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156 of 163 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars I'm still screaming
THE UNCONSOLED is the most frustrating book I've ever read. It's also one of the most rewarding. It wasn't until I reached the end that I began to understand it, and I would never have reached the end at all if I hadn't listened to the audio version. David Case delivers an excellent narration, his calm, dry approach highlighting the emotions in each situation and his...
Published on May 6, 2003 by Anna Klein

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15 of 15 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars A lucid dream - finding personal interpretations
If you're going to read the Unconsoled, you have to be prepared to continuously suspend your confusion and make sense of the story by personally interpreting the characters and events yourself. It is evident that Ishiguro intends to challenge and engage the reader with the same sense of hope, confusion and agony that his protagonist (Ryder) comes to experience.
The...
Published on March 1, 2004 by Andrew Stokes-Rees


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156 of 163 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars I'm still screaming, May 6, 2003
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Audio Cassette)
THE UNCONSOLED is the most frustrating book I've ever read. It's also one of the most rewarding. It wasn't until I reached the end that I began to understand it, and I would never have reached the end at all if I hadn't listened to the audio version. David Case delivers an excellent narration, his calm, dry approach highlighting the emotions in each situation and his analytical, english accent well suited to the book's formal, elaborate tone.
Mr. Ryder, a world renowned pianist, has just arrived in an unidentified city for reasons he can no longer remember, except it seems he has some moral duty to help the city's occupants and he is to give a concert and speech on the coming Thursday night. Since Case uses a slightly Germanic accent for the city's people, one can assume the unnamed city is in Germany. The city is apparently a cultural and musical center that has fallen on hard times after idolizing the wrong musician and now has its hope of redemption pinned on another, ailing musician, Mr. Leo Brodsky. The entire city is coddling Brodsky along in the hopes he will manage a spectacular performance on this important Thursday night.
Every character Ryder encounters greets him most obsequiously while begging of him some small favor -- critiquing a piano piece, visiting a particular restaurant, studying some albums -- until he (and the reader) is overcome with exhaustion. Yet Ryder always feels the need to listen to these longwinded concerns and to try to offer some help, for he has both the sense of having been brought here to make things right and of his own overblown self importance. Although he feels a stranger to these people, it becomes obvious he isn't -- he has been to this city before and has a life with a woman, Sophie, and her small boy, Boris.
Ryder isn't suffering from amnesia exactly. Sometimes he can remember things. Sometimes he can't. Sometimes his memories change. Often they are distorted, such as when he believes his motel room is actually his old bedroom or an old abandoned car he finds is actually his family's vehicle from his childhood. At other times memories will come back to him in the strangest ways, for occurances he did not personally witness.
Time is badly warped -- thirty minute discussions take place during ten minute trips -- and all the while there is a terrible sense of urgency, of always being too late or in the wrong place or unable to get from here to there. Often Ryder finds himself back where he started, even though he traveled a long way from point A to B. Doors in dinner halls open back into his hotel; during a lunch date he discovers he's in the same cafe where he ate breakfast. Farms and forests and grassy hills with huts appear in the middle of the city. Once a brick wall blocks his path, built right across the road for no apparent reason. At one point Ryder wears a dressing robe to an evening party, yet no one notices (even when it falls open). The people are too involved in a discussion concerning Mr. Brodsky's dead dog.
As the sense of rush and desperation increased, I got the feeling the whole book was a maze from which Ryder (and, incidentally I) could not escape. It reads like one of those nightmares where you're moving in slow motion, unable to stop the events around you, unable to speak, powerless to reach your destination. And, as in those nightmares, people from the past keep cropping up where they have no reason to be. Ryder's old schoolmates, his childhood girlfriend, they show up with their own curious demands. In fact, everyone Ryder meets becomes more and more demanding of him, while seemingly unaware of it. Their moods shift rapidly (so do Ryder's), and while they view Ryder as a god-like figure, they also seem to secretly despise him and be laughing at him, as when he is in the company of a journalist and photographer and the two shout over his head to each other about how vain and conceited he is. Incidentally, Ryder hears everything they say, then proceeds to do exactly what they have just predicted he would. As the book progressed I grew to dislike Ryder intensely, especially for his willingness to give other people advice that he could not follow himself and for his totally callous treatment of Boris.
