London College of Music Handbook for Diploma Examinations in Classical Guitar Playing: Finge... Book

I have a problem with Kazuo Ishiguro. And my problem with Nocturnes is the same one I had with his last novel, Never Let Me Go: I can't figure out why I didn't like it more.
Despite his deceivingly simple prose I am very aware of his tremendous skill. I find many of his themes fascinating. I am sufficiently interested in his characters to keep on reading. I admire his resistance against easy resolutions or explicative characterizations. I marvel at his ability to create moments that are truly funny or touching or absurd without overplaying those moments. But his words don't bubble in my brain days after I've consumed them. The people in his stories seem like interesting strangers who pique my curiosity only for the length of time that they are in front of me. I don't doubt their authenticity as real people but I don't necessarily want to form long-term relationships with them. Something seems to keep me from fully connecting.
One of his favorite themes seems to be denial. The way we deny our own mortality, the realities of the life we lead, the disconnect between our own grand perception of ourselves and our lowly stations in the eyes of the world. Fascinating stuff, I think, and aptly realized in these stories yet at the conclusion of each I invariably think, "so what?" Perhaps the problem is that he raises questions but refuses to provide answers, or even the slightest inclination of a hint. Perhaps the problem is that denial and impotence are so omnipresent in the worlds he creates. When every single character seems to be living an unfulfilled life it's hard to sympathize with any one. Perhaps the only way I can appreciate Ishiguro is to take his ideas outside of the world of his stories, to leave behind the stories altogether, and consider them in another way that is meaningful to me. But to do that would contradict my belief in what stories, and fiction writers, should do.
Like I said, it's my problem.