Optimus2g

One of the scenes that stood out to me from the first 151 pages of this novel by Kazuo Ishiguro was when the civic leaders at Brodsky's table pretended to display how grief stricken they were at the Memorial for Brodsky's dog, Bruno; to paraphrase a little (bottom of p. 139-top of p. 140): "...in their anxiety to set good examples, they adopted ludicrously exaggereated postures of grief. One of them, for instance, was clutching his forehead in both hands" I just could care less about how people like this could fawn at this drunkard's feet over the loss of his dog. The novel just seems to be a little "Twlight Zone-ish" to me, yet makes you want to read on to see what happens next, almost out of a sense of wanting to see where this discombobulated atmosphere that Ishiguro has created is ultimately leading up to. For this, I have to really give him credit. There is, it seems, "a method to his madness," so to speak. I don't quite see it yet, but it is certainly unique and I understand how a book such as this is part of the reading for a seminar on Dreams.