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Loading... The Unconsoledby Kazuo Ishiguro
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won't like
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will love Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. An adventurous journey towards surrealism; not a journey I particularly enjoyed - to be frank it drove me mad - but if you like the sort of strange world I associate with Kafka's Metamorphosis then you might just love this. Too long, self-indulgent. I get it. But I am not going to finish it because, so far, it is simply more of the same. Verbosity is not a crime, but it is when it shows no sign at all of getting to the point. Ishiguro needs an editor. I'm glad so many reviewers have enjoyed this novel. I've just finished it and have regraded it as a four rather than a three star read. It was, as people have already said, full of pathos and humour (Bruno was "the greatest dog of his generation!")and sucked me deeper and deeper into Ryder's world with every page, from the 'Is he dreaming? He must be dreaming!' feeling of the first chapter, through to not wanting him to wake and the dream to end at the finish. This is the second Ishiguro I've read, and like the previous one (Remains of the Day) it's left me wanting to read it again, immediately. Perhaps I'll give it five stars next time. I remember reading this after a colleague told me it was 'unreadable'. Yet the initial frustration one has at its circular, repetitive narrative eventually becomes almost hypnotic.
The Unconsoled itself is beautifully controlled, even-paced, deadpan in spite of all extravagances. Its determined equanimity of tone makes you drowsy, and sometimes you wonder if you'd notice if you dropped off to sleep while you were reading. But there is finally something haunting, even alluring, about the proliferation of obstacles and stories in this book.
References to this work on external resources.
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(retrieved from Amazon Fri, 24 Apr 2009 07:58:16 -0400)
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All that being said, I am still struggling with how to absorb this novel. As I read it, I kept getting impressions of other authors/novels. First it was Camus – the protagonist who seems to let life make his decisions for him. Then it was Flann O’Brien’s “The Third Policeman” – surreal situations that are just accepted (such as doors that seem to lead to rooms across the city, Ryder hearing conversations that were impossible for him to hear, and the description of “2001: A Space Odyssey” starring Clint Eastwood and Yul Brynner.) Finally, it was Carson McCuller’s “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter” (and the last I read that was in high school, so this may not be accurate) – the protagonist as the father confessor.
If the preceding does not indicate there are various unusual things going on in this novel, nothing will. Yet, it is all engrossing. Ryder shows up in the city and is, for all intents and purposes, as tabula rasa as the reader. He knows he is there for a performance, but seems to have no other details. And, as events draw him further and further away from the expected course (as indicated above, he is always being drawn away from what he intends to do) we learn he is much more familiar with the city and its inhabitants than even he at first remembers. It is as though he has no knowledge of his past and only just remembers it at the same time we are discovering it. This might seem off-putting, but in the surreal world Ishiguro has built it almost seems to flow logically. (At least, as logically as anything is in this story.)
There is a lot going for this story, but, by the end, I was getting tired of it all. These are disturbing people and, over time, they began to wear on me. By the end, I really felt ambivalent to all of them and had lost much of my desire to see how it all ended. But those same people are still haunting me. And, as I previously mentioned, I’m still absorbing what occurred in this book. I have a feeling my appreciation for this book will grow over time. (