Maybe I would characterize 2016 as a movie car chase, and 2017 as the reveal where all of us anonymous motorists who got side-swiped, flipped, forced off bridges and into concrete abutments, rise out of the wreckage yelling for real.
Old books remind you that we have been through bad things before, and will go through bad things again, and we will live through the tiny interstitial moments of joy that we get in dark times. Not because it is fair, but because we have to.
More suspenseful than any novel I read this year, more haunting than any poetry I read this year, more illuminating than any academic take on the political landscape in Libya or anyplace else, 'The Return' is a treasure.
If Ishiguro’s historical novel (about WWII, the opium wars, and the golden age of detective fiction) could speak, it would ask, 'Girl, why you so obsessed with me?'