Never Let Me Go

Reading this book is like taking your heart out of your chest, caressing it lovingly for a few hours, and then unceremoniously smashing it to pieces. On the surface, it's such a quiet, delicate thing; Kathy repeatedly brushes against the big questions of her strange existence, yet rarely directly engages them. When she, or the other characters, dare to speak plainly about Hailsham, we feel as unsettled and bewildered as she does. Time and again, she diverts our attention away from pressing existential matters toward smaller moments of emotional intimacy. It's only after you've finished the novel that you realize those moments pack a more forceful punch than any discussion of clones and organ donations.

This book most reminded me of Brave New World in the way it depicts an alternate timeline to which we can both relate and feel completely separate. We identify with Kathy's struggle to be a good friend to both Tommy and Ruth, yet we struggle to understand the characters' resigned acceptance of their fate. To us, Kathy appears detached or even uninterested in matters of extreme importance (what exactly being a donor means, the truth about Hailsham), but to her, it's just the way her life works. The difficult parts of her life have to do with her friends and sex and love relationships, just like everyone else.

I found Ishiguro's presentation of sex refreshing. When Kathy talks about the moments when she wants sex so badly she'd do it with anyone, we feel uncomfortable because we don't talk like that. Ruth teaches Kathy to feel ashamed of her urges, but in the end reveals she feels similarly. I wish this book was taught in high school, so teenagers would understand that everyone feels weird and wild about sex. It's just a part of growing up. That's what this book is really about, growing up, becoming a person, learning to love. The "possibles" and carers are just the setting for one of the most moving stories I've read in a long time. Ultimately, Ishiguro leaves you feeling like Kathy in that field, tears running down your face, wishing the people you care most about (in this case, our beloved narrator) would never let you go.