
This deserves way more space than I'm going to give it. Formally brilliant, exquisitely executed novel demonstrating once again that Ishiguro is our contemporary master of the unreliable first-person narrator. It's like
The Good Soldier meets
Austerlitz. Drags a bit toward the end, pressing its points more than it needs to, not out of nervousness, I don't think, that we're not following, but rather out of a kind of bored mastery, like a lion batting at her prey.
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