Monday, February 9, 2009

Orphaned

Thoroughly enjoyed Kazuo Ishiguro's When We Were Orphans, which I finished early yesterday. As I suspected from the early chapters, my reading of which was continually subject to interruption by the great and grey necessities of life, it proved an easy read in terms of unputdownability. Ishiguro is very clever in terms of planting little puzzles that you have to read on to sort out, and the prose is thrillingly bland. Has there ever been such a highly rated writer who willingly limits himself in terms of verbal fireworks to none at all? The sense of restraint is very powerful, and pervades the text in that you are aware that everything on the surface is exactly that - and what lies beneath is precisely other.

The problem is, though, that he's done this before, all the time in fact, and you realise very quickly it's going to be more of the same. Of course, that's extremely good stuff, so it's hardly a matter for complaint, but predictability in this sense is surely for writers stuck in particular genres. They may do it well, but they do it over and over.

Having said that, I do think there's something new in Orphans, but I'm not sure it's entirely to the writer's credit, though in some ways I rather enjoyed it. I'm referring the distinct sense of melodrama hovering around the novel and, with reasonable frequency, making an occasional distinct landing. The dialogue alone is extraordinarily stagey. I mean, you can really hear whole conversations as being delivered in a movie - an expensive one with bigtime backers from the States somewhere in the background but a very British movie for all that. And some of the contrived encounters, especially in the later sequences in Shanghai, make you reach for a good helping of salt.

It does lead one to suspect that Ishiguro wanted a popular success and went a little out of his way to try and get it. And why not? In the final analysis it's a darned good read. It's not often I suggest to the missus that she might like to pick up something I've put down - but this time I did.

3 comments:

Trebuchet said...

Sometimes there is something to be said for the other end of the spectrum, where the prose is colourful and the depth is not too deep. To my great and slightly guilty joy, I recently discovered that the most famous literary Singaporean of all time was now back in print.

Leslie Charteris (b. 1907 Singapore, d. 1993 Windsor, England) wrote the Saint short stories and novels from 1928. It was an invaluable contribution to the two-fisted-but-intelligent-hero genre. And sometimes when people like Ishiguro fail me, that kind of stuff perks me up.

Wiccan Wonder said...

I agree thoroughly. That's whyI had doubts about writing my EE on Orphans and ended up doing it on Remains instead. Plus, it was difficult to trudge through the simple prose when I expected the same "verbal fireworks" found in Remains. By the way, I haven't seen you for some time, Sir. Hope you're doing well.

Brian Connor said...

I last read Charteris when I was thirteen or fourteen. I don't see his stuff in libraries anymore, which is where I picked him up from.

Nice to hear from you WW. I'm very well thanks, thriving. Actually, in a sense I'm not that well as you can tell from a couple of recent entries, but I regard my back complaint as an extremely useful problem to have. Hope to see you back at the ranch some time.