Tucked away in the English countryside, the students of Halisham, a seemingly elite boarding school, live an almost idyllic life. As Kathy H. reminisces on the friendships and rivalries of her early life at Halisham, she also begins to touch on the strange and puzzling aspects of the school and her fellow students. For the students of Halisham are special in some undefined and unknowable way, and their futures are clouded and obscured from themselves and each other. Fed only the most basic information about their unusual lives and circumstances, they are reduced to living lives filled with rumor, conjecture and speculation amid the more typical everyday occurrences of childhood. As Kathy begins to unfold her curious tale that spans the unfathomable years of her adolescence, more and more curious facts about the children come to the surface, and eventually their bizarre fate is unmasked. Both lucid and frightening, Never Let Me Go takes its readers to the borders of an unimaginable world, where nothing is what it seems and peculiar things are hidden in plain view.

This is the kind of book that doesn't make its full impact until a few minutes after you have closed the cover. Written in lush but subdued prose, the narrative seems to unfold with a calmness and clarity that belies the book's true nature. From the outset, Ishiguro seems to be able to do something miraculous with this tale. He begins by describing some very commonplace events in the lives of a handful of students at Halisham, but peeking from beneath the more typical story he begins to interject random flashes of theme that seem almost disconnected and alien to the story itself. As more and more of the students' experiences are related it becomes clear that something "other" is going on, but with touches of brilliant technique, the readers of this story, like the characters themselves, are left on the precipice of understanding, splendidly misdirected into believing that things are just as they appear on the surface.

During the middle sections of the story, when both reader and character are just beginning to understand what is going on, a conversation occurs between the characters that documents just how much and in what ways the truths of their existence have been kept from them. In explaining it to each other, they come to conclude that they have been told, yet not told, about themselves, the facts being released to them at a time when it is almost impossible for them to understand them. Later, when these initial facts have set in, they become similar to ingrained truth and make the monstrous reality seem commonplace. It was at this point that I began to realize that this is exactly what was happening to the reader. It was the perfect specimen of art imitating life and it was one of the things that made the book so distinguished.

There were really two tales going on: the somewhat placid and serene tale of life as a Halisham student, full to the brim with the minutia of friendships, relationships and education, and the hidden and horrendous reality that was taking place underneath. Throughout the story it became clear by degrees what was really in store for these children, but I still found it both shocking and distressing when everything was finally brought to the surface in the last third of the book. Much of what was planned for them was spelled out in a direct way, but most of the horror of these discoveries was based on what was implied about what had been going on and its inevitable conclusion. The full story, once revealed, was extremely sad and I felt that Ishiguro was really able to capture the despondence and unfruitful hope that permeated these characters' lives. It was curious how detached they seemed to be, how resigned and accepting they were as they walked towards their destines. It was only later that I realized that they had no other basis for comparison and that the strange life they led was the only life they had ever known.

The characterization in this book was immaculate as well. Though the characters were meant to be somewhat indistinct, I found that they were all fully formed and that they were easy to identify with because they embodied the characteristics of people I have known throughout my life. That was one of the things that was so haunting about this book: I felt as though I knew these people in some way; one in particular reminded me of a friend I had long ago, so it was all the more disturbing to realize what was in store for them. To see their fate played out was frightening in a way that I tried not to examine too closely. I suppose the closeness I felt to the characters was in itself another of Ishiguro's deft manipulations, and that the book would have lost a lot of its impact if one were not so attuned to the characters' individuality and emotions.

I really loved this book for its intricacy and beautiful construction and think that its an excellent example of literary writing infused with just the right amount of psychological suspense. There is so much to explore within the constructs of this story, and in the end, the discussions that could be had about this book might be almost as complex as the book itself. I would definitely say that this is one of the better books I have read this year and that its subtlety and revelations were created with a master's touch. Reading this book was pleasurable, and in many ways, scary, but I am thankful that I have had the experience. A great read and highly recommended. I would love the chance to explore this book further and hear other's opinions, so if you have read it and would like to discuss it, please let me know! ( )

Incredible! I can't say I knew for sure where this was heading (no spoilers, don't worry), but even the inkling I had wasn't enough to ruin the ride for me. This is eery and captivating as often as it is charming; definitely one that makes you think.

