14 March 2015

The Buried Giant, by Kazuo Ishiguro

I finished the novel this morning and am still chewing over it. Certainly a spell-binding, immersive read: in terms of world building, it's an incredible book. The characters wander in a vaguely familiar landscape that is blanketed in a mist of amnesia, groping towards an ill-defined goal, searching for memories, struggling through confused interactions with other people who are equally befuddled. A vague air of menace hangs over everything. It's brilliantly done, and the reading experience is both suspenseful and strangely soothing, and our two main character, Axl and Beatrice, lovingly comfort each other and tread carefully over potential sources of pain or conflict.

As the novel progresses, details of a broader history begin to emerge, and this is where I am lesssure how I feel about the book. Initially, the socio-political commentary that emerges seemed poignant, timely, and interesting. As it developed, however, I found it less compelling, or rather, it didn't seem to go beyond the somewhat obvious in terms of ideas that it developed. But maybe it is me who is not giving the novel its due, ruminating on its peculiar ending and what it means.

Regardless, it is a book worth reading: eerie, engaging, and deeply felt.

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