An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro

Following World War II, Americans proudly congratulated themselves, applauding both the soldiers who fought and the civilians who aided the war effort. Almost all agreed they had accomplished something grand. Even today, those alive at that time have been popularly named "the greatest generation."

Try to imagine what it must have been like to those who were the losers of the war. All their atrocities were revealed, and those who led and those who supported the leaders were blamed by the winners of the war, and often tried for war crimes. The population was encouraged to feel a national guilt, and many of the losing populations reacted by also blaming those who had led them.

An Artist of the Floating World is the story of Masuji Ono, a once-celebrated Japanese painter, in the years immediately following the war as he fills his retirement years with family concerns, house repairs, and nostalgic meetings with old associates. What should be a tranquil time, however, is marred by the changing culture and the changed perception of the younger generations toward those they feel were responsible for sacrificing the country and its youth for imperialistic designs.

Ishiguro tells his story through the first-person narration of Ono, and he is an unreliable narrator at best, even often admitting they he may have misstated or misquoted. As he recounts his current events in 1948-1950, he also tells of his path from youth to becoming an artist of posters supporting the war effort. Throughout, he tries somewhat unsuccessfully to comes to terms with his portion of the collective guilt, sometimes excusing himself for actions and at other times perhaps overestimating his contribution to the war effort.

The writing here is so understated, so restrained, so subtle, so filled with dramatic irony, that just the reading of it--never mind the story--is an extraordinary delight. Its style fits the character and heritage of its narrator perfectly, making it even more effective.

This novel won England's Whitbread Book of the Year Award in 1986 and was also short listed for the Booker Prize.

Private Note: This novel made me think about what would have happened had we lost in WWII. Would we have been vilified by the rest of the world for the fire bombing of Dresden, for the internment of the American Japanese, for the atomic bombs? (Well, with the atomic bombs on our side, it's highly unlikely we would have lost, I guess.) Would the American people have then been expected to feel guilt, rather than pride? After the war, would we have adapted fairly quickly to a Japanese or a German way of thinking? Is the accepted history of a war always dependent on who won?