LITERATURE: The Unconsoled Inconsistency

There has to be something I simply haven’t caught onto yet in this novel, as the inconsistencies mount and are far beneath a prizewinning author unless they are planned and point to a reasonable cause.

Sophie grasped my arm. ‘If you want, I’ll make a completely clean breast of it. I’ll tell you everything. Everything you want to know about…’

‘Look, how many more times do I have to say this? I’m not in the least interested. All I want just now is to unwind. There’s going to be a lot of pressure on me over these next few days.’

She continued to hold my arm and for a while we walked together in silence. Then she said quietly: ‘It’s so good of you. To be so understanding.’  (p. 89)

Uh, that just doesn’t compute. In his state of mind why wouldn’t he want to find out what Sophie has to tell him? Surely her words are intrigueing and I don’t get his rebuff. And then, when he’s told us several times that he hasn’t a clue about his schedule and seems to plan on winging it instead of breaking down and asking someone, he now tells us that “there’s going to be a lot of pressure on me over these next few days.”

How weird is that?

I doubt that Ishiguro has flubbed it; I may have missed something or I may simply need to be patient or a bit quicker of mind.

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