Archive for Kazuo Ishiguro

la belle sauvage [book review]

Posted in Statistics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2018 by xi'an

Another book I brought back from Austin. And another deeply enjoyable one, although not the end of a trilogy of trilogies this time. This book, La Belle Sauvage, is first in a new trilogy by Philip Pullman that goes back to the early infancy of the hero of His Dark Materials, Lyra. Later volumes will take place after the first trilogy.

This is very much a novel about Oxford, to the point it sometimes seems written only for people with an Oxonian connection. After all, the author is living in Oxford… (Having the boat of the two characters passing by the [unnamed] department of Statistics at St. Giles carried away by the flood was a special sentence for me!)

Also, in continuation of His Dark Materials, a great steampunk universe, with a very oppressive Church and so far a limited used of magicks! Limited to the daemons, again in continuation with past volumes…

Now, some passages of the book remind me of Ishiguro’s buried giant, in the sense that the characters meeting myths from other stories may “really” meet them or instead dream. This is for instance the case when they accost at a property where an outworldy party is taking place and no-one is noticing them. Or when they meet a true giant that is a river deity, albeit not in the spirit of Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London novels.

The story is written in the time honoured setup of teenager discovery travels, with not so much to discover as the whole country is covered by water. And the travel gets a wee bit boring after a while, with a wee bit too many coincidences, the inexplicable death (?) of a villain, and an hurried finale, where the reverse trip of the main characters takes a page rather than one book…

Trivia: La Belle Sauvage was also the name of the pub in Ludgate Hill where Pocahontas and her brother Tomocomo stayed when they first arrived in London. And The Trout is a true local pub, on the other side of Port Meadow [although I never managed to run that far in that direction while staying in St. Hugh, Oxford, last time, the meadow being flooded!].

Looking forward the second volume (already written, so no risk of The Name of the Wind or Game of Thrones quagmires, i.e., an endless wait for the next volume!), hoping the author keeps up the good work, the right tension in the story, and avoids by all means parallel universes, which were so annoying in the first trilogy! (I do remember loosing interest in the story during the second book and having trouble finishing the third one. I am not sure my son [who started before me] ever completed the trilogy…)

never let me go [book review]

Posted in Books, Kids, pictures, Travel with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 15, 2017 by xi'an

Another chance occurrence led me to read that not so recent book by Kazuo Ishiguro, taking advantage of my short nights while in Warwick. [I wrote this post before the unexpected Nobelisation of the author.] As in earlier novels of his, the strongest feeling is one of melancholia, of things that had been or had supposed to have been and are no longer. Especially the incomparable The Remains of the Day… In the great tradition of the English [teen] novel, this ideal universe is a boarding school, where a group of students bond and grow up, until they face the real world. The story is told with a lot of flashbacks and personal impressions of the single narrator, which made me uncertain of the reality behind her perception and recasting. And of her role and actions within that group, since they always appear more mature and sensible than the others’. The sinister features of this boarding school and the reasons why these children are treated differently emerge very very slowly through the book and the description of their treatment remains unclear till the end of the book. Purposely so. However, once one understands the very reason for their existence, the novels looses its tension, as the perpetual rotation of their interactions gets inconsequential when faced with their short destinies. While one can get attached to the main characters, the doom awaiting them blurs the relevance of their affairs and disputes. Maybe what got me so quickly distanced from the story is the complacency of these characters and the lack of rebellion against their treatment, unless of course it was the ultimate goal of Ishiguro to show that readers, as the “normal” characters in the story, would come to treat the other ones as not completely human… While the final scene about souvenirs and memories sounding like plastic trash trapped on barbed wires seems an easy line, I appreciated the slow construct of the art pieces of Tommy and the maybe too obvious link with their own destiny.

When searching for reviews about this book, I discovered a movie had been made out this book, in 2011, with the same title. And of which I had never heard either..! [Which made me realise the characters were all very young when they died.]

the buried giant [book review]

Posted in Books, Kids, pictures, Travel with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 10, 2015 by xi'an

Last year, I posted a review of Ishiguro’s  “When we were orphans”, with the comment that, while I enjoyed the novel and appreciated its multiple layers, while missing a strong enough grasp on the characters… I brought back from New York Ishiguro’s latest novel, “The Buried Giant“, with high expectations, doubled by the location of the story in an Arthurian setting, at a time when Britons had not yet been subsumed into Anglo-Saxon culture or forced to migrate to little Britain (Brittany). Looking forward a re-creation of an Arthurian cycle, possibly with a post-modern twist. (Plus, the book as an object is quite nice, with a black slice.)