By the end of the book it seemed to me that certain people -- Boris; the hotel manager's twenty-some-year-old son, Stephan; and Mr. Brodsky -- represent Ryder himself at different periods in his life (this somewhat explains the unreliable narration). Boris is struggling to attract his father's attention, Stephan is struggling with parents who refuse to recognize his musical gifts, Brodsky has reached the end of his career, a shell of former glory. The entire story seems to be a dreamlike life journey, a fusion of past and future events into one surreal present. I found the ending incredibly sad; I was touched by the way Ishiguro highlights the futility of life, the farce lying beneath every society, the way people do not want to change.
Rating THE UNCONSOLED is difficult. If I judge it by how boring and frustrating certain portions were, it gets two stars. But if I judge it by what Ishiguro ultimately accomplished, it gets five stars. Because the ending brought it all together for me, I have settled on the latter, a hopefully fair rating for a book I will never read again, but one I will certainly never forget.
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55 of 56 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Enjoy a challenging read? Funny, profound, difficult., November 1, 2000
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
In The Remains of the Day Ishiguro perfected the writing style he had begun in his first two books, and after its success he proclaimed his desire to write something different, 'rougher'. The Unconsoled is the product of five years' work by this acclaimed writer, and 'rough' -- as in difficult -- is indeed a word that might be used to describe it.
First of all, it is a massive book. Secondly, it has no plot. Thirdly, it doesn't make any sense. Huh?
If you've read Kafka (especially The Castle) the solution to this riddle will be easy to explain: The Unconsoled is a modern-day Kafka-esque dream-world social commentary on the individual and society. As with Kafka, the theme is alientation of the individual from society, others, and himself. Ishiguro delves into the question of why we are often so incapable when it comes to interacting with the people we care most about. In the words of a song from the musical Chess the theme is: 'How can I love you so much, yet make no move?' Ishiguro's cast is comprised of parents and children, husbands and wives, who because of their own human weakness find it almost impossible to say the simplest of things, or make the simplest of actions, and thereby allow their relationships to deteriorate -- slowly, frustratingly, continuously.
The setting is an unspecified central European city in decline, whose citizens view the protagonist, the famous pianist Charles Ryder, as a kind of saviour who will revive their city's fortunes. But of course, no external solution is possible, and Ryder must fail, even as he watches his own personal life crumbling before his inactivity. Neglecting his wife and son, he is mindlessly self-centred, interested only in achieving self-validation by having his parents attend one of his concerts so they can see him perform before he loses his skills. Despite the fact that they never come, he makes preparations for their arrival and retains a futile hope that can only be called pathetic.
Fortunately (since there is no plot), Ishiguro combines his powerful message with stunning dream-like imagery and a good dose of side-splitting humour. Ishiguro has an incredible sense of the absurd (as readers of The Remains of the Day will well know) and he places Ryder in the most agonizing and embarassing of situations, to which we all can easily relate. This humour is welcome in what is a hard and rather depressing, yet immensely well-written and powerful, book. If you can handle a struggle, or (better yet) enjoy being challenged, The Unconsoled is masterful modern literature, well worth the read.
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56 of 60 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Truly Amazing, Fascinating, and Frustrating, December 11, 1997
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Hardcover)
I read this book last year after completing a high school English assignment which included the reading of Ishiguro's Remains of the Day. After being astounded by the literary merit and quality of this work, I just had to read another. Well, as those of you who have read both can attest to, I was definitely surprised. The Unconsoled centers around Mr. Ryder, a renowned pianist who comes to play in a small European town (which incidentally, remains unnamed). Right from the start, the reader learns that through his performance, he is somehow expected to save the city from their own cultural degredation. How he is supposed to do this, we don't really know. This confusion remains throughout the book, and it is not for the faint hearted. Ishiguro spares no expense in describing the frustration that Ryder is feeling, creating a suureal dreamworld setting, in which time and space have no meaning (as we know them). Consider an elevator ride in a hotel up 2 floors in which an entire 10 minute conversation is held. Consider doors popping up all over the place that lead Ryder back to his hotel, even though he may have driven a great distance to get there. Consider a wall, strectched across the street for no apparent reason, which simply hinders Ryder from getting to where he wants to go. All of these are described with such a sense of reality and matter-of-factness that they are made to appear like normal ocurrences. Ishiguro's novel is a masterpiece in that it draws the reader in. It is not just about Mr. Ryder -- it is about the reader as well. It is about the frustrations and about the dreamlike quality that everyone's life takes on at times. It is about art, and the power it has over a society. It is about artists, and the enormous cultural burdens and responsibilities they experience. If you are ready for a challenge to both your mind and your sanity, pick up the Unconsoled. Stick with it through all the frustrations and absurdities, and you may just find something deep inside.
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20 of 20 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars A work of genius, January 19, 2003
By 
S. W. Ye (San Francisco, CA USA) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
Review by Dr. Gregory O'Dea
UC Foundation Associate Professor of English, UTC
The Unconsoled, Kazuo Ishiguro's first novel since the internationally accalimed The Remains of the Day (1989), is by turns a stunning and startling work. In a narrative that suggests nothing so much as an absurd and unsettling dream, the author creates a portrait of an artist who can no longer measure the distance between his public and private selves.
Ryder, the novel's narrator, is a celebrated pianist who arrives in an unnamed European city to give an important concert. But as the story proceeds it becomes clear that Ryder recalls very little about the reasons for his visit, and more, that he is expected to perform not merely a concert but a miracle: nothing less than the recovery of the city's aesthetic and spiritual being. During the three days preceding the climactic evening Ryder becomes enmeshed in the lives and incessant demands of myriad (apparent) strangers: a hotel manager and his dysfunctional family, a porter and his distant daughter and grandson, a drunken orchestra conductor and his estranged wife, various prominent citizens and endless others, including improbable figures from his own past, all of whom pop up and disappear like grotesque apparitions in a carnival fun-house.
In these surreal experiences, Ishiguro represents the artist's public life as hopelessly entangled in the fabric of a dream. Over the course of impossibly elongated time-frames (but always in a desperate hurry) Ryder navigates broom closets that open onto cocktail parties, dark forests in city centers, and urban back alleys that dissolve into abandoned farmyards. He attends a banquet only to discover he's wearing nothing but a bathrobe. His hotel room bears a vague, uncanny resemblance to his childhood bedroom, and the rusting wreck of the family car from his boyhood turns up in the parking lot of an art museum. And the people he meets, distorted, nonsensical, incongruous, absurd, bend Ryder's ear in hypnotic speeches that reveal the intimacies of their lives: their hopes, their despair, their sense of having been forgotten or left behind in a city that has misplaced its soul.
But somewhere in this massive novel, between its lines, in its margins, perhaps in the very fibers of the pages themselves, another story lies and waits to be told, one all too common and deadening in its reality: the story of an unloved, neglected child who has failed to meet his parents' expectations. In a magical process of revelation, the characters in The Unconsoled gradually come to resemble distorted projections of Ryder himself, his mother and father, and his childhood fears and desires, while the city's labyrinthine landscape and slippery sense of place suggest the hidden contours of Ryder's own unconscious mind. These impossible strangers are, eerily, the ghosts of Ryder's psyche, and the soul of the city they want him to save is, we come to feel, also his own.
However bizarre they may seem in hindsight, dreams make a great deal of sense while we are dreaming, and Ishiguro's restrained writing creates this necessary effect. In almost any other writer's hands such a psychically ambitious novel might easily slip over the edge, but Ishiguro manages to infuse Ryder's narrative with many miraculous moments of comedy, pathos, and deadpan irony. And his prose is an unqualified marvel: an elegant, controlled, and precise writing that casts a fragile veneer of sanity over a disturbing and profound reading experience. The Unconsoled is a major new work by an enormously talented and important novelist.
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15 of 15 people found the following review helpful
3.0 out of 5 stars A lucid dream - finding personal interpretations, March 1, 2004
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
If you're going to read the Unconsoled, you have to be prepared to continuously suspend your confusion and make sense of the story by personally interpreting the characters and events yourself. It is evident that Ishiguro intends to challenge and engage the reader with the same sense of hope, confusion and agony that his protagonist (Ryder) comes to experience.
