Never let me go

On some level this is a deeply haunting book, confronting us with the people society leaves behind in a sympathetic first-person perspective. But the devices Ishiguro uses to achieve that effect also put me off the book itself. Without wanting to get too spoliery, the smallness of the narrator's world is kind of the point, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a slow paced book in a very small world, which I kept getting frustrated with.

This is probably closer to 3.5 stars, as I'm still not really sure how I felt about this book. It will definitely lead to a good discussion, I don't doubt that. It was just so...weird. Ishiguro presents a very morally ambiguous story (human clones created specifically for the use of their organs), without casting judgement. I think that to me is the most unsettling aspect of this book. The idea of these characters being clones is not even really explicitly stated until 3/4 of the way through the book. The kids talk about it, but it's very casually mentioned and basically dismissed (or at least it seemed to be at the time) after a time. And where and from whom did these clones spring? There's no...beginning, and no real end. So disturbing.

A beautifully woven story. The writing style feels as natural as a conversation, and I really started reading it as soon as I got it in the mail and didn't ever want to put it down.

Ishiguro captures perfectly the confusing and sometimes cruel world of childhood and adolescence, when everything that happens seems to hint at larger mysteries. (And yes, it so happens that those mysteries really exist, but I was surprised how much this evoked memories of my own youth -- I remembered having theories about conspiracies, even going so far as to keep a sort of dossier at some point. And the tumultuous relationships -- the fighting-and-making-up, the things-left-unsaid, the symbolic actions -- all the unintentional cruelty borne of not really understanding our own emotions, let alone anyone else's -- it just captured those feelings so well. All the pressures and half-understood anxieties about growing up. Somehow, in that sense it reminded me of books like [b:Julie of the Wolves|386286|Julie of the Wolves (Julie of the Wolves, #1)|Jean Craighead George|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1174355792s/386286.jpg|778444] or [b:Bridge to Terabithia|2839|Bridge to Terabithia|Katherine Paterson|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327880087s/2839.jpg|2237401].)

It's rare to come across something that captures so perfectly the feeling of that time of life, when you understand only a small amount about the world, when everything seems to take on vast meaning. And though it's very common in real life, it's rare to find characters in novels doing things for reasons they themselves barely understand.

Friends described it as heartbreaking, but -- maybe because of the memories it brought up for me -- I just thought it was beautifully nostalgic. Sad, yes, but the ending somehow feels right, like it's following through on exactly what it promised. The style reminds me a little of [a:Haruki Murakami|3354|Haruki Murakami|http://photo.goodreads.com/authors/1285812707p2/3354.jpg]; maybe something in the straightforward, unpretentious tone, or the detailed descriptions of rather ordinary events that all add up to a world just slightly stranger than the one we live in.

I should say that I read enough scifi that I didn't find the premise especially shocking or unexpected. I do love stories that use science fiction concepts as an excuse for philosophizing about what makes us human. (This one bears some thematic similarity to Blade Runner, now that I think about it.)

This is probably one of the most disturbing books I have ever read. It is not immediately obvious why this should be so.

This is a bildungsroman with practically no conflict. The result is magnificent, but chilling.

It's hard to convey what sort of novel this is without saying too much--an important part of the reading experience is the unfolding of what is, for a whole sub-population, a mystery.

Told in the first person by Kathy, one of a group of children (focusing on Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy) brought up in a rather idyllic boarding school, sheltered from the outside world. And right away, many questions nag the reader: where are the parents? Why the unusual education? For instance, artwork is stressed, while math, science, and athletics are ignored...

The children themselves are given just a little information, doled out very gradually--they are "told, but not told" what their fate in life will be.

Gradually, a couple of these "students" find out the answers to the riddles, as not many do. It is serious and sad, and told in Kathy's rather detached tone, which challenges the reader to make his/her own assessment, without manipulation.

At the end, the one question that kept badgering me was, why don't any of these characters try to escape? And I'm still working on that one...

Never Let Me Go is one of the more unusual novels I've read lately, and very thought-provoking in a way that reminds me of Margaret Atwood's novels.

I trust that's not saying too much!