“I respect what I think he was trying to do, but for me it didn’t work. It couldn’t work. No writer can successfully use the ‘surface elements’ of a literary genre — far less its profound capacities — for a serious purpose, while despising it to the point of fearing identification with it. I found reading the book painful. It was like watching a man falling from a high wire while he shouts to the audience, “Are they going say I’m a tight-rope walker?”” Ursula Le Gun, March 2, 2015.

Alas, thrice alas, after reading it within a fortnight, I am quite disappointed by the book. Which, like the giant, would have better remained buried..  Ishiguro pursues his delving into the notion of memories and remembrances, with the twisted reality they convey. After the detective cum historical novel of “When we were orphans”, he moves to the allegory of the early medieval tale, where characters have to embark upon a quest and face supernatural dangers like pixies and ogres. But mostly suffer from a collective amnesia they cannot shake. The idea is quite clever and once again attractive, but the resulting story sounds too artificial and contrived to involve me into the devenir of its characters. As an aside, the two central characters, Beatrix and Axl, have hardly Briton names. Beatrix is of Latin origin and means traveller, while Axl is of Scandinavian origin and means father of peace. Appropriate symbols for their roles in the allegory, obviously. But this also makes me wonder how deep the allegory is, that is, how many levels of references and stories are hidden behind the bland trek of A & B through a fantasy Britain.

A book review in The Guardian links this book with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. I fail to see the connection: Tolkien was immersed for his whole life into Norse sagas and Saxon tales, creating his own myth out of his studies without a thought for parody or allegory. Here, the whole universe is misty and vague, and characters act with no reason or rationale. The whole episode in the monastery and the subsequent tunnel exploration do not make sense in terms of the story, while I cannot fathom what they are supposed to stand for. The theme of the ferryman carrying couples to an island where they may rest, together or not, sounds too obvious to just mean this. What else does it stand for?! The encounters of the rag woman, first in the Roman ruins where she threatens to cut a rabbit’s neck, then in a boat where she acts as a decoy, are completely obscure as to what they are supposed to mean. Maybe this accumulation of senseless events is the whole point of the book, but such a degree of deconstruction does not make for a pleasant read. Eventually, I came to hope that the mists rise again and carry away all past memories of “The Buried Giant“!

when we were orphans

Posted in Books, Kids, Travel with tags , , , , on February 9, 2014 by xi'an

Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day is one of my favourite novels for its bittersweet depiction of the growing realisation that the main character has wasted his life. This other novel has the same thread of backward perspectives and of missed opportunities, however the main character (Banks) is of a very different nature. The way When we were orphans is written, one starts thinking this is all about an English detective trying to uncover the truth behind a very personal  tragedy, the disappearance of both his parents in Shanghai when he was a child. But progressively the narrative gets fractured and incoherent and we progressively doubt the author’s story, then his sanity. By the end of the book, it is just impossible to sift reality from imagination, daydreaming from life accomplishments. For instance, Banks presents himself as a detective with a certain degree of fame in London circles. However, there is no description whatsoever of his methods or of specific cases. The closest to a description is a child murder (and worse?) where a local constable pleads for the detective to hit at the heart of evil, in a completely incoherent discourse. The storytelling qualities of Ishiguro are so perfect that the character remains a mystery till the end. It is not even sure that he has at all left the acting as a detective he used to indulge in with his Japanese neighbour in Shanghai! The most disturbing section occurs when he revisits Shanghai at the time of the Japanese invasion and thinks he can link his parents’ disappearance with the said invasion and solve both of them at once. It is only when he enters a battle zone in the slums of the city that reality seems to reassert itself, but even then the reunification of Banks and the Japanese friend from his childhood is so unrealistic that the most likely interpretation is that Banks is in a permanent denial and that the Japanese officer he rescued plays the game to stay alive. Still, the story is told in such a way that one can never be sure of any of these interpretations and this is what makes it such a great book, more complex than The Remains of the Day in its construction, if less compelling because of the unfocussed nature of most characters, which we can never grasp hard enough…