bill’s kindness, a fact that encourages him to consider how he perceives friendship. A selfish man himself, it’s almost unfathomable to David that Bill would feel any sort of “obligation” to help him. And yet, he can’t deny that he would be completely down on his luck if it weren’t for people like Bill and Ettinger, both of whom have helped him and Lucy immensely in the aftermath of the attack. Given that Disgrace is a novel that explores the ways in which people support one another, this passage is worth noting, since Bill’s kindness provides a stark contrast to David’s self-centered worldview, emphasizing the extent to which David is unused to existing in healthy, supportive relationships.

In this conversation, David speaks to Bev Shaw about Lucy. Because he feels as if he can’t connect with his daughter, he voices his concern to Bev, but she only tells him that she has been through quite a lot. In response, he bitterly says that he knows what Lucy has “been through” because he “was there.” In response, she makes the reasonable point that he wasn’t actually there. After all, David was locked in the bathroom while the three men raped Lucy. However, this logic frustrates David, who thinks that he doesn’t need to have actually witnessed what happened in order to understand his daughter’s trauma. “What more could he have witnessed than he is capable of imagining?” he wonders. What this approach fails to take into account is the fact that “witness[ing]” a horrific act isn’t the same as experiencing it for oneself. It might be the case that David has a good idea of what Lucy had to endure, but this doesn’t mean he truly knows what it was like for her to be raped. Rather than stopping to consider this, though, he focuses only on the fact that he is “outraged at being treated like an outsider.” Once again, then, he fails to embody the kind of unimposing support that Lucy clearly requires during this period, fixating on his own involvement in the event rather than paying attention to how he can give Lucy what she needs.

In the aftermath of the attack, David spends much of his time helping Bev Shaw. In addition to helping her put down the many dogs in the shelter, he takes it upon himself to drive the bodies to a nearby incinerator. When he stops to reflect upon this bleak task, he considers the fact that “there must be other, more productive ways of giving oneself to the world.” This suggests that he is—for perhaps the first time—trying to change, at least in some small way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be thinking about the best way to make use of himself. Interestingly enough, he recognizes that most of the jobs he might be inclined to do are all tasks that multiple people are willing to take upon themselves. As such, he chooses a thankless duty, telling himself that “there is no one else stupid enough to do it.” However, while this might seem like a selfless act, it’s worth noting that David seemingly derives a sense of perverse satisfaction from the fact that he’s the only person willing to take the dogs to the incinerator. In this way, he fashions himself into something of a martyr, taking an odd kind of pride in the deranged “honour” of disposing of dead dogs. It seems he has overcompensated for his wrongdoings, trying a bit too hard to demonstrate his repentance—so hard that one might naturally wonder if he’s trying to cover up a lack of genuine remorse.

In this passage, David lies next to Bev Shaw after having just had sex with her, and feels sorry for himself. “Let me not forget this day,” he thinks, considering the fact that he has now slept with a woman he clearly believes is inferior to him. He laments the fact that he has gone from sleeping with “the sweet young flesh of Melanie Isaacs” to sleeping with Bev, who he thinks is painfully simple and unattractive. As he continues to think in this manner, he lets Bev do whatever she wants, not caring if she studies his body or puts her head to his chest. In this regard, he sees himself as a prize, clearly thinking that he’s doing Bev a kindness by letting her see him naked. What he doesn’t stop to consider, though, is that he is no doubt getting just as much enjoyment out of their relationship, since she is—at this point in the novel—the only person willing to give him any comfort or support; he’s not currently on good terms with Lucy. When he thinks about Emma Bovary—the protagonist of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary—he accentuates the idea that Bev is elated to “have” him as a “lover.” However, he then begins to grasp the fact that his conception of her is quite disparaging, realizing that he shouldn’t call her “poor Bev Shaw.” In turn, readers see that David is aware of his own vanity, which often causes him to think of himself as superior to others. In this moment, though, he finally admits his own shortcomings.

In this scene, Lucy tells David that he ought to do something with his time. Because they have been getting in frequent arguments around the house, he accepts that he needs something to keep him busy, but when Lucy suggests that he volunteer at the Animal Welfare League with Bev Shaw, he is skeptical, since this would mean helping others. His skepticism arises from the fact that he is quite averse to the idea of change, immediately disliking anything that might seem like he’s trying to atone for his “past misdeeds.” This refusal to change is yet another way of avoiding ever having to examine himself and his shortcomings, since becoming “a better person” would mean reckoning with his mistakes. “I am not prepared to be reformed,” he tells Lucy, saying that he wants to “go on being” himself. As such, he once again commits himself to the idea that he’s beyond the reach of rehabilitation and personal atonement—a belief that enables him to continue living his life in a complacent manner.

