A Pale View of Hills - A Review (Warning:Contains Spoilers)
The kind of greatness that Ishiguro achieved with ‘The Remains of the Day’ saw its inception in the very poignant ‘A Pale View of Hills’. As a reader of Ishiguro’s work, it would be ideal to read the latter book before the former. However, I came to know of Ishiguro’s brilliance only in the late 2000s, and it became quite inevitable for ‘The Remains of the Day’ to be my first Ishiguro book, considering its unprecedented success.
‘A Pale View of Hills’ is often criticized for painting its characters in broad strokes, devouring them of any real emotions. But, in his defense, I feel Ishiguro was just gearing up to be his real self in the years following his first book. And, ‘A pale view of hills’ has every right be called a beautiful, albeit a bit understated piece of literature.
It’s the story of Etsuko, a Japanese woman now living alone in England, dwelling on the recent suicide of her daughter. Retreating into the past, she finds herself reliving one particular hot summer in Nagasaki, when she and her friends struggled to rebuild their lives after the war. But then as she recalls her strange friendship with Sachiko – a wealthy woman reduced to vagrancy – the memories take on a disturbing cast.
Etsuko has two daughters – Keiko with her first husband Jiro and Niki with her second husband. Both Keiko and Niki grow up in England and for reasons made unknown to the reader, Keiko commits suicide. This triggers the sad reminiscence of Etsuko’s life of one hot summer in Nagasaki —- a Nagasaki that is recovering from the horrendous impact of the atom bomb. The reminiscence is about a good friend Sachiko and her troubled child Mariko. There are parallels between Mariko and Keiko in terms of a troubled childhood.
Sachiko is living in a derelict condition with her daughter Mariko and is desperately trying to make ends meet. She is trying to move to America with her boyfriend Frank, whose identity is never revealed to the readers. Mariko hates Frank and does not want to move out of Japan. Ishiguro has kept this novel open to various interpretations. We don’t know what happened to Sachiko and Mariko when they move to Kobe, in anticipation to immigrate to America. Similarly, the fate of Jiro, Etsuko’s first husband is kept open to discussions.
But, the most remarkable achievement of the book is its unusual narrative. There is a nonlinear nature of conversations. None of the characters say anything directly. It’s there and yet it’s not there. The picture is clear yet hazy. It’s like drawing figures on a smudged window in the cold, you are aware what’s just in front of you but remain oblivious to what lies ahead.
Ishiguro is a master of telling stories of loss and melancholy and he proves his mettle even in his first book. He grips the reader with an invisible leash and let go of it only after the last page. Another fascinating part of the book is the inner conflicts of Etsuko and her almost surreal relationship with Sachiko and Mariko.
Although open to interpretations, a reader can wonder about the true identity of Sachiko and the unshakable similarities between Keiko and Mariko.
There are many things that are merely touched on, such as a bout of child murders in Nagasaki and a dream that Etsuko has in England about a child on a swing. Ultimately, it would seem that Sachiko is actually Etsuko and that Mariko never existed and is Etsuko’s projection into dealing with Keiko’s suicide and the guilt she feels, hence the neglect that Sachiko demonstrates towards Mariko. This is a very simplistic conclusion. There are so many subtle touches such as Etsuko mentioning more than once that Mariko has a piece of rope stuck around her ankle or the way that another character constantly implies that she is depressed. The main clue is the way the narrative jumps from third to first person as Etsuko addresses Mariko that really makes you stop and reconsider whether this is a straight telling of a story or not.
Moreover, Ishiguro does a great job of building an accurate picture of the Japanese society that is changing. The conversations between Jiro and his father Ogata-san, Jiro and his visiting friends or Ogata-san and Shigeo Matsuda – a student of Ogata-san portray this society and its traditions quite brilliantly.
Ishiguro writes with such subtle nuance that it’s hard not to appreciate the book despite its some obvious shortcomings. It’s a great book dealing with loss and guilt and proves to be an ideal start to Ishiguro’s works.
