1% Well-Read Challenge: An Artist of the Floating World

Although I had to fit it in between all sorts of extra-curricular reading (think mysteries), I really enjoyed Kazuo Ishiguro's An Artist of the Floating World. It didn't hurt that I've been interested in the past in the use of art and architecture in the service of political ideology. Indeed, my undergraduate honors thesis was on the ways in which architecture and the movements of the early twentieth century were variously co-opted or derided in Italy during the fascist regime. Fun times, let me tell you, fun times. So Ishiguro's exploration of a similar topic through the musings of Japanese artist after WWII was, in a way, familiar territory.

It was also refreshing, to be quite honest, to read a work that didn't go on long past any reasonable point of stopping. This was a shorter read, and a perfect length for the story being told. It was not an epic, with deep character exploration of even peripheral figures and multiple complex plot lines. As befits the topic, the tale was told through the almost myopic view of the narrator. I am not a political scientist, but at the end of the day, don't all dictators really work from a world-view that cannot accommodate other viewpoints or experiences? That the narrator is starting to confess that he may hold some responsibility for what befalls him, his country, and his fellow artists helps to lighten what could otherwise be an oppressive and stifling atmosphere. All the while, Ishiguro manages to maintain his vulnerability and essential human appeal. In that sense, the book is truly remarkable.

I don't know what my next choice for the challenge will be. I'm avoiding Sostiene Peiriera for now, with the excuse that I'll need time to read during daylight hours and without a baby latched on and draped over one of my arms. I will need to consult my dictionary; this much is clear. If I have to pull out my old grammar textbook, so be it.

On an unrelated note, my iPod may be dying. I am in denial. Who knew I could become so attached to that which I mocked so completely? If it turns out to be true, I might just have to, as Miles puts it, "sob just a little bit."