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marc129 's review for:
The Unconsoled
by Kazuo Ishiguro
I have given this book 200 pages, hoping that it would lead me somewhere, but shortly before halfway I understood that this just is the "identity" of this book: that it is leading nowhere, and also at the end, would "end" nowhere. Nevertheless, this was sometimes very pleasant reading: the mysterious atmosphere, the kafka-esk dreamlike strangeness, the surreal dialogues and sequences, the stylistic beautifully crafted scenes ... it all bore the stamp of great literature. But when for the 20th time our celebrated pianist Mr. Ryder was accosted by a character and he just (without considering) rushed to the next, absurd scene, it was enough for me. I fear that I -despite my age-still expect to detect a Great Message in a book (social, aesthetic, existential), and that I did not detect it in this one. If ever I find myself having very, very much time, I promise I'll take this one in hand again, just for the reading pleasure.