Book #66: Never Let Me Go

Book #66: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

January 6, 2014


The cold snap continues, as I look forward to another day off from work tomorrow. I probably won't do quite so much reading, but who knows? I'm doing what I intended to do, reading instead of watching TV or playