Never Let Me Go

At first, this seems like a boarding school story. The depiction of the weird conspiracy theories and imaginary games kids play, the friendships, schoolyard politics and relationships with teachers all rang true for me. The fact that it felt so normal and realistic meant that the strange and creepy aspects of the story kind of snuck up on you, and this made them particularly effective. I’ve seen people say that the less you know about this book going in, the better, and I agree - I read reviews beforehand and knew what it was about, and I definitely think the experience would have been better if I hadn’t known. So I won’t say any more.

I think I should like to sit quietly and think about this book for a few days before commenting on it. This book is a bit of a departure for me in that it isn't science fiction, it isn't a space-opera and it isn't a tawdry bodice ripper. This, folks is literature. Don't let the science fiction label fool you!

Major spoilers ahead!
The book has many layers. There's the setting, the narrative, the characters, and as I like to believe -the comment. If you focus on just one of the layers, you'll have a very different experience than if you take them all together. The book is not about a bunch of clones at a boarding school. Nor is it an examination of how we as a society feel about science and cloning. It isn't really commentary on show more bio-ethics, or the creepiness of "plug & play" organ donation. It isn't quite about love, and it isn't quite about stratification of society, and it isn't quite about living futile lives of quiet desperation and the odd, happy little days that shine like gems in the mud. It isn't quite about what it means to be human, although it does make the point that we're all human - whether we believe it or not. It might be about how we blithely ignore massive injustices in our world. It might be about how we can all ignore and skirt around huge, giant, screaming-big-deal problems in our own lives, and how cosy it can feel to concentrate on our back yard and ignore the larger world.

For me, the sucker-punch came right at end, the very last page, when I gasped out loud and said "That's it? Is that all there is? What was the point?" I was angry and confused and jaded, and a moment later, it hit me. Isn't the book an allegory of life? If we live a short futile life, won't we all feel confused and jaded and say just that at the end? "Is that all there is? What was the point?"

The real creepiness sets in when you ask yourself "just exactly what is a short, futile life anyway?" Am I sure my own life has depth and meaning? Or am I, like all of humanity living out my pre-defined biological program, and simply not aware, or willing to accept the futility of life?

The book was dark, moody, uncomfortable, and truth be told, a helluva downer. It was however an enjoyably dark and moody downer. show less

Part of the attraction of reading this book was not knowing much about its plot, so I will leave out some key aspects of it in my review.

The narrator Kathy reminisces about her life in an exclusive boarding school, whose children were sometimes referred to as special. Why they were special, and the common thread that bound them all is slowly revealed in this story.

The author uses the rambling conversation style of the narrator, filling in gaps between anecdotes and going sometimes on tangents to return to the main story line. The story pushes scientific borders and challenges our moral beliefs.
To me it demonstrated that we humans can justify morally reprehensible schemes if they fit with our overall designs of life and the world, and show more if we became convinced that it is for a good cause. It also stresses the importance of rearing and early education. The course of life and the ability to change, adapt or rebel depends hugely on the way one is brought up at an early age. The concept of freedom to pick and chose your life's course is something we learn through example and education, not something that we do by instinct. Our instincts are on the animal side, to settle into a role that is expected of us. Indoctrination at an early age is a surprisingly powerful device which produces compliant behaviour that is taken to the extreme in this novel. But if you look at our world, and the way people willingly participate in caste systems as if it were their destiny. If you watch the way women are reared in some societies to perform stunted and subordinate roles, it is not far off from here to imagine the course of the protagonists life.
Some people hate to disagree with the rules they grew up with, but what is worse is that some are not even aware that they have the privilege to reject these rules. It is alarming how people largely accept the collective rules, along with their personal consequence without too much questioning. show less

Is this science-fiction? Teen drama? Either way it's a book that attacks the topic from an extremely oblique angle and yet manages to explore the idea more thoroughly than many straight-up SF novels. I couldn't help but feel angry reading it - rationally I can understand the setup but all throughout the book from the first hint to the closing lines I couldn't escape a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the circumstances of the main characters.

Childhood, nostalgia, loss, and death.
This is a novel as much about what it means to be human, as much as it is about humans grappling with the limited time they have. Through Kathy's recollections, we journey through her childhood, her teenage years, and finally her experience as an adult worker in an operation that uses clones for organ-harvesting. Eventhough Kathy's ability to create and connect is in no way inferior to any 'normal' human but being a clone, her will to self-determination is restricted. She can't choose her 'purpose', her life is set out for her. This apparently doesn't worry her too much, she accepts it as it is. But wouldn't mind getting out. This creates a tangible tension throughout the text.

The idea of Hailsham show more is one the more interesting ideas in the book. Trying to provide 'human dignity' to clones means treating them the same as us. But if their paths are set out for them as donors and carers, it's all meaningless in the end. Or is it? Another question it raises in my head at least is how important is a happy childhood? If you're to transition to a depressing adulthood in any case, do you prioritize an ignorant but happy childhood or an informed but sad childhood. Hailsham chose the former. And we don't know if it worked.

This novel doesn't try to be sad, but the themes make the sadness palpable. You feel like crying throughout the novel without really knowing why. I think it had something to do with the feeling of time slipping between the fingers or that the entire story is told as a recollection, but it's strong and real. show less

While this novel was sad and strangely haunting, I was sometimes annoyed by the inexplicable self-absorption and introspection of the characters. It is gradually and subtly revealed that they are clones created solely for the purpose of donating organs, which they apparently do without questioning the system. The possibility of political revolt receives only slight consideration and is as quickly forgotten, and only near the end, when it seems too late for the protagonists. The whole logic of the premise is implausible, and the characters' largely unquestioning acceptance of the system is puzzling.

On the other hand, if one accepts the implausibilities, it's very evocative of the emotional states and social relationships of a very closed show more community. A love triangle dominates the plot, and I couldn't help wishing that this relationship had been set in more realistic circumstances. show less

The students at Hailsham are special. Kept isolated from the outside, nurtured, educated and encouraged to find ways to express their creativity and maintain excellent health, they are nevertheless kept in the dark about their purpose in life. Little by little, they piece together the clues to discover their intended purpose in life.

Ishiguro creates a dystopian society that seems idyllic at first; he introduces the reader to the horrible reality a little at a time, so that you are seduced by the “normalcy” of these students’ lives. But what happens once they leave Hailsham and go out to find their destinies, is what really sets this book apart. I’ll be thinking about this one for a long time.