This is my third review of Pulitzer Prize-winning author Kazuo Ishiguro, and I have to admit, he’s done it again! The Buried Giant is a superb fantasy tale told in a way only Ishiguro can. Very reminiscent of the fairy tales of yore, the book reminded me of my favorite fantasy classics, including The Last Unicorn and The Neverending Story; in fact, before looking up its publication date, I was convinced this was Ishiguro’s debut novel. As it turns out, The Buried Giant was released in 2015!
Unlike many of today’s Tolkienesque world-building tomes, Ishiguro’s tale is a brisk read, light on details, with a focus on his characters’ emotional journey. The writing style is wispy and dreamlike, making it a delight to get through, but it also challenges you to interpret the deeper meanings behind the words. The author expertly weaves historical drama with metaphorical allegory, so you are never quite certain what is actually happening and what is symbolic, or if it even matters. This makes The Buried Giant so much more magical than your paint-by-numbers pop-fiction fare, because having your magic system reduced to a science (I’m looking at you, Sanderson) is anything but magical.
“For I suppose there’s some would hear my words and think our love flawed and broken. But God will know the slow tread of an old couple’s love for each other, and understand how black shadows make part of its whole.”
Kazuo Ishiguro, The Buried Giant
The Buried Giant‘s protagonists are truly the unlikeliest of heroes—if you can even call them that—an elderly couple suffering from memory loss, who leave their post-Arthurian hovel in the English countryside to visit their son in the next village. Along the way, they cross paths with a young Saxon warrior, a boy rescued from a band of ogres, and an aging knight, Sir Gawain (of Sir Gaiwan and the Green Knight fame). As the novel unfolds, we discover how these characters’ fates are intertwined, and how they are each haunted by a past they can only scarcely recall. Ultimately, the titular giant represents the painful truths we keep buried in the past, whether interpersonal or societal. Like Never Let Me Go and The Remains of the Day, Kazuo’s foray into the fantasy genre explores recurring themes of life, memory, and the social barriers that hinder our capacity to love one another.
The Art of Storytelling 
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