I've loaned my copy out to all of my friends. It's definitely one that I recommend. ( )

One of the most disturbingly quiet or quietly disturbing book I've ever read. The atmosphere and tone of the book provides a truly solid foundation for its plot. Despite being slow in parts, It raises so many ethical, moral and psychological questions that it left me unsettled and uneasy. Cloning for the purpose of harvesting organs? The acceptance destiny without struggle? Humanity judged on the basis of biological origin? It is a book of quiet desperation. A truely excellent book. ( )

For any other writer, I might consider a four-star review, but considering that I've already read The Remains of the Day and When We Were Orphans, I failed to find this book as touching or moving.

Rather than altering a familiar universe through language, as Ishiguro did brilliantly in Remains and Orphans, he tends to rely more on sci-fi/fantasy tropes to pull him through. (Again, for another writer, I'd excuse it, but I know Ishiguro can do better). His narrator's relationship to her world is also somewhat unconvincing, as Ishiguro constructs her as both self-aware enough to tell an eloquent story and innocent to much that surrounds her. I also felt that the thrust of the story was a letdown-- the book is written in a way that makes you anticipate a grand finale, and I felt that finale never came.

I imagine that a high school student or a young adult looking for a "crossover" book might find it more valuable than I did. I also see from reading the reviews below me that everybody has a different take on where Ishiguro is at his "best." So this is one of those books you'll just have to read for yourself! ( )

(spoilers)
I've read better clone stories. I guessed they were clones in the first chapter. I didn't find the friendships or the romances very convincing, and the bidability of the clones struckan off note for me. Syrely some of them would try and make a break for it, especially after tracking down Madam and finding out that there were no extensions. And why was the great hope for extension, and not for freedom? That is what I found creepy - the lack of initiative. ( )

SPOILER ALERT.

I haven't finished this book yet but I want to talk about it anyway.

This is the first book by Ishiguro that I have read. I saw it and The Remains of the Day on the shelf. I wanted to pick a book by him that I had never heard anything about and that had no existing movie adaptations.

I first noticed the disqueting feeling of sensing a world similar to ours in many ways, but that has some very disturbing and strange differences from ours. These children are living in a boarding school like any other boarding school in England in the post-war era (with LP records and cassette tapes). But at the same time, there is some radical difference that is very difficult to put my finger on.

Then the author lets a few momentous details slip, particularly on pages 73, 127 and 152, where we learn that the children are organ donors with apparently no choice in the matter. And then to make it worse, I learn on page 161 that they are cloned.

There have of course been some disturbing stories recently about organ transplants without the consent of the donor, but this book is imagining a world where the whole existence of the donor is controlled from birth, and even before, i.e., by cloning. What a nightmare.

I am going to read the rest of the book and am afraid to see if Kathy and Ruth and Tommy are going to have some horendous Ian McEwan-esque horrors in the ending section.

I will add to this review, or add a second one, once I have finished the rest of the book.

Harrowing, heartbreaking and horrific, the more so for its low-key, almost emotionless delivery – although I am much of the opinion that it is merely 'The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas' in a shiny new hat (but Le Guin used fewer words to make the same point, and wasn't afraid to call it science fiction). ( )

http://www.pinkbullets.nl/2009/07/boo... ( )

