Never Let Me Go (2005)

The same quiet, precise writing and atmosphere I loved in Remains of the Day, but not the same depth of story and character. ( )

Good but not great. It's technically dystopian lit I suppose, but for most of it, it doesn't really feel like it, just a boarding school drama. And then everything that is actually going on and not understood by the main characters comes out in a rush in the last few chapters. And then it's done - no hope for change, no moment of faith in the future and trust that the struggle of living is valuable.

I suppose it serves as a warning, and a valuable one I suppose, that we don't allow 'progress' to trump our ethics and morality. In that, it does well, but as I said, not until the last few chapters. I couldn't wait to be done this one. ( )

An odd story set in a slightly alternative universe, where the English are still very English but they also have farms where they raise children whose organs they can harvest when need be- and the organs are always needed, and the children all die painfully. The narrator, who is one of the donor children, overthinks everything, so that gets annoying at time, but overall it's beautifully written and laid out. But very depressing and creepy. ( )

Three kids in a boarding school for "special" students. Very special. Three adults talking about their experiences at said school and piecing together what it all meant. It might have worked if most of the answers weren't revealed (or easily guessed) along the way. Or if the answers hadn't been so bland and dissatisfying.

No, I take that back. Even if the reveal/climax of this book were Madame telling the three protagonists, "Guess what, kids, you are clones!", this book would not have worked for me. In fact, that cliche might have made it worse. Their knowing what they were had the potential of drawing more tension throughout the book, if the writing had been better. The attempt at conversational prose here looks like this: "I hated ice cream ..." [one paragraph later] "... as I say, I hated ice cream" and "I didn't know then, but I would find out that time when we talked on the beach" [scene break] "This is what happened when we talked on the beach." My reading stream of consciousness: Yes, Kathy/Ishiguro, you said that, fifty words ago you said it, please don't repeat yourself on every page ... you're not going to repeat yourself on every page, are you? ... okay, you are going to repeat yourself on every page ... The intrusiveness of the craft prevented me from ever immersing in the story.

But if I had, I'd be no less annoyed, because Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth are some of the most annoying fictional people I have met. Their relational dynamic as children is somewhat interesting (Ruth's passive aggressive behavior especially, if like me you enjoy digging into character psychology), but as adults, they are maddening and unsympathetic. I get what Ishiguro was saying about the power of conditioning and even of self-delusion. I get that this is a somewhat dystopian piece of literature (though the storyworld is left undeveloped), and in this genre the little man doesn't always beat the system. However, we mourn the little man who loses because he tries with everything in him and still fails. He refuses to be resigned, and we hope we would be so brave if ever we had to be. Characters who meander down the life path chosen for them without ever trying to change things or escape or do better for someone else at risk to themselves? Sure, there are "sheep" like this (all totalitarian regimes depend on it), but they are not to be called heroes.

And to anyone who says "that's the point of the book; there are no heroes, only sheep" ... okay, yes, obviously you are correct. But that's not the kind of book that will burn bright in this reader's heart or create any emotion or attachment. Therefore, from me, this book earns two stars. ( )

What is notable about this book is its conversational, musing quality. As Kathy is telling the story of her childhood at Hailsham and her friendships with Ruth and Tommy, she is constantly veering forward and back in time, correcting herself and making asides to the future or explaining the importance of a particular conversation. It is also this quality that can make 'Never Let Me Go' exasperating and hard to get into.

Then there is the difference between Kathy's England and the one we know. It is an idea that has been explored in several other novels and films and shows, but with the possible exception of Holmqvist's 'The Unit' that reality has never seemed so possible. I don't want to go further into it, even if other reviews haven't flinched from it, because even though the "dark secret" isn't very secret for long, knowing too much before going into the story would take away from the unnerving pastoral setting that Ishiguro is so careful to set up. Mostly though, its secondary to the thrust of the book, which is its understated sadness, and subtle exploration of relationships and sometimes poisonous friendships.

Because, yes, I can see how this book falls into both Science Fiction and Dystopian literature, but the depth it goes into interpersonal relationships and with a narrative that never seems to disbelieve itself, 'Never Let Me Go' transcends the boundaries of "genre" fiction. This is to and against its benefit as someone's preconceived notions of what to expect may lead them to get frustrated when running into the wall of Kathy's memories. ( )