
Ben Marcus Reads Kazuo Ishiguro
The New Yorker: Fiction
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I Love That You Don't Know What You're Doing
There's a sense of this desperate feeling he has about his past. And then there's shame. I love that we don't know what he did. It seems as though the story wants to kind of generate these moments of terrible shame for him and then he's left completely alone. So it's an anxious, but it's also about regret. And it's about being strange and feeling strange and not knowing what to do.
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