I rate this somewhere between the perfect The Remains of the Day and the less satisfying When we were Orphans to which I granted a grudging 'well, okay'. This is speculative fiction at its subtlest and most insidious. In the midst of the relationships and history of the residents of 'Hailsham', a seemingly idyllic boarding school, it is almost possible to overlook the alternate reality to which these children are bespoke. The science-fiction fan in me would have liked a little more information, but there's no doubt that the strength of this book is it's speculation, rumour, and the suspense that they build. The perfectly presented reminiscences of the narrator as she looks back at her schoolgirl years and their consequences for her sense of identity are what bring the reader insight and a sense of creeping injustice. ( )

This book was so moving and yet so sincere, its hard to say that it didn't touch me from the word go.
Its not a tear-jerker, and neither is it a heart thumper, and yet as the book nears its end, I find it increasingly hard to say goodbye,
The stories of Hailsham, the friendship of Tommy, Ruth and Kath, all resound with a lot of meaning and yet one wonders throughout most of part one.
Hailsham is different, but how? How is it not like other "normal" schools? What makes the alumni of Hailsham so different?

Kazuo's revelation of all these questions is like peeling an onion, Layer by layer. Through anecdotes and stories, the reader is exposed to a harsh truth, a one that may yet come true.

It is a definite portrayal of Human behaviours and questions the very foundations of our knowledge about the existence of a soul. ( )

SPOILER ALERT (Please note the irony) -- Some have wondered why the clones don't rebel against their fate, or at least simply walk away from their destiny. My take on this: Ishiguro has written an extended parable concerning the fate 99.9% of all living persons share. Granted, we're not all engendered to donate organs to the wealthy, but we are all bred to serve a system that rewards those at the very tippy top of the economic pyramid. (How brilliant is the fact that not one of the benefciaries of the system ever appears in the novel, just as they never appear in the lives of us real people.) Some few of us, like the pupils at Hailsham, are brought up with the illusion that our education, talents, emotional experiences, etc. have some sort of value in the larger scheme. By the time we hang up our spurs, we know different. Most living souls (from the third world to the first) only struggle to achieve that flimsy illusion, if they haven't simply had the common sense to accept early on the fact that their lives are futile.

Watching a young girl dancing by herself in a dream of romantic love and fulfilment is a heartbreaking experience to anyone who knows what her future inevitably looks like. I find it heartening to hear about the large number of school children who simply decide to *bleep* the future and get whatever they can out of what's on offer right now.

The fact that most of us haven't made that choice and have decided to plod, plod, plod along like stupid dray horses, is the answer to the question why the characters in this novel don't pull some sort of "Logan's Run". ( )

There are a lot of really spoiler-y book reviews out there for Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. I was spoiled for this book and still thought it was incredibly powerful, but I think it would be even better to not know.

This is an incredibly powerful book. I found it to be very moving and sad, but in a very subtle way. This isn't a weepy book, where I need to carry a box of Kleenex around with me while I read. Instead, I felt like a blanket of sadness was being pulled onto me, as I gradually realized the magnitude of Kathy's story. When the book was done, I put it down and sat quietly for a while, just absorbing what I'd read, and in the days since, I've thought about it several times.

http://archthinking.blogspot.com/2009... ( )

didn't finish the book. just couldn't grasp the idea of children being raised for the sole purpose of donating thier organs. ( )

The title may seem odd at first, but as Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go unfurls its scrupulously guarded secrets, one comes to realise just how appropriate it is. Softly, subtly, the writing insinuates itself into the reader's mind, where it becomes something far greater than the sum of its quiet memories and musings. It is not until one sets Kathy's tale aside for a moment that one begins to appreciate the essence of this exquisite novel – and with this inevitable reflection comes the awareness that Never Let Me Go has indeed clung, with silent tenacity, to the innermost depths of the mind. Through every paragraph of every chapter, Ishiguro considers the input of his reader, and constructs his prose accordingly, exercising the utmost control. He considers how we will react, what we will feel, and how complete a picture of his world we will build from the information that he has given us. As though communicating on a subconscious level, he is able to plant knowledge, emotion and understanding without overtly communicating any of these things. Through subtle implication, repetition, withholding of information and a constant repression of the truth, this novel delivers a lingering and ultimately heartbreaking impact.

