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.)