The story (told in the first person) is built around the exceedingly simple premise of a concert pianist's visit to a small city. In the days leading up to his performance he is forced to deal with various city folk in encounters that seem to peel back the layers of his own history. As a result the reader gains a strong sense that beneath his supposed celebrity status is an emotionally scarred and mentally ill individual.
Ishiguro does does not offer any clues to help you discern reality from illusion, and a lot of readers will consequently feel deceived or cheated by Ishiguro's style. Mounting plot incongruencies increase with each chapter and the reader must just move on without seeking to assemble any logic or consistency in the details of characters, chronology or setting.
Readers should, however, pay close attention to the way Ryder relates to certain characters (Boris, the little boy, Stephan, the young man, and Brodsky, the elderly musician) each of whom serve to reflect the emotional disturbances of Ryder's own past.
The main precaution that should be given, is that the novel's plotline is entirely without conclusion or resolve. The obvious event that you anticipate for the climax is painstakingly approached but never reached. I'm certain that many copies of this novel have been thrown at walls, ripped in half etc.
Instead, a very close interpretation of the themes and subtext stand to yield the insightful reader a very powerful conclusion: the conclusion is in your own comprehension, not in the story itself.
Readers who enjoy The Unconsoled should check out the 1999 film Magnolia, which elicits similar themes of unresolved parent-child / adult-childhood disillusionment. Incidentally, Magnolia also demands a similar style of active-interpretation by the viewer.
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14 of 14 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars We are all "The Unconsoled," so laugh, or sob about it, December 5, 2002
By 
Charles Kaufmann (Portland, ME United States) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
"The Unconsoled," by Kuzuo Ishiguro, surprised me. As I started reading I thought the story was a serious one, and found the book painfully tedious and full of angst the way a Kafka novel might be. After several chapters, however, I realized to my delight that the "The Unconsoled" is a wonderful farce. Ishiguro presents his story about the pianist Ryder in a way that has the feeling of a humorous bad dream - one we've all had before: finding yourself delivering a speech in public in an open bathrobe; forgetting to show up in time for an important engagement only to find, with relief, that the engagement wasn't missed after all, or was it?
One way of understanding this story is to consider it a Bardo tale of transition in the Tibetan Book of the Dead tradition. The dream state between life and death is a test of character before rebirth. But perhaps the reason I understood Ishiguru's novel so well is because I am a performing classical musician who travels constantly without my family. Many times it seemed as if scenes from this hilarious novel were taken from my own experiences. I laughed openly wherever I was reading this book - on the subway, on the plane, eating alone at a restaurant while on the road, (I even have eaten at breakfast places which, although not "trolley buffets," gave that uproarious final trolley scene a familiar ring).
I laughed, that is, until the final pages, when I realized what I had in common with Ryder and with all the other characters of the book: we are The Unconsoled - we search for the lost love and approval of parents, of friends, of lovers, of community; we manipulate those around as a way of arranging our personal consolation for whatever it is we feel we have lost. On the way, we take ourselves far too seriously. As with the butler Stevens in "The Remains of the Day," the finding of happiness for Ryder seems to require from him simple acts of recognition and commitment.
Ishiguru is a writer of great compassion. Ironically, as a reader I was left with more questions than answers, something I found, well, consoling. After all, this is the eternal human conundrum. As I read the last few pages I cried, as Ryder himself sobbed, and as did Boris, his dream-son and alter ego, but this is the sort of sobbing that makes you aware that things are not at all as bad as they seem.
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18 of 19 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars GALVANIZING, May 25, 2005
By 
Amazon Customer (Cleveland, OH USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
This book is for those who take the hidden meaning of their dreams very seriously, who understand the power and uses of myth. It's a Rorschach blot in which each reader, with humor, horror, fascination, boredom or revulsion, finds the patterns of his or her own life.

That said, I was astonished that no one else here saw what was to me the primary theme of the book -- the pervasive crisis around which all these characters are milling, Ryder's whole reason for being there -- the dryness and loss of the vitality that Ryder is supposed to be helping them to rediscover, the first awareness of the onset of a slow death. This theme builds steadily to a shattering climax at the end of the book.

