Kazuo Ishiguro’s “The Unconsoled,” is a three hundred-and-sixty degree turn from the other five books I have read by this amazing author. First, it is at least three times the size of all his other novels, and secondly there are so many characters that he brings to life that he paints a picture of a small town that the great Leonardo Da Vinci would be proud of. He uses three types of narrative (a stream of consciousness, first person, and dreams) and in my life I have only come across three other authors who have been able to achieve this level of expertise using three different types. Those three authors are Toni Morrison, James Joyce, and Marcel Proust.

“The Unconsoled,” is a literary achievement of the highest order. If this review appears small compared to the praise I have bestowed on other books, it is simply because I have a habit of reviewing the greatest novels I have read in either a few words, or a paragraph or two. Tolstoy’s, “Anna Karerina,” a literary achievement very few have ever matched.


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