Though all the stages of life are dealt with in turn, it is the deconstruction of Ishiguro's characters, and therefore the deconstruction of the human mind itself, that forms the heart of this novel. The subject matter may lean towards science fiction, but the author's approach refuses to follow; the humanity of his protagonists is never called into question for a moment. They are simply too real for that. Such is the perceptiveness and complexity with which he brings them to life that all of us will find something of ourselves in them, and ultimately feel the atrocity of the wrong done to them with profound intensity.

Indeed, it is perhaps Ishiguro's refusal to examine the mechanics of his scenario – his persistent focus on its human, emotional aspects – that make the novel so universally engaging. It is a study of humanity that seems, itself, to be human; a portrait of repression that is, itself, repressed; a tale of careful avoidance that carefully avoids its own ideas. It is a novel realised through memories and feelings that is utterly memorable and heartfelt – and, as the title promises, its resonating after-effects will never quite let you go. ( )

Highly thought provoking. Our book group had a long and at times heated discussion about this one. Takes a while to warm up but once you're in you can't put it down. ( )

(#8 in the 2009 Book Challenge)

This is a book for work book club, and I didn't think I was going to especially like it and I ended up devouring it in one sitting almost. I'm usually not particularly fond of dystopian fiction because, I don't know, I feel like there's enough actual crappy stuff to think about as it is without inventing more. It was the finesse with which the story was delivered that held all the appeal for me. The narrator's description of her girlhood at a tony British boarding school was like a chum line ... little jarring bits among the classic school story format that eventually added up. And even after the grim details were all laid out (it's about organ donation), I liked that the thrust of the thing wasn't about how right or wrong these circumstances were (blessedly, Ishiguro let that be obvious), but rather how people might think and act if that was the situation they found themselves in.

Grade: A-
Recommended: Definitely to those who already like reading about dystopias, although I'm not sure this approach will work for everyone. There's a great focus on the mundane aspects of the character's experiences, which for me provides a contrast that makes the events seem even more chilling ... however, I can appreciate how it's teetering on a fine line, on the other side of which is bad imitative fallacy. Reading about teenagers acting tiresome can be ... tiresome. ( )

This was my first Ishiguro read and I enjoyed it fairly well. Given the horrific premise the story was quite calmly told. The writing had a oddness about it that was entirely fitting for the story and the way the story unfolded. I liked the writing style and character development at the time, but have since found his novels to all be the same in this regard. I see that many reviewers here found this book to be "brutal". I don't quite agree-- the story should have been brutal but Ishiguro leaves most of the interpretation and responsibility for feeling anything specific about the Halisham students to the reader-- I would have liked to see more of that come out in the book itself. I recommend this book, but I don't think it could have been much better given the very interesting premise. ( )

The reader is aware early on that something is not quite right with Kathy's story. As the dark truth of her engineered purpose in life slowly reveals itself, the reader and Kathy come to face some disturbing truths about. This story provides a human, personal look at genetic cloning that is both terrifying and fascinating.

It begins at a school. A private one from the sound of it, and yet odd somehow, as if these students were part of some strange educational experiment. These children have no possessions to speak of, or rather, they have possessions which appear to be recycled items, or ones made by other students. The story is told from the point of view of a former student, and as it unfolds, you recognize with her how odd it all was, that it gave other people's used junk, and children's art a huge importance in the lives of these students. You also begin to wonder how this could be. Where are their parents? Why, when they must spend holidays at home, are they forced to leave the inevitable gifts behind? Why must they even buy their clothes at school sales with fake money given them by the people who run the school, the "guardians?"

But there are no parents, no homes, no holidays. These children live in their school. They've been there since they were very small, and when they reach adulthood, they leave. When they leave, there's a future waiting for them. An early future is to become a Carer, or caregiver. But not to the sick, the elderly or infirm, but to Donors. And while we don't know what these donors are exactly, we do know that this is the other waiting future for these students.