The Unconsoled could be the troubled dream of a mid-life crisis, with Ryder as the gradually emerging consciousness of the need for change and renewal (though parts of you have been aware of it for some time now). "I mean the very special one, the very important trip, the one that's very important, not just for me, but for everyone, everyone in the whole world." It's the realization that you have let life fall into a soul-killing routine and that without one last great spasm of creative effort, "they miss it. And you know, they regret it for the rest of their lives. They get bitter and sad. By the time they die, they've become broken people."

As in a dream, all the characters are aspects of you (hence the similarity of voice) -- all the many inner warring factions that have to get brought along through any life changes. How can you renew your spirit and revitalize your life, while honoring the past and meeting present responsibilities? How do you decide which aspects to heed and keep, how do you shake off the ones that hold you back? How do you get buy-in so the fearful, petulant parts of yourself don't sabotage your efforts to change?

That's what this novel is about, and for all its humor, it's dead serious. Because what's at stake is the life of the soul. And if we fail, there's just comfort food and the endless circular tram ride to and from work each day. And the soul "going alone. To some dark, lonely place."
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16 of 17 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Did anyone notice that it's FUNNY?, December 26, 1999
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
I read through all the reviews here, and actually one reviewer DID notice that it's a very funny novel, but it looks like a number of people don't think so. Fine. Humor is a subjective thing. I don't think anyone could enjoy it without laughing all the way through, so I can only conclude that those who reviewed it negatively have a different sense of humor from mine.
Second, when I recommend this novel to friends, I don't point out that it follows the schema of a panic dream (e.g., you're late for the meeting and then you discover you're not wearing pants, and so on), because that's a major spoiler. It takes at least 30 pages to figure it out, and this is a large part of the fun. But I reiterate the point here, because it looks like it's not obvious to all reviewers. Again, if you don't get this, then the novel is not going to make a lot of sense, and I doubt it would be enjoyable. (And I don't find it surreal in the sense of Kafka; it's actually a very *realistic* depiction of what it feels like to be dreaming, though clearly a real dream could never go on so long and be self-consistent.)
Finally, I completely disagree with the comment that the chapters could be read in a different order. Maybe the novel is too long, but it's tightly woven. Every seemingly pointless digression in dialogue ties in with a later event. It's just a pleasure to be surprised again and again at how seemingly inconsequential comments are woven into the plot much later.
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23 of 26 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Crafted writing, surrealistic, May 10, 2003
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
Disclaimer: I can vouch you will like The Unconsoled even more if you like When We Were Orphans. While Kazuo Ishiguro's latest release has weathered a gale of bashing reviews, The Unconsoled, released in 1995, seemed somehow overlooked by readers. If you do not like "When We Were Orphans", please do the author a favor and don't even touch the book, let alone making bashing comments on it. This book can be very frustrating.
Keep this question in mind: Who is (are) unconsoled?
In spite of the many layers and implications, the plot is delightfully straightforward and simple. Mr. Ryder (the protagonist and narrator), a world-renowned pianist, arrived in some European city he could not identify to give a performance he simply failed to recall agreeing to give. What followed was a finely tuned narrative that punctiliously chronicled Mr. Ryder's three eventful (but not necessarily productive) days in town. Upon his arrival at the hotel, the pianist encountered a diverse cast of townspeople who overwhelmed him with their inexplicable knowledge and inexorable expectations of him. Only when he out of politeness engaged in paltry conversations with them one by one did Ryder find himself stuck in their lives and their problems.
Gustav was a respectable porter who determined to implement some personal measure in order to improve the overall image of porters in town. The old man asked Ryder to have a little word with his sulky daughter Sophie who had not spoken to him for years. Her son Boris was portrayed as though he was a lonely orphan (I wonder why?) who muttered to himself. The pianist then stumbled on to Hoffman, the hotel manager whose wife Christine had scrupulously kept a scrapbook full of Ryder's cuttings, even those that mentioned the pianist in passing. Stephen, Hoffman's 23-year-old son who always had such low esteem and thought his mediocre talent had let down his parents, asked Ryder to comment on his piano rehearsal for the big night opening recital. Hoffman himself constantly dreaded his marriage that turned cold and all that left behind was underlying tension. Brodsky, an ex-orchestra conductor, sought to rebuild his fame and reconcile with Miss Collins after being "drunken" for 20 years. The town saw its own crisis in cultural degradation as though Ryder was the only possible rescue. ... ...
