The most prominent description in most reviews of Kazuo Ishiguro's The Unconsoled is that it is "surreal" or "Kafka-esque." I am embarrassed to admit to the world that I have never read anything by Kafka and didn't see the movie with Jeremy Irons. But I have watched Joe's Apartment and Being John Malkovich, and I was a huge fan of Twin Peaks, so I think I have a grasp of the terminology. And, yes, I suppose it is accurate to say that The Unconsoled is surreal.
To a large degree, the surreal effects are derived from Ishiguro's bending of space throughout the novel. Places that seem far removed from one another turn out to be easily accessed through a series of narrow passages or underground tunnels, much like I imagine mazelike corridors beneath DisneyWorld (itself a rather surreal space). While a number of reviewers use this feature to bolster their argument that the novel represents a dream, it most reminded me of how individuals suffering from dementia attempt to rationalize their disorientation.
Once I made this connection, I read the remainder of the book in the context of Ryder (a concert pianist called to an unnamed Eastern European city to assist with an artistic crisis) as an individual with dementia. He is, like those suffering from dementia, apathetic toward others and seemingly unconcerned by how his behavior might affect them. A diagnosis of dementia would also explain his seeming ability to know what people are thinking and the events that have occurred just prior to his entering a room. He is delusional, and his delusions serve the functional purpose of helping him fill in the blanks of his increasingly porous memory. Ryder displays other symptoms of dementia, including a lack of attention to personal appearance (he attends a number of functions in his dressing gown), impaired judgment (he leaves his son alone for hours at a cafe), disrupted sleep cycle, attention deficits, and impulsivity.
Article comments
1 - kalyan
I agree with you Jeanne Daniel. It has been an exasperating experience reading this novel. I felt uneasy while going through the book. It evoked memories of a sinking feeling I had when I read Kafka's The Trial. At least, Kafka holds your attention in the sense that you are aware of what is going on, though the reasons for the same are not given. Ryder comes out as an irritating character for whom i have absolutely no sympathy. If Ishiguro wanted to convey the dilemmas that man faces in his life, he has succeeded but at what cost? I wonder how the novel won an award. It seems the author's intellectual part got the better of his instincts. This novel for sure leaves the reader unconsoled.
2 - Tim Susman
Interesting take on it! I too felt rather frustrated reading the book at first, but then as events picked up steam, I found myself engrossed. Just posted my own review and linked to yours.
3 - Sam
I was surprised when I read the reviews of thos book as I have read The Unconsoled twice and had a view on what I thought it all meant. I get the dementia angle however I had interpreted Ryders travails entirely differently as a prolonged dream sequence. The disconnected events, fear that have forgotten important events or commitments, seeming inability to 'get from a to b' in a straight line all seem very much as in a dream.
4 - dr_mabeuse
Why in the world do you feel you have to "explain" this book by saying it happens in a mental institution? It's a story, and stories need no explanation or rationalization. Ryder, Gustav, and all the rest of them are as real as Ishiguro intended them to be, and they exist exactly in the place he set for them, some nameless, timeless surreal eastern European city, not some mental hospital. I really don't understand this need to rationalize what happens as being a dream or delusion. It's magical realism. The story happens just as Ryder describes.
If there is a metaphorical intent, then I think it's probably Ishiguro commenting on the pressure on an artist to produce great work. He killed with "Remains of the Day," and was now expected to produce anther masterpiece. Ryder's in the same position in the novel -- called upon to produce art so great that it'll save an entire city, redeem its citizens, and preserve their way of life.
Instead of an artistic Unbermensch, what we get is a man who both knows and is a stranger to his own life (exactly the position the artist must take towards his life and society in order to create) and a failure as a human being. The story is superficially a farce about art and art culture. But the real theme of the book is the way we human beings let each other down. Knowing and not knowing everyone and quite oblivious, Ryder's unable to meet their needs or play his role in this bewildering society. He's a victim of expectations, a kind of soccer ball of fate, kicked around and used by everyone, totally unable to take charge of his own destiny. And so he fails as a husband, father, lover, citizen, and even artist. In the end he can console no one.
The device Ishiguro uses of putting an oblivious Ryder in a world he both knows and doesn't know makes for difficult and frustrating reading at first because it defies and denies our expectations of what a novelistic narrator should be, but it turns out to be pure genius. Reading the book makes you feel the same kind of bafflement and impotence that Ryder feels (or should feel) as he stumbles through that world intent on maintaining his dignity and preserving his commitment to his "art". Thankfully, Ishiguro's mordant sense of humor kicks in from that first endless elevator ride with Gustav and helps sustain us through what is actually a tragic story of people failing to connect.
But I really don't understand this need to "explain" the story as being anything other than what it is. No one tries to "explain" Borges or Kafka. The delusions Ryder suffers are the same delusions we all suffer, just put in a setting that uses fantasy to establish truth.
As a writer myself, I know how often I write something with no intent of it being anything other than what it is, only to be told later what I meant or what the piece is really about. I used to hate that, but now it's one of my favorite parts of the writing process. I just try to create good reads. I let the reader load in whatever meanings he or she likes. I have a feeling Ishiguro did something similar.