This was originally posted on blogger. Never Let Me Go is a sad story.

There are some stories that grip you from start to finish. Page-turners or thrillers they might be called. And then there are stories that take you to another world, a place so magical that you can escape from the mundane-ness of real life.

Never Let Me Go did none of those things, yet it caught me in a trance. The setting of the story (this review will contain spoilers) is a place called Hailsham, a boarding school for children. Part 1 deals with the main characters – Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy – as they grow up in the school. In Part 2, the characters move to the Cottages where they meet students from other schools and are in anticipation of training for their future occupations. They must grapple with the brutal reality that they are clones, born only so that their organs may be harvested. They hope with all hopes that there may be a way out. And in Part 3, Kathy becomes a carer for Ruth and Tommy. They reflect on their experiences, soaking in their last moments together before they are “completed”, and Tommy and Kathy eventually try to fight against the dismal path that has been set for them.

This novel is not driven by plot. This is no Harry Potter, where knowing that Snape killed Dumbledore can ruin the book for a young reader (or Mice and Men, god forbid a spoiler for that). Never Let Me Go is written in a matter-of-fact yet carefully considered way. In the early chapters there is no sense that Kathy even lives in a dystopian world. We are immersed in her childlike innocence. There are some strange aspects, like why the kids have to trade in art for tokens, or where the parents of these children are… but more pressing are the day-to-day things. Why is everyone so mean to Tommy? Why is Ruth such a poser?

At first, I felt unfamiliar with this type of novel. In real-life, movies, and books, I’m usually perplexed why people get upset (as J.K. Rowling might say, I have the ‘emotional range of a teaspoon’). I reflect now that we really do live in the realm of symbols. What does it mean when someone ignores you in a conversation? When someone gangs up on you with your best friend? When someone keeps your unspoken secret? These actions really do matter, not just in the sense of their material result. So too does tone, and the way we can be kind and gentle, or harsh or abrasive, with others in our life. The moving parts of Never Let Me Go lie on this symbolic plane. The amount we care for the characters begins to define the novel, and what seemed plot-less becomes thick with drama and heartache.

The biggest injustice in the book – an injustice that overshadows all others – is the purpose of Hailsham students’ very existence. From the beginning, Ishiguro brings us so close to these students follies and fortunes. But it’s revealed to us, and to the students as they grow older, that these adventures mean nothing in the end. In this England, clones have no right to a free and happy life. In fact, the students are privileged to go to make, have friends and loved ones because most people like them have none of this (what conditions are other clones raised in? We can only imagine.) We find that no matter how lovely a childhood Kathy had – no matter how tightly she gripped the doll and said Never Let Me Go – this world was not made for her. No matter how deep and her strong her love goes, her life is ripped apart when she comes of age.

Is this so different from real life? Call me cynical, but I don’t think so. Though life can seem rosy for many, I know that for most of the privileges in society someone else has to be pushed aside. Perhaps it’s the custodial staff who come in late in the evenings to clean university libraries. Perhaps it’s the Nike sweatshop workers across the world who, day-to-day, risk their lives in dangerous conditions to make Western apparel. Perhaps it’s the farmed animals – numbering in the billions – who die each year so their bodies can be sold to our stomachs. Who makes these choices? Who decides who’s rich and who’s poor? Who decides whose life matters? These questions are lurking in the background of Never Let Me Go, never explicitly mentioned but impossible to ignore.

In real life and in Ishiguro’s England, the glaring injustice of society is never discussed. Hailsham is not really a school, but an example of a “humane” way to “rear” clones – to give them a good life before they “complete”. The childrens’ true fate is only hinted at throughout their upbringing, for knowing the truth would break the illusion of happiness*. The art that Kathy and her friends create in class as children is taken to show “who they really are” – that is, to prove to others that clones have deep personal lives. To Miss Emily, Madam, and others, Hailsham is a big step for the movement. To Kathy and Tommy and the reader, this perspective seems a little outrageous. Who else knows how real the clones’ lives except those who have lived them first-hand? The thought of having to prove ones’ individuality and life is an assault to that life itself.

I felt sad after reading Never Let Me Go. In some ways I feel that the world of Tommy and Ruth and Kathy is still around, whether in the exact form of Hailsham or in another way. That makes the ending quite real, even if it is a dystopia. But though this book was sad, reading it shielded me from the stressful cycle of news. It was an escape from relentless statistics into person-to-person empathy that seems missing in the way we understand the world. And that really was cathartic – like the tears of clouds which make the world a little greener. Sometimes a dose of sadness is really what we need.

* There are many illusions in this novel. The make-believe skits and plots between the children at Hailsham are examples, but there are far more sinister ones surrounding their lives. The children hold onto hopes that once someone leaves Hailsham, they can grow up to be anyone they want – they hold onto this because the truth would simply be too upsetting. And England at large holds onto the idea that raising children so that they can die for anothers’ benefit is at all morally right.