A Pale View of Hills

by Ishiguro, Kazuo,
Published by : Faber and Faber, (London :) Physical details: 183 p. : ill. ; 20 cm. ISBN:9780571258253; 0571258255 (pbk.) :. Year: 1982
Item type Current location Call number Copy number Status Date due
Books Books British Council Library
YELLOW ZONE
F/ISH (Browse shelf) 1 Checked out 06/08/2018

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

From the Nobel Prize-winning author of The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go

In his highly acclaimed debut, Kazuo Ishiguro tells the story of Etsuko, a Japanese woman now living alone in England, dwelling on the recent suicide of her daughter.

Retreating into the past, she finds herself reliving one particular hot summer night in Nagasaki, when she and her friends struggled to rebuild their lives after the war. But then as she recalls her strange friendship with Sachiko - a wealthy woman reduced to vagrancy - the memories take on a disturbing cast.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Kirkus Book Review

The present-day troubles and dark memories of Etsuko, a Nagasaki woman now living alone in England--in a strongly moody but ineffectually structured first novel. Etsuko is now alone, divorced; one daughter, Keiko, has committed suicide; the other, Niki, English-born, lives unmarried with a man in London. And these very un-Japanese social circumstances direct Etsuko's musings back to the time in Nagasaki, a year or so after the Bomb, when things started to unravel. Memories of her first husband, Jiro, who tended to sacrifice family values (respect for his aged father) for career advancement in the newly technologizing society. The even more disturbing, anarchic story of Etsuko's friend Sachiko--who accepted the lies and evasions of an American boyfriend, even though this led to the horrendous maltreatment of her little girl, Mariko. (Mariko, emotionally battered by neglect, wandered the canals at night, unmissed, a walking symbol of victimized Nagasaki.) Throughout the novel, there's a distant overtone of destruction hovering--pieces of lives that can never be rejoined. But Ishiguro, who writes in English, pulls things seriously out of kilter with her bad weighting of flashback/flashforward technique: the doses of memory are numbing, hard to swim free from when the book attempts to pitch ahead into the present. And the result is evocative but oppressively unfocused fiction. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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