Rating: 
Summary: Haunting, but frustrating.
Review: Although I usually like Ishiguro, I found this book disappointing, lacking coherence, its purpose muddy. The first half of the book is suspenseful, tautly constructed, and realistically presented, as we learn of Christopher Banks's history and of the ironies of his parents' disappearance. Once he arrives in Shanghai, however, the book splits into two seemingly disconnected halves-the first half realistic, the second half absurd. In the first half, Banks has been revealed as intelligent and sensitive, but in the second half he suddenly and cruelly abandons his own adopted, orphaned daughter, leaving her in England while he searches for his missing parents. He believes (strangely) that somehow if he can find his parents, he'll be able to avert World War II. His search for them is expedited more by an inordinate number of extraordinary coincidences than by the detective work for which he is supposedly world-renowned. The plot stumbles, and the suspense is compromised. Since Ishiguro has dealt in past novels with the idea of imperfect memory and/or with characters whose deluded visions of themselves are presented ironically to the reader as facts, one cannot help wondering, while reading the second half, whether Banks really is a great detective, whether he really is doing all the absurd things he presents to us as real events in Shanghai, and whether the author is deliberately showing him in a surreal, rather than real, world. If this is the author's intention, it is by no means clear--there are too few clues in the first half to cause the reader to actively question the view of reality presented there. In addition, it is not accompanied in the second half by any heightened sense of introspection or by any change from the realistic tone and style of the first half. Neither Banks nor the reader learns anything significant on any level other than that of plot. Ultimately, I found myself haunted by the drama of Banks's search and by his need to resolve the mysteries in his life but frustrated-and annoyed--by his ultimate lack of change and by the unresolved mysteries with which the author leaves us. The author made me feel like a pawn, the victim of literary trickery.
Rating: 
Summary: Fine, baffling novel
Review: Booker Prize winner Kazuo Ishiguro was born in Japan in 1954 and emigrated to England at age 5. A graceful, deliberate writer, the shifting, elusive boundary between inner and outer reality and the power of self-delusion animates his unusual, character driven novels. Cultural displacement and youthful trauma contribute to the character of Christopher Banks, the narrator of "When We Were Orphans." An English boy born in Shanghai at the turn of the 19th century, Christopher lives a protected, idyllic life in the Foreign Settlement until first his father, then his mother vanish mysteriously when he is 10. Shipped off to the English "home" he has never seen, to live with an aunt he has never met, Christopher studies Englishness and works to fit in, guided by his single-minded vocation to become a "great detective" and eventually solve the mystery of his parents' disappearance. The book opens in 1930, with Christopher satisfactorily established in his detective career, looking back on his post-Cambridge start. Correctly English, reserved and self-possessed, he notes with irritation the inaccurate memories of old schoolmates who remember him as an "odd bird" at school, "since my own memory is that I blended perfectly into English school life." Indeed, he has always prided himself on his quick assimilation of mannerisms, turns of phrase and other trappings of Englishness. But the first cracks in the reliability of his narration have appeared. Social advancement attests to his vocational success. He tells us of triumphant cases but we never see him at work or know what his cases are about. Instead the increasingly distinguished events he attends provide the proofs of his success. The most socially grasping socialite in London, a woman who routinely snubbed him in his early years, now seeks his society. In a quickly regretted moment of pride and vengeance, Christopher snubs her. Apologizing, he learns she, too, is an orphan and she explains that what he views as her ruthless social climbing is actually "ambition." "When I marry, it will be to someone who'll really contribute. I mean to humanity, to a better world. Is that such an awful ambition? I don't come to places like this in search of famous men, Christopher. I come in search of distinguished ones." All of this, inevitably, is leading to Christopher's return to Shanghai. It's 1937. The world is on the brink of war and the Japanese are invading China, which is already torn by civil strife between nationalists and communists. Christopher leaves behind the orphan girl he adopted and pursues his greatest triumph - the rescue of his parents from their 20-year imprisonment and the saving of the world from evil. Does he somehow think finding his parents will end the prospect of world war? And who is the odd English official who follows him around seeking Christopher's advice on where to hold the party celebrating his parents' return? Like an opium dream (and opium is the scourge of relations between Europe and China), the boundaries between fantasy and reality become hopelessly blurred as Christopher plunges into the maelstrom of the Shanghai underworld, political factions and history. Between blunders, rages and mysterious meetings, Christopher recalls the world of his youth. Even as a boy he understood that his comfortable, idyllic life was a thing apart from the reality of Shanghai. Warned against leaving the foreign compound, he catches glimpses of the misery of homeless, opium-addicted Chinese. In his own home, long periods of cold silence between his parents ripple the placid surface of his existence. Though his father earns a comfortable living with a company that supports the opium trade, his mother is an avid crusader against it. In the recollections of his youth, Christopher seems on solid ground. His father remains a blurred, remote figure but his mother emerges as a vibrant, fierce and gentle person. In the unsettled time between his father's and his mother's disappearance, Christopher plays detective with his best friend Akira, a Japanese boy whose brief brush with life in his native country leaves him in terror of being sent back. It's Akira who inspired Christopher to his life's pursuit yet his search for his boyhood friend is surprisingly desultory and haphazard. Memories, though blurred by time or skewed by a child's perception, provide the rational background for an increasingly irrational present. Yet, what seems delusion is often unexpectedly confirmed by an outside source. The overall impression is a Kafka-like confusion. What is true, what delusion? We expect a book to tell us, to fit the big picture into a manageable frame, to leave us with a sense of wholeness and completion. Ishiguro leaves the reader wondering. Is he saying we are all products of a big picture no one can accurately see? Or of our own unreliable narration? You decide. The journey is worth the uncertainty.
Rating: 
Summary: Remains of the Day + The Unconsoled = When We Were Orphans?
Review: Ishiguro is a cartographer of inner life and history. Another remarkable book by our finest living novelist.
Rating:
Summary: Complimenting the reader with a subtle pen
Review: It is difficult not to think of Ismail Merchant, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, and James Ivory when reading this book. Merchant Ivory's films are consistently exceptional in there own right, while never dismembering the book you may have so enjoyed. But to think this is anything less than a brilliant piece of writing would be unfair, and to suggest this is a ready-made screenplay is absurd. Mr. Ishiguro is a magnificent writer. He need not be shrill to make a point, nor profane to shock or maintain the reader's attention. The cadence of this novel is leisurely, and being such it produces widely disparate understandings amongst readers. I enjoyed parts of all the 6 reviews I read, as I was not the only one who wasn't precisely sure when I had found solid ground when reading this work. I believe if read a second time the truth would be very apparent. That a second effort may be required is yet another testament to the writer, and in no way insulting to the reader. The protagonist suffers painful events as a child. There is no reasonable way they could not cause terrible damage, and then leave their scars. Mr. Ishiguro explores this gently, just as the victim may not overtly manifest outrageous behavior. His careful treatment of Christopher is not vague or deficient, it reads as being appropriate, and exposes the results of his traumas with the time and care they need. "Threads" are often used to describe the storyline of a work. In many books I would suggest they are more like mooring ropes. In this book threads is being generous, for the first person narrative is not written deceptively, but can be construed differently by a group of readers. I think this is great. It's quite rare to read a contemporary work that does not hammer away at a tired theme, disclose the end when the prologue has barely been passed, or just insult the reader by presuming we are encephalitic illiterates. (Not trying to showboat, just loved the sound of those two words) It took what was probably the most jarring event to finally convince me I wasn't lost. And the event was much closer to the end than the start. What is real, and what is not will be decided by how carefully you read, and how cautious you are with the limitations of first person narrative. It is not a method that allows for much independent verification. However, I never felt frustrated, as the writer is so good and the read so enjoyable. I wish I could say more, but I would ruin what the book will be for you. I can say you will enjoy the read immensely.
Rating: 
Summary: I admit--I don't get it.
Review: OK, I admit it...I just don't get the point of the book. The prose is well written. But for what purpose? Page after page of somewhat tedious, wandering details. If I hadn't read other reviews, I would be even more baffled. I was ready for a subtle and complex book, but I guess it's too much so for me. It's not a detective story of course. Maybe it's the author's self-analysis? I dunno.
Rating:
Summary: A whodunnit with no who and no it
Review: After being dazzled by his previous works "Remains of the Day" and "A Pale View of Hills", I was left disappointed by Kazuo Ishiguro this time around. The book starts out great -- an historical whodunnit mystery about a boy whose parents are kidnapped in Shanghai in the early 1900's, who then returns years later to find them. But this book can't figure out what it wants to be... it's a mystery for awhile, then a romance, then a psychadelic journey into the mind of a sick man. In the end, it fails to satisfy the reader on any of those counts. Furthermore, Ishiguro does a poor job of bringing colonial Shanghai to life in the mind of the reader. That's a real shame, given that Shanghai during this period was one of the most exciting and stimulating cities in the world. Nevertheless I remain a devoted fan of Kazuo Ishiguro. Let's hope that he gets out of this slump and that his next book is as good as his earlier works.
Rating:
Summary: Too poetic, but I love the novel.
Review: This is a little strange detective story. Christopher Banks is one of the most celebrated detectives in 1930s England. He solved many incidents. One day he decided to return to Shanghai. He grew up there but his parents' sudden disappearance (kidnapping?) made him go back to England. After returning to Shanghai, the famous detective seems to become incompetent. A reader might wonder why he can't recover his parents. I think it's because, in fact, he's not a conventional detective, but he's an 'artist' who wants to help the world. He believed earnestly the world would collapse unless he recovers his parents. So the exaggerated description of his struggle becomes comical and surreal. Just like Ryder, the protagonist of Ishiguro's previous novel, 'The Unconsoled,' Banks does not have the power to solve the problem. Changing the world is beyond his power. So his struggle is a kind of nightmare, not a realistic investigation. But once the reader realizes it's not a detective story but a kind of love story, the novel will move him deeply. And the reader, too, will become an 'orphan' in this real world. Too poetic, but I love the novel.
Rating:
Summary: Straightforward Book
Review: In his previous novels, he has explored this inner world and its manifestations in the lives of his characters with rare inventiveness and subtlety, shrewd humor and insight. The story is straightforward. It's telling is remarkable. Christopher's voice is detailed and detached, it's precision unsurpusing in someone who has devoted his life to the examination of details and rigors of objective thought.
Rating:
Summary: The grass is greeneland...
Review: This tale is mostly set in Shanghai, familiar enough for most readers from Ballard's autobiographical 'Empire of the Sun'. Ishiguro's novel is also concerned with biography. Christopher Banks, his anti-hero, is one of the most deluded characters that you'll ever find in fiction, with his tragedy reflecting that of Oedipus. Not that the method which Banks uses for introspection is psychoanalytic in any way, for you never get the impression that Banks is fuelled by sexual desire, despite his on/off relationship with Sarah Hemmings (another one of the orphans of the title). Part of Banks' character seems forever trapped in an 'innocent', desexualised state of childhood. When he is still young in Shanghai, both Christopher Banks' parents are kidnapped, his mother some time after his father. His father's company, Butterfield and Swire, then ship Banks 'home', to England - but Christopher still regards the International Settlement in Shanghai as his home. Despite this, Christopher makes the very best of settling into England and English society. But he can never leave the fate of his parents behind... He continues the detective games he'd played with his Japanese friend Akira in Shanghai, imagining himself to be the illustrious Inspector Kung, always on the point of discovering his mother and father. These fictions continue into adult life, with Christopher becoming a fully-fledged detective. There is some unease to be had from such a character, an air of disbelief and unreality. Surely such heroes as Lord Peter Wimsey and Campion only ever existed in fiction? Perhaps this is why his peers sometimes shatter Banks' illusions, because they can always see that he is maintaining a facade. However, there are plenty of people who humour Banks, making him believe in his own myth - that by solving the mystery of his parents' disappearance, he can somehow avert the impending catastrophe of World War II. Now, to a modern day audience, this conviction appears to be quite absurd. But no more absurd, surely, than resurrecting Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes to fight the Nazis? Ishiguro in no way camps up the figure of the English detective. Banks is not presented as some grey-haired Miss Marple or little grey brain-celled Hercule Poirot - Banks takes himself far too seriously to equate himself with such parodies. In some ways though, his young machismo does resemble that of Richard Hannay. In the final third of the novel, Ishiguro conspires with the reader to hope for Banks' success, and you collude in this despite your better judgment. It is here when the narrative is most gripping, most telling. In this way, 'When We Were Orphans' resembles the narratives of Graham Greene, partly 'entertainment', and partly exposition of the grotesques of British colonialism. Perhaps there's also a dash of Waugh's black humour, although Ishiguro never lets us entertain anything as much as a belly laugh. For the British, this is an especially grim tale. Banks' father does work in the despicable opium trade, after all. In the early part of the twentieth century, the British government had a rather different attitude to drugs control, one that still affects us today (heroin is derived from opium). In English literature, there are plenty of examples of the wretches seduced by laudanum (such as the heroine of Joanne Harris' excellent 'Sleep, Pale Sister'), but such characters are usually English. What Ishiguro does here is to allow us a glimpse into how the Chinese suffered from the opium trade. At school in England, Banks strives to be more English than the English, which becomes a key part of his identity. He is never a truly unpleasant British colonial, but he very much believes in the dream of empire. His Japanese friend, Akira, has a more overt struggle with his cultural heritage. Banks' desire to be fully British in the multi-cultural city of Shanghai makes him turn to Uncle Phillip, a friend of his parents. What Ishiguro seems to be saying here is that nurture is very much stronger than nature. Those born in the Victorian era will never fully shake off Victorian hypocrisies concerning the 'innocence' of both women and children. It may seem to some that Ishiguro's resolution is far too fabulous to be believed, like something from the Arabian Nights. However, if you look into the history and the narratives left by the inhabitants of the International Settlement of Shanghai, you'll find much fact which echoes Ishiguro's fiction. Chinese merchants in Shanghai set up an Anti-Kidnapping Society in 1912, for reasons related to this story. According to research by Robert Bickers, it is very hard to find data about the Inspector Kungs of the Shanghai Municipal Police, as Banks discovers when he returns there in 1937 (whilst the records of British and Irish SMP officers are very easy to come across). It is also quite instructive to compare Banks' voice with the imperial memoir left by the acting commissioner of the Shanghai Police of the time: Maurice Springfield's 'Hunting Opium and Other Scents'. Jardine, Matheson and Co. was a real company which 'made its fortune in opium smuggling'. Huang Jinrong, the police chief of the French concession, is widely acknowledged to have been in cahoots with Du Yue-sheng, a notorious triad king. But why should we care about events in Shanghai a century ago? It could be that Ishiguro is determined to repeat the success of 'Remains of the Day'. The setting is very cinematic, and you can almost see Kristin Scott Thomas and Ralph Fiennes inside the gramophone shop. But the image which most resounds throughout this novel is that of the blind (ha! ha!) being held together by its thin twine. What happens when the 'twine' ('tradition' and 'heritage') snaps? It could be that Ishiguro is examining a much more modern topic: English nationalism. With recent devolution, some English politicians have raised this issue (for better or worse, it's hard to tell). But what are the implications for the future if we are all orphans now?
Rating:
Summary: FICTION AT ITS FINEST PENNED BY A MASTER
Review: Nagasaki born London based novelist Kazuo Ishiguro has produced animpressive body of work which has brought him international acclaim,as well as a number of coveted awards - the Winifred Holtby Prize ofthe Royal Society of Literature, the Whitbread Book of the Year, andthe Booker Prize. His third novel, The Remains Of The Day, has beencalled one of the most beautifully written in contemporary Englishliterature. The same may be said of his latest, When We Were Orphans,an unparalleled masterpiece of limitless imagination and impeccableprose. In several of Mr. Ishiguro's previous offerings theprotagonist reflects upon his life and the events that have molded it.So it is once more as we meet Christopher Banks, an Englishman whoenjoyed an early childhood of comparative luxury with his mother andfather in Shanghai, China. Their home was owned by Morganbrook andByatt, the British company for whom the boy's father worked, a companywhich seemingly bore some responsibility for the opium trade. As anadult Christopher believes he can remember "a tirade ofcontrolled ferocity" which his mother delivered to an inspectorfrom Morganbrook and Byatt. When the official suggested that shedismiss certain servants lest they be involved with opium, his mothercountered with, "You presume, sir, to talk to me, on behalf ofthis of all firms, about opium?" "Are you not ashamed, sir?As a Christian, as an Englishman, as a man with scruples? Are you notashamed to be in the service of such a company? At the age of nine,Christopher is abruptly left alone when first his father and then hismother mysteriously disappear. The boy is dispatched to the care ofan aunt who lives in England. Christopher meets this tragedy withsurprising equanimity, as he remembers thinking during the voyage toEngland that although he missed his parents "there would alwaysbe other adults I would come to love and trust." Upon completionof his schooling Christopher fulfills his dream of becoming adetective, a famous one at that. But the unexplained disappearance ofhis parents has haunted him and he returns to Shanghai in 1937, at theheight of the Sino-Japanese conflagration, to piece this puzzletogether. He is also in hopes of being reunited with Akira, hisboyhood friend, with whom he spent many happy hours playing fancifulgames of their own invention. And perhaps even locating Mei Li, theamah or maid, who had taken such dutiful care of him. Initially,Christopher's arrival in Shanghai engenders more questions thananswers. But, he does find his friend, Akira, as well as InspectorKung, his childhood hero and the renowned detective who had headed theinvestigation of his father's disappearance. In addition, he doeseventually solve the puzzle. Yet, the heart of Mr. Ishiguro'sintriguing work is not to be found in the unraveling of a mystery, butrather in the labyrinth of human mind and memory - what is real, whatis imagined, what is wished for? When We Were Orphans is the resultof a gifted, meditative author in praiseworthy form. It is a marvelof exquisitely drawn controlled prose, a complexly plotted drama, oneto be savored and admired.
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