Found this book by accident: I was looking for books by Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro (who actually wrote The remains of the day, a book that became a Merchant and Ivory film), and saw this one; intrigued, I took it. Started to read it, and did consider that it would open up into a wonderful book. But it never did. Stopped at page 70. Perhaps I read one too many works of fiction in a row. Whatever the case, I moved on.
A reviewer was ambivalent about the book.
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