Dragons, ogres, pixies? It’s not what is expected of Kazuo Ishiguro, but they feature in The Buried Giant, his first novel for 10 years. Behind the turn to fantasy, however, lies his familar fascination with the past and individual moral choices. He talks to Alex Clark about film, memory – and his taste for tea and cake: The Guardian
Novelists might appear to be in charge of their invented worlds, but they often have to wait a surprisingly long time to do what they want; fiction isn’t quite as malleable as it may seem. Kazuo Ishiguro – for all that tight authorial control he is associated with – is no different. For a long time, he tells me, as we sit in his Cotswolds cottage on a bright, wintry afternoon, he’s wanted one of his novels to feature a man and his horse. Now, with the publication of his seventh, The Buried Giant, he has finally had his way. “That lone rider figure has always done it for me,” he laughs.