An Artist of the Floating World, has the dream-like taste of an Haiku or Hay(na)ku. It is the most reticent of Ishiguro’s novels, a sense of calmness hovers over his scenic imagination, character depth, and the spoken word. An Artist of the Floating World, is not, in the end as intoxicatingly heartbreaking as The Remains of The Day, or as emotionally disturbing as Never Let Me Go. Yet, An Artist of The Floating World is a novel which has beauty and regret percolating across all its pages, and paints an absolutely unforgettable dream-like landscape.
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