Booker prize? One of the Guardian’s ‘books you can’t live without?’ The emperor has no clothes!
Not seriously though, of course this book is objectively good, I was just horrified to slowly fall into the literary gaping maw of what feels like some bizarre ultra-niche genre fiction that Ishiguro has created. ANOTHER tale of an elderly man looking back on their life with regret, deftly told through things unsaid and an implicit tone given the polite society. This really is the Snatch to the Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels that is ‘Artist of the Floating World’, and they’re just three years apart!
I appreciate that a theme can be crafted and improved upon but my goodness, great works are supposed to be unique! I was sorely disappointed.