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barts_books 's review for:
The Unconsoled
by Kazuo Ishiguro
If you want to experience the literary version of a very long anxiety dream, then The Unconsoled is just for you.
The protagonist, Mr Ryder, disembarks in an unnamed European city for the concert of his life. Everyone is expecting such very big things from Mr. Ryder, such vast incalculable things. But what they are, we are never quite sure, for he constantly gets pulled into every single minutiae of the cities citizens.
This continually throws the reader on a non-linear path through the city over 3 days where great distances are travelled, yet a single door can open up to his original location. Mr Ryder is also able to hear conversations between people despite remaining in a vastly different location. Within this dreamlike structure, Ryder encounters characters that are blatant past and future avatars of himself, battles with a disintegrating marriage, and akwardly bumbles through a relationship with his son.
Ishiguro is one of my favourite writers, and this is probably his most divise book. Many bemoan that's its boring and way too long (it is) whilst others champion its brave form and structure. I'm roughly in the middle but have bumped it up to 4 stars as
1) it's Ishiguro, and 2) Although it's a slog and largely impenetrable, the prose is really clear and crisp.
The protagonist, Mr Ryder, disembarks in an unnamed European city for the concert of his life. Everyone is expecting such very big things from Mr. Ryder, such vast incalculable things. But what they are, we are never quite sure, for he constantly gets pulled into every single minutiae of the cities citizens.
This continually throws the reader on a non-linear path through the city over 3 days where great distances are travelled, yet a single door can open up to his original location. Mr Ryder is also able to hear conversations between people despite remaining in a vastly different location. Within this dreamlike structure, Ryder encounters characters that are blatant past and future avatars of himself, battles with a disintegrating marriage, and akwardly bumbles through a relationship with his son.
Ishiguro is one of my favourite writers, and this is probably his most divise book. Many bemoan that's its boring and way too long (it is) whilst others champion its brave form and structure. I'm roughly in the middle but have bumped it up to 4 stars as
1) it's Ishiguro, and 2) Although it's a slog and largely impenetrable, the prose is really clear and crisp.