Clifton Azzopardi reviews Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere
Gabriel Schembri on the ‘Is-Saltna tal-Fiddien’ trilogy, its forthcoming cinematic adaptation, and an interview with one of the authors Continue reading
There comes a day every one or two months where I can barely read, exercise or pursue my interests due to an arresting migraine. Accordingly, on such dreaded days, I must keep myself in bed, in the dark, being overwhelmed by suppressed thoughts that often plunge me into a harrowing mood. A few days ago, I was experiencing one such terrible day but instead of sleeping my way through it, I defied my migraine and prescribed myself Room, the novel by Emma Donoghue, since I felt I had to be physically restricted and hindered from any form of escapism to read her novel.
In his 1997 novel, Kazuo Ishiguro dislodges the reader from the familiar and the accepted. The Unconsoled presents what can only be described as a mirror maze trapped in a vacuum of its own making. Throbbing with dark tones of hollow despair, it is not a light novel, nor should it be read lightly.