This book is meant to be humorous though the title might have suggested otherwise. Each of the characters, including Ryder, could recount dozens of sad incidences-how loneliness had blighted lives, how families despaired at the realization that they had taken happiness for granted. The town and its people (merely strangers really) ludicrously demanded more and more out of Ryder who hardly had a good sleep. At one point Ryder threatened to live the town at once and cancelled his speech and recital. It's hilarious that Ryder lost control over his schedule whenever he brushed shoulders with someone who would mutter their problems.
Landscape and time are key in the novel. About a quarter into the book one would encounter rapid swerve of landscape (this can be annoying and confusing at first). Ryder might one-minute walk into the hotel atrium but quickly found him in a path that led to a wood. Landscape change as such occurred sparsely throughout the book enough to cause confusion. As I read on I realized these changes might have hinted at the many memory fragments Ryder had envisioned in his mind. Once you have persevered through the narrative that seemed to have rambled on so indecipherably, everything began to make sense. The actual time-span of the book was 4 days but Ryder recounted on a montage of memories that might have lasted years. The notion of time was warped repeatedly. A casual elevator conversation could stretch to an hour, drifted to far-gone memories and remote places. In the end, when the compelling prose manifested the threads between Ryder and all the people whose lives he was led in and out for the past few days, you can only appreciate and praise the raconteur in Kazuo Ishiguro.
At this point, it's inappropriate of me to further comment on the novel as such comment will only spoil one's reading pleasure. The take home message of this review is that all the characters contribute significantly to the making of Ryder. Readers should never take each nuance lightly. Every meaning and gesture will add to the understanding of the book. The Unconsoled left behind many open ends that one would for sure have to wrestle with it. Ishiguro's writing once again proves he to be one of the finest prose stylists of our time. Engrossing read. 5.0 stars.
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13 of 14 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars A Consul in the Realm of the Unconsolable, January 9, 2000
By 
This review is from: The Unconsoled (Paperback)
As I don't normally see my nightmares through while I'm sleeping, I found myself frequently shelving this novel. However, just as our nightmares have a curious tendency to provoke us to analyze them, I found myself returning to read, much as I would meet again with a difficult and complex friend. You know, the friend that you see only rarely because they leave you feeling unsettled, agitated.
One almost has to review this novel from two perspectives. In order for a review to be of any use to readers (and not full of self-effacing grad school twaddle), the review should compare the experience of reading this novel to others.
If you are looking for the so-called good read (subjective) run as fast as you can from this novel. It does not fit within the traditionalist rubrik. The story itself is not in the action of the novel but the exercise of writing it. The action is not rooted in any town we would recognize (as in dreams). There are no foreign language problems to cope with (also as in dreams at times). And the thread of the story meanders and corkscrews as the protagonist's relationship skews with the other actors. In that sense, it is utterly unreadable if you are expecting fiction of the calibre of Remains of the Day.
However, as a literary exercise, it is as much a feast for the intellect as any Pynchon or Joyce novel. The imagery and action appear to take one through a panic dream in the vehicle of the most comatose and unpretentious international musical performers I have ever encountered in fiction or reality. <Next sentence for the frustrated grad student>. The main character, Ryder, appears to float in the epipelagic zone of sleep, where one is most susceptible to suggestion but is infused with memories that can't be atributed to either reality or the world of dreams one just left. As such, Ryder is the reader's consul in the foreign land of the absurd or unreal.
I found myself drawn to this often funny, more often frustrating literary experience...kind of like that person you really want to date but would never marry. In any case, the novel provokes, titillates, and stimulates. And it certainly elicits reactions in a manner that fiction almost always fails to do. And the next time I go to a reception in my pajamas, I will stand on a chair and deliver this review to all and sundry.
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The Unconsoled
The Unconsoled by Kazuo Ishiguro (Paperback - October 1, 1996)
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