Well, hmm. To be honest, I really don't quite know what to make of this book. It's an odd book, I think, kind of a fable, told in an unusual, conversational way. Ishiguro plays a bit with narrative style anyway (thinking of When We Were Orphans, which while not really a pastiche certainly emulates the style of detective stories of a certain era), so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but still - not sure what to make of this. One might call it fantasy, I suppose, but it's presented almost as history - like old oral tradition tales, Beowulf or something, except it's so conversational in tone. I didn't dislike it, but I'm not sure I precisely liked it either. Given that the novel's themes of loss and memory are pervasive, perhaps the somewhat disquieting feel you get from the book is simply part and parcel of the author's intent. I think I shall have to reserve judgement on this one.
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