I can recommend The Unconsoled by Kazuo Ishiguro only to hard-core fans of Capital “L” Literature and even then, only to completists.
The Unconsoled follows Charles Ryder, a famous pianist, as he prepares to give a concert in an unnamed European city. Along the way, he is diverted from his preparation by a series of tedious conversations, meaningless tasks, and importunate personal requests from strangers who may or may not also be close family members or friends from his past. Both space and time seem to distort themselves around Ryder, and he has the ability to narrate events and conversations of which he can have no logical knowledge. In the end, as you might guess (I did by about page 23), Ryder never gives the concert.
The obvious major influence hanging over the book is Franz Kafka, although Lewis Carroll deprived of his whimsy and delight makes a strong argument for himself, too.
It’s also hard for me to think that Ishiguro has unknowingly given his character the same name as the hero of Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited, another feckless and second-rate artist who is unhappy in his personal life.
But whatever the relationship of Ishiguro’s Charles Ryder to Waugh’s Charles Ryder may or may not be, and whatever relationship The Unconsoled may or may not have to Kafka or Carroll, and whatever significance all the complicated, ambiguous goings-on in this 500+ page novel may or may not possess – the truth is I don’t care because I don’t think the novel rewards the effort required to figure it out.
I have a couple loosely related reasons for thinking this. I’m going to toss them out and let you decide. Here they are.
The Unreliable Author or “Who is Charles Ryder?” Problem
“What’s up with Charles Ryder?” is probably the big question about The Unconsoled.
Does he suffer from a mental illness or some form of amnesia or dementia? Does Ryder have emotional problems that prevent him from connecting with other people? Is he just another hapless existential shadow wandering through a meaningless universe? Is Ryder a cubist construct of the conscious and unconscious mind intended to be part of a “realism taken to its extreme” project? Is his character a vehicle for expressing the instability and chaos that lie deep within seemingly stable human personalities?
All of these explanations seem plausible but none seem more plausible than the others. Which leads me to the suspicion that Ishiguro thinks it is the reader’s task to make sense of the book, not the author.
Some people like this. I don’t.
Life is a complicated, frustrating, ambiguous experience of which it is my task to make sense.
I’m on it. But I got my hands full just trying to make sense of my life. I don’t need Kazuo giving me duplicate homework.
The Exploring “Emptiness and Tedium” by Being Empty and Tedious Problem
I actually think this is what The Unconsoled is doing. The problem is that while exploring emptiness and tedium is interesting as an idea for a book, and might make a great short story, it is not interesting AS a book – especially one that is 500 pages.
And here’s a related problem.
Right now, I’m looking at a kitchen full of dirty dishes I need to clean up before I go to bed. If I want to explore the emptiness and tedium of life, I can think of no better method than washing those dishes. As a bonus, when I’m done, the dishes are washed.
At which point I could read a book that tells me something other than the fact that life can be empty and tedious, which – by the way – I already know because I just finished washing the d@mn dishes for somewhere between the 7,000th and 8,000th d@mn time in my life.
The Length for Length’s Sake and Difficulty for Difficulty’s Sake Problems
I don’t think Ishiguro wrote a long, difficult book just because he wanted the prestige of having written a long, difficult book.
First, Ishiguro doesn’t seem like that kind of guy looking at his body of work. Second, to say that would be to accuse Ishiguro of writing in bad faith, and I don’t know that to be true, and it may not be possible to know that about The Unconsoled.
But I wonder if Ishiguro was tempted or influenced by the desire for the prestige, considering the result. Writers, despite our often shy reputations, are just as vain as the next artist, after all.
Maybe Ishiguro’s ambition was greater than his inspiration or talent. It happens all the time in novels. If fact, it might happen every time. That would make The Unconsoled an honest effort. But it doesn’t necessarily make it one worth reading.
I actually love this book (or did when i read it nearly 20 years ago – maybe I wouldn’t now?) However I also really loved this review! Very funny, thanks
I’d be glad to know what you liked because I’ve been wrong about books before, will certainly be wrong again, and may well be wrong about this one. Thanks!
