Interesting moment in this Paris Review interview with Ishiguro, and one that speaks to a question that I’m sure I’m not alone in having. Namely, why exactly it is that doing a pseudo-pontilist autofictional of quotidian life in North London (or Brooklyn, or Northern New Jersey, or wherever it woud be that I’d live now were I still over there) wouldn’t work in the same way that Knausgård’s rendition of the same sort of thing in Norway and Sweden does (adjusting, of course, for compositional ability and the like).
Is that when you began writing A Pale View of Hills?
Yes, and Robert McCrum at Faber gave me my first advance so that I could finish it. I had started a story set in a Cornish town about a young woman with a disturbed child, who had a murky background. I had it in my mind that this woman would alternate between saying, I’m going to devote myself to the child, and, I’ve fallen in love with this man and this child is a nuisance. I’d met many people like this when I was working with the homeless. But when I got this tremendous response to the Japanese short story from my classmates, I went back and looked at the story set in Cornwall. I realized that if I told this story in terms of Japan, everything that looked parochial and small would reverberate.
The truth is, strangely enough, that Norway is just far enough away – and, luckily, a place very few of us in Anglo-America have visited – to allow for a certain micro-verberation, a little hum underneath the ordinary. Berlin wouldn’t have worked, nor would Rome. Ferrante’s Naples works for a related, if slight different reason… On the other hand, would we feel a work to fit into this incipient tradition if it was more exotic than these – would it tilt into auto-ethnography?