Finally

Just finished The Unconsoled and I am officially mystified. I thought that the ending of the novel might shed some light on what Ishiguro was up to in his narrative, but for this reader it was not to be. The narrator's final conversation with the electrician on the tram and his eating of a hearty breakfast are as baffling to me as the rest of the book, yet readable in a strange way. Is this meant to be symbolic and, if so, why is it I haven't a clue as to what is being symbolised?

So far I've managed to avoid googling around to find some guidance on this peculiar text, but such is my current bafflement that I'm intending to do exactly that in the next hour or so. I'll just say, for the moment, that I've been wondering if something archly Kafkaesque is going on - like Ishiguro mixing social comedy with FK in a peculiar literary omelette. I suppose that might account for the lack of any obvious ending.

Actually, for much of my reading I was expecting some kind of Dostoyevskian meltdown at the big concert/gathering of the final pages - and felt a vague sort of dread at what I thought was coming. I've also been toying with the notion that the text is intended as some kind of extended dream or exercise in being lost in memory, but can't reach any kind of clarity with regard to such a reading. I suppose I've been hoping for some kind of revelation as to why Ishiguro opts to write so badly, but the light has not yet dawned.

More anon. I think. Unless nobody has a good explanation as to what the 500+ pages have been about.