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zhandlen 's review for:
The Unconsoled
by Kazuo Ishiguro
Unique, occasionally fascinating book that captures the perpetual shifting and vague urgency of dreams better than anything else I've read. I'm just not sure that's enough. There's enough here to make it worth reading, but not enough that I'd recommend it, and the length combined with the lack of narrative drive make the experience something of a slog. But it's not bad, really, and I never got that frustrated, almost painful feeling of boredom that comes off of complete artistic self-indulgence. Besides, this is arguably the end of the line for some of Ishiguro's most basic narrative obsessions; without the restriction of realism or anything beyond the lightest of continuity, the writer is free to noodle about themes like artistic pressure, self-doubt, the subjectivity of memory (the book is itself intentional, and frequently, inconsistent), and the obligations of living up to the needs of others. But it lacks the emotional gutpunch of Ishiguro's best work, since, despite the constant sense of events falling apart just outside of the narrator's reach, there's nothing solid enough to care about. Interesting, and has its moments, but ultimately not much more than an intermittently moving curiosity.