Book Review: “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro

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We’re halfway through the semester, which means most of us have either finished
midterms or finished them up this week. Despite an influx of essays that knocked me down so
hard I had stars buzzing around my head for a solid two weeks, I still managed to finish three
novels this month. One novel  was so brilliant, I would add it to my favorite books tab on
Facebook if I had one, but since I don’t, I’ll just tell you about it instead, and maybe you’ll find a
new favorite too.

 
If you’re not into subtlety, Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go will not be for you. Part of
Never Let Me Go’s genius is the way in which Ishiguro crafted 288 pages that make reading
between the lines a worthwhile, non-headache inducing experience. As a reader, you never know
exactly what is going on, and even when you do, the puzzle pieces never quite fit. Much like the
novel’s own characters, you are told, but not told.

 
It is hard to tell you what the novel is about without giving it away. The premise behind
the story is never revealed until half way through. We are told on the first page by Kath, the
narrator, that she is a “carer” and is on her way to becoming a “donor.” From there, Kath spends
most of the novel looking back, telling us about her two closest, but equally tense, friendships
with Ruth and Tommy. The world Kath describes is riddled with familiarity, but strange
differences lurk in dark corners, and those differences become glaring-think like a surrealist
painting.

 
Kathy, Ruth and Tommy start off in Hailsham, which we are told is a boarding school,
but soon notice that it is a highly unconventional one. The teachers that run the school are called
“Guardians,” and they are affectionate and nurturing, even caring, yet they exude a clinical
coolness and distance. The students are ferociously encouraged to produce art and poetry-almost
as if their life depends on it-but no energy is spent elsewhere. They are constantly told they are
not like other children, they are “special students of Hailsham.”

 
Little things about the way the students conduct their lives muddle our conventions
further. So many conversations between the characters happen outside, in nature, and never
between walls. The students heads are always turned behind their shoulders, afraid of who might
come and hear them, catch them in an act of deliberating, exploring or discussing. Their lives are
thick with a tension and anguish they see but are not able to understand.

There is a haunting and disturbing layer to Never Let Me Go, yet it is not aware of itself
as such. The alternative reality Ishiguro imagines is treated as such a matter-of-fact thing the
questions a reader will have are simply dubbed as insignificant or meaningless. We are presented
with a vocabulary that never explains itself, and acts as if it is known and understood truth; A
truth whose implications are brutal.

The subtlety of the narration, the way Ishiguro gives us the story piece by piece, slowly
pacing us until our light bulbs flash in horrified comprehension, is beautiful. The writing is so
eloquent that Kath’s voice becomes audible, her poetic words wrapping around you until they’ve
swallowed you into their cruel, but delicately human world.

After I read those last dejected lines, feeling bewildered, I began to question the ethical
dilemma the novel presented. Except the novel goes deeper than simply ethics. At its heart,
Never Let Me Go is about that tiresome and uncomfortable, but ultimately eternal debate
between fate and free will, and it is all intricately explored beneath the guise of a love story.
So if you’re into reevaluating your humanity and picking away at the meaning of life,
definitely give Never Let Me Go-a novel shortlisted for the 2005 Man Booker Prize-a read, it is
absolutely worth your time.

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