Mostafa Chizari
Ishiguro is a master of saying so much in so few words, but here, he’s almost undone by the other side of that coin: saying so little in so much text.
This book is expertly crafted to find the eerie within the mundane, and he plays that tension perfectly right to the very end. The problem is that it remains relentlessly mundane all the way until chapter 20(!) out of 23. It’s a slow burn that occasionally feels like it’s forgotten to light the fuse :(
I know many people who DNF’ed this, and honestly, I can see why. It’s a crying shame because the potential is massive and the ending is thoroughly satisfying (even with a lingering trail of unanswered questions). Ishiguro is clearly a masterful writer, and I’m keen to read more of his work, but there’s no denying that this one is a slog. I don't regret finishing it, but I’m well aware that "pushing through" isn't everyone’s cup of tea.
A haunting, clinical look at humanity that sadly takes a bit too long to find its pulse.
Ishiguro is a master of saying so much in so few words, but here, he’s almost undone by the other side of that coin: saying so little in so much text.
This book is expertly crafted to find the eerie within the mundane, and he plays that tension perfectly right to the very end. The problem is that it remains relentlessly mundane all the way until chapter 20(!) out of 23. It’s a slow burn that occasionally feels like it’s forgotten to light the fuse :(
I know many people who DNF’ed this, and honestly, I can see why. It’s a crying shame because the potential is massive and the ending is thoroughly satisfying (even with a lingering trail of unanswered questions). Ishiguro is clearly a masterful writer, and I’m keen to read more of his work, but there’s no denying that this one is a slog. I don't regret finishing it, but I’m well aware that "pushing through" isn't everyone’s cup of tea.
A haunting, clinical look at humanity that sadly takes a bit too long to find its pulse.