I kinda liked all the stuff you hate – the aimless stumbling around and getting lost, both inside and outside his own mind. Go figure!
Everyone should like what they like …which I know is an obvious statement. I think the first 150 pages of Moby Dick are hilarious, for example, some chapters excepted. Most people look at me as if I’m nuts when I say this. Although, honestly, the reaction is so common, it can be hard to tell one trigger from the next. Thanks for stopping by. P.
Haha, this is a great review. I’ve never read this book, but I agree completely with many of the points you’ve made.
Thanks. I haven’t read any of Kazuo’s other books, and from what I seen about them, I think I would like them better than “The Unconsoled”. “Remains of the Day” comes immediately to mind as one I will need to catch.
Thanks. I will read difficult books, but I’d prefer my reaction at the end to be “wow” rather than “meh”. Of course, I may be completely not getting it. I did go looking for hints from other reviewers, but I didn’t find any tips for seeing the book in a way I hadn’t. The folks just seemed to like what Ishiguro did better than I did.
Psst! It’s a dream. Ryder (Ishiguro) is narrating a dream. Don’t overthink it.
Yes! That explanation makes more sense than any of my guesses and feels right and makes me like the idea of the book much more than I did before. The problem is … I’m not sure it makes me like having read the book any more or makes me want to reread it. I might jump in again, here and there, and see how it goes. Very much appreciate the comment. P.
I was frustrated with the book the whole way through, yet strangely couldn’t put it down, fascinated…like a metaphor for life which has so many senseless moments, yet we cling to it anyway and in spite of it all.
As you could probably tell, I identify with the frustrated reaction, in part because of the length of the scenes in the novel. I kept thinking, okay, I believe I understand the basic dynamic here. Are the next twenty pages going to be more of the same? I did a lot of skimming. One of the other commenters said Ishiguro was narrating a dream, which makes a lot of sense to me. The best I can say is the novel leaves me with a nagging sensation that I’ve missed the point, so I’m always glad to hear what others have to say about it!
Yes, it does seem very dream-like, but somehow, thinking of it that way takes all of the tension out of the story for me. I do think there are moments in the real world where things seem beyond belief–and in this novel, they just happen one after another…
Have you read his other novels? I just created a Learnist board that has an intro for and selects a review for each: http://learni.st/users/160368/boards/43765-an-introduction-to-kazuo-ishiguro-s-novels
I read “Never Let Me Go” and both liked it, and thought it had some problems. (There is also a review of that book on the blog.) I’ll definitely check out the board because it looks like I’ve made a minor hobby of spanking Ishiguro, and I think the truth is I just have picked the wrong books so far.
I put this book in paper recycle, half-read. I have read Tolstoy, Pynchon, Proust. This book is a tedious repetitive rubbish that at best could have been a short story. Ishiguro should be ashamed for foisting this brick on his public.
Hey Austin. Thanks for the comment. As you could tell, I basically agree with you although I don’t have any argument with Ishiguro publishing the book. The best I can say is that I agree with the comment left by “Charles Ryder” that the book is meant to narrate a dream. That seems to nail it. But I really really didn’t enjoy reading this narrated dream or find it interesting other than as an idea for a book. Some folks do seem to like it, which puzzles me, but I’m happy to let them enjoy what they enjoy.
Hi, another comment that sums up how I feel about the book:
I did not enjoy reading it. I couldn’t put it down. There are scenes from it that still resonate with me. I’m sure I learned something from it. I’m not sure what I learned. I wouldn’t recommend it to most people. But to some people I would. I’m not sure beforehand who those people are.
That’s a really interesting response. Many times, I’ve said … That book / composition / painting / etc. was well done but I didn’t enjoy it … and I can see that being true of The Unconsoled. But I’ve never had any book resonate with me that I didn’t also enjoy. The closest I can get is the category of “interesting failures” which can be more fun than “dull successes” sometimes. Trying to think of an example. Django Unchained is the only thing coming to mind at the moment. My brain is having a slow day.