It's not hard to figure out what Donors do. They donate parts of themselves to people who need transplants. Though it's never actually spelled out, things which are donated are probably kidneys, lungs, parts of the liver, eyes, skin, bone marrow... whatever's needed. These are children who have been cloned as body part farms. And horrible as that concept is, what seems even worse is that their life at their school has actually given them a taste of something outside the narrow framework of what they have been designed to do. They're not just unconscious bodies in vats, they're living, breathing people who get angry and feel sorrow, who fall in love and who create. They're people, and yet they go to their fates with the conviction that this is what they must do. They listen eagerly to rumors and stories of how there are "deferrments" given, but none of them ever seems to consider that there is any choice but to comply with the order to show up at the hospital and give up parts of their own bodies to total strangers. Carers are the caregivers to Donors after a donation, and Donors do not die, they "complete." They aren't even given the dignity of death. Indeed, there are other, less hopeful rumors that after a certain number of donations, including ones which will inevitably kill a living person, what's left is kept operational until all the parts are used up by what would be equivalent to knackers but for human leftovers.

It's a brutal book written so beautifully that you simply can't grasp the horror of their lives, their compliance, and the kind of people who would ask such a thing. As one character -- a former guardian -- says to two of the students who have sought her out to try to discover the truth of the deferrments: People would hate the idea on the face of it, but at the same time their primary concern is that their children survive, their parents, their husbands and wives. Who wouldn't choose a loved one over what you've been taught to think of as a spare part farm, a thing devoid of a soul, of feelings, even of real consciousness? But this isn't about the lies, it's about the people who get chewed up by them, and their short, restricted lives which nevertheless manage to offer scope for beauty and affection and creation. This is the real heart the tragedy.

This is one I wouldn't recommend to the faint of heart. It's by Kazuo Ishiguro, who wrote "The Remains of the Day" another perfectly brutal book. He seems a master of the deep, quiet sadness. I'm not sure how much more of his work I can bear. ( )

Although the story was short, it really drew me in to the characters. Written in the first person by Kathy, it explores the question of what makes us human and the theory of a soul.
For the most part, it is anecdotes of the characters' past at Hailsham, a boarding school of sorts intended to raise "students", those who are raised for a purpose. This purpose is alluded to at the beginning of the story as the character flips between the rekindling of her high school friendship with Ruth and her memories of the past.
Gradually the truth of who they really are is revealed to the reader, much in the same way it was revealed to the students as they were growing up, until the point where the full truth is revealed to the narrator and her late found love, Tommy.
Overall, I enjoyed the story, though some of the characters could have been a little more developed, especially the main character Kathy. It was also a little distracting, the constant hints at the present time during the flashbacks. I would recommend this as a quick and enjoyable read. ( )

Un libro bastante conmovedor lleno de sueños, ilusiones e inocencia. ( )

Kathy and Ruth and Tommy are Hailsham graduates. Hailsham grads all share a common destiny. They are special. They are dedicated. And they give all for their country. But one day Ruth begs Kathy to stop the process for Tommy. Will Kathy find a way?

I did not enjoy this book. i wanted to. I expected to, having heard good things about it. I patiently kept on reading, waiting for it to get good. But it didn't. In fact, it was so boring. I guess it just wasn't the kind of speculative fiction I am used to. It's so understated. So reserved. Stoic. British. I think that's it. Like the stories you hear about the British citizens on the Titanic who dutifully queued up while the Americans pushed and shoved their way to the lifeboats. These characters were too sedate. I wanted pushing and shoving. I wanted passion and action and vitality. When Kathy and Tommy were in the car I just wanted to scream 'take the car and run, you stupid sheep!' Oh well. ( )

I’ve described Never Let Me Go as speculative fiction for readers who aren’t into “that kind of thing.” It reads like straight-up literary fiction. You only encounter the dystopian elements as they relate to the characters and their relationships with each other. On the first page, we learn that the main character, Kathy, has been a carer for 11 years, a long career for a carer. It’s not until well over halfway into the book that we learn exactly what a carer does.