This passage occurs after Bill Shaw picks David up from the hospital and, when David thanks him, says, “What else are friends for?” After Lucy’s farm is attacked by three strangers, Lucy fetches Ettinger, who drives them off the farm and brings David to the hospital before taking Lucy to the police station. When David emerges, he’s surprised to find Bill waiting for him, since he doesn’t think of Bill as a close friend. In fact, he has only had one real interaction with Bill, and didn’t even take a liking to him. David finds both Bill and his wife, Bev, rather plain, and has gone out of his way to express this to Lucy, as if it’s not enough to inwardly dislike them. Now, though, he finds himself benefitting from Bill’s kindness, a fact that encourages him to consider how he perceives friendship. A selfish man himself, it’s almost unfathomable to David that Bill would feel any sort of “obligation” to help him. And yet, he can’t deny that he would be completely down on his luck if it weren’t for people like Bill and Ettinger, both of whom have helped him and Lucy immensely in the aftermath of the attack. Given that Disgrace is a novel that explores the ways in which people support one another, this passage is worth noting, since Bill’s kindness provides a stark contrast to David’s self-centered worldview, emphasizing the extent to which David is unused to existing in healthy, supportive relationships.

In this conversation, David speaks to Bev Shaw about Lucy. Because he feels as if he can’t connect with his daughter, he voices his concern to Bev, but she only tells him that she has been through quite a lot. In response, he bitterly says that he knows what Lucy has “been through” because he “was there.” In response, she makes the reasonable point that he wasn’t actually there. After all, David was locked in the bathroom while the three men raped Lucy. However, this logic frustrates David, who thinks that he doesn’t need to have actually witnessed what happened in order to understand his daughter’s trauma. “What more could he have witnessed than he is capable of imagining?” he wonders. What this approach fails to take into account is the fact that “witness[ing]” a horrific act isn’t the same as experiencing it for oneself. It might be the case that David has a good idea of what Lucy had to endure, but this doesn’t mean he truly knows what it was like for her to be raped. Rather than stopping to consider this, though, he focuses only on the fact that he is “outraged at being treated like an outsider.” Once again, then, he fails to embody the kind of unimposing support that Lucy clearly requires during this period, fixating on his own involvement in the event rather than paying attention to how he can give Lucy what she needs.

In the aftermath of the attack, David spends much of his time helping Bev Shaw. In addition to helping her put down the many dogs in the shelter, he takes it upon himself to drive the bodies to a nearby incinerator. When he stops to reflect upon this bleak task, he considers the fact that “there must be other, more productive ways of giving oneself to the world.” This suggests that he is—for perhaps the first time—trying to change, at least in some small way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be thinking about the best way to make use of himself. Interestingly enough, he recognizes that most of the jobs he might be inclined to do are all tasks that multiple people are willing to take upon themselves. As such, he chooses a thankless duty, telling himself that “there is no one else stupid enough to do it.” However, while this might seem like a selfless act, it’s worth noting that David seemingly derives a sense of perverse satisfaction from the fact that he’s the only person willing to take the dogs to the incinerator. In this way, he fashions himself into something of a martyr, taking an odd kind of pride in the deranged “honour” of disposing of dead dogs. It seems he has overcompensated for his wrongdoings, trying a bit too hard to demonstrate his repentance—so hard that one might naturally wonder if he’s trying to cover up a lack of genuine remorse.

In this passage, David lies next to Bev Shaw after having just had sex with her, and feels sorry for himself. “Let me not forget this day,” he thinks, considering the fact that he has now slept with a woman he clearly believes is inferior to him. He laments the fact that he has gone from sleeping with “the sweet young flesh of Melanie Isaacs” to sleeping with Bev, who he thinks is painfully simple and unattractive. As he continues to think in this manner, he lets Bev do whatever she wants, not caring if she studies his body or puts her head to his chest. In this regard, he sees himself as a prize, clearly thinking that he’s doing Bev a kindness by letting her see him naked. What he doesn’t stop to consider, though, is that he is no doubt getting just as much enjoyment out of their relationship, since she is—at this point in the novel—the only person willing to give him any comfort or support; he’s not currently on good terms with Lucy. When he thinks about Emma Bovary—the protagonist of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary—he accentuates the idea that Bev is elated to “have” him as a “lover.” However, he then begins to grasp the fact that his conception of her is quite disparaging, realizing that he shouldn’t call her “poor Bev Shaw.” In turn, readers see that David is aware of his own vanity, which often causes him to think of himself as superior to others. In this moment, though, he finally admits his own shortcomings.