Kazuo Ishiguro, best known for his book \The Remains of the Day,"" has returned to form with his most recent offering, ""Never Let Me Go."" With isolated characters who recall their best days, now far behind them, and teasing details that alternately hide and reveal the full premise of the book, ""Never Let Me Go"" is surprisingly unsettling and strangely alluring to the final page.
The Daily Cardinal recently spoke with Ishiguro about early success, the pressure on new authors and life after ""The Remains of the Day.""
The Daily Cardinal: Your first novel, ""A Pale View of the Hills,"" won the Winifred Holtby Prize. What did you think of finding early success?
Kazuo Ishiguro: Just winning any prize for a first novel makes you more conspicuous, I guess. I didn't rocket to stardom the way some people do with their first-novel, for example somebody like Zadie Smith (author of ""White Teeth""). She had one novel and she was a major talent. I was young and by the time my second novel (""An Artist of the Floating World"") came out, it received pretty widespread notice. It was nominated for the Booker and it won another prize and so on.
But it was around the time I won the Booker Prize with my third novel (""The Remains of the Day"") when I was still 34 years of age. That's the first time I guess I had an international profile. It was still at a relatively early age.
It's easier for younger writers these days to peak early in Britain. In Britain there's this climate where a young writer bringing out his first novel can rocket to fame and within two books, can vanish from the scene altogether. I worry about that. It's quite tough for younger writers.
I had a much more stable upbringing as a literary novelist. The marketplace wasn't quite so commercialized in literary fiction when I began, and I'm quite grateful for that.
DC: One example of that here in the States is Jonathon Safran Foer's first novel (""Everything is Illuminated"") that immediately made him a literary celebrity.
KI: I think for writers who are still trying to find their own identity, this is very confusing. I can think of a few writers in Britain, someone like David Mitchell (author of ""The Cloud Atlas""), who everyone is talking about at the moment, who is always going to have the feeling that he's failed unless each of his books at least gets nominated for a major literary award.
At the same time he has to sell. That's an awfully tall order to put on young writers who are trying to figure out their voice and what they're supposed to be doing in their world of writing.
DC: When you won the Booker Prize for ""The Remains of the Day,"" did you feel that you came up more quickly as a writer than you suspected you would have?
KI: Just before ""The Remains of the Day"" I had been talked about as a writer who was supposed to go places. There were an awful lot of expectations on me.
Winning the Booker was more of a relief. I just felt that if I didn't win it with my next book, it could just go on indefinitely. I would say that having to cope with all the outside pressures of being a writer began with my second novel.
""The Remains of the Day"" took away some of that pressure, not just because it was internationally successful and was made into that movie-which I thought was wonderful-but it brought about publicity tours and other complications of that sort. Psychologically I felt the pressure leave me at that point.
I don't think the Booker Prize per se necessarily establishes careers, but in combination with other things it really puts people on the map. There have been plenty of Booker Prize winners that people have forgotten about three or four years later.
DC: There are two authors who have won the Booker Prize twice. Some reviews are calling ""Never Let Me Go"" your finest work to date. Do you feel it's a possibility of grabbing the award again, or do you prefer not to think of getting another award?
KI: At this stage in my career I'm less concerned about awards. Awards are useful if you're relatively unknown. An award like that can give you a much larger audience. That's primarily why it's valuable.
I don't really need the platform that comes with a major prize anymore. In a way I feel I shouldn't be winning those prizes. Part of the point of those prizes is bringing writers to wider attention.
I don't think in terms of prizes anymore. I did when I was a young writer, because that seemed the fastest way up.
I'm grateful if people think my latest work, that I'm publishing at the age of 50, is comparable to something I published in my mid-30s, partly because I believe novelists peak in their mid-30s.