The book, written entirely from Kathy’s perspective, is her reflection on her life and especially on her relationships with two of her schoolmates, Ruth and Tommy. Like many young girls with long-standing friendships, she and Ruth alternate between being friends and rivals. Because Ruth knows Kathy’s deepest secrets, she’s can to hurt her than anyone else can, and Kathy is more aware of Ruth’s faults than anyone else is.

Because Kathy is the one telling the story, Ruth comes across as more of the villain, and she does in fact do and say some dreadful things. But, although Kathy is fair-handed enough to share some of the mean things she herself did and said, she never seems truly apologetic, and for that reason, I could never quite trust her. I don’t know if Ishiguro intended for us to feel this skepticism about Kathy’s account, but I certainly did.

SPOILERS AHEAD

By setting the novel in the present, instead of a distant future (which might make the story more believable), Ishiguro gives us characters who share the same cultural background that we have. For example, Kathy remembers listening to tapes and the advent of Walkmen. Because of this, the characters are much more relatable than they would have been had they grown up listening to “music cells” on their “audio implants.” It makes the character-driven aspects of the novel much more successful than is typical of dystopian fiction, but the dystopia itself is a little less scary. Then again, relationships between teenage girls are scary enough without adding in organ harvesting, so perhaps it’s all to the good. And really, are Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy any different from the rest of us? We all have to grapple with what our lives mean, and whether our paths are laid out for us and how much choice we have. And death hangs over us all; Kathy and her friends just have a clearer idea of how and when it will come, which makes the existential questions more urgent, but not any more significant.

See my complete review at my blog. ( )

Never Let Me Go tells a story that I found compelling and intellectually intriguing, but difficult to engage with emotionally. The premise is fascinating, but I can't really say too much about it without spoiling the primary concept of the novel.

Kazuo Ishiguro has set Never Let Me Go in a place and time much like our own modern world, but in some areas is much more scientifically and medically advanced, thanks to the donors and their carers. His narrator, Kathy, is a carer - it's not exactly a medical profession, but it does involve being part of the recovery process as donors recuperate from one procedure and prepare for their next. Most donors will be called upon three or four times before they "complete."

When we meet Kathy, she is preparing to give up her work as a carer, and this has prompted her to reflect on her years growing up among the other "special" students at the secluded Hailsham school. Ruth and Tommy were among her closest friends there, and her work re-connected all of them as young adults.

READ MORE: http://www.3rsblog.com/2009/03/thursd... ( )

Never Let Me Go was both fascinating and frustrating.

The premise is quite intriguing: students raised at Hailsham are repeatedly told of how special they are and how they must take care of their bodies. The narrator, Kathy, in the present is a "carer." Most of the other students are "donors," who eventually "complete." The reasons why emerge slowly, until the full picture or their origins and their fate come clear.

First of all, it grated on me that the story followed the exact same format as The Remains of the Day, even though the voice was very different. It begins in the present, hints at the outcome of events, and then most of the book is spent meandering over meaningful memories until the climax. I never felt like I got to really know the first person narrator; most of the story really focuses on her friends Ruth (who isn't very likable) and Tommy. They are fully realized and complex characters. Maybe Ishiguro wasn't in his element in trying to mix in scifi. Many things are heavily hinted at in the book, but then the climax is heavy-handed but doesn't really explain everything. (Why not try and run? Rebel?) There wasn't really a conflict in the book. Everyone did what they were supposed to do. In Remains of the Day that sort of gentle storytelling worked because the butler did sacrifice everything for his master - he was his job. But here... maybe these characters were chosen for their domestication. I don't know. The ending left me disappointed. I felt like shaking these people. ( )