A rather odd book. I’ve only read two of Ishiguro’s books – this and Remains of the Day – and it left me wondering if all his pricipal characters have a deep-rooted personality flaw. It’s certainly true here. The most curious, and for me unrealistic, part of the book is the section near the end set in the ruined slums of Shanghai, which reminds me of the feverish and nightmarish images towards the end of Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast trilogy. What should have been the climax of the book didn’t work for me, and the eventual outcome, though consistent with the character, is somehow unsatisfying. But Ishiguro writes amazingly well in the first person – the contrast in the ‘voices’ of his characters in the two books is an impressive literary achievement.