It began with dizzying dullness: “My name is Kathy H. His previous novel, “Never Let Me Go” (2005), contained passages that appeared to have been entered in a competition called The Ten Most Boring Fictional Scenes. He avoids ornament or surplus, and seems to welcome cliché, platitude, episodes as bland as milk, an atmosphere of oddly vacated calm whose mild persistence comes to seem teasingly or menacingly unreal. Kazuo Ishiguro writes a prose of provoking equilibrium-sea-level flat, with unseen fathoms below. Ishiguro has set out to write a novel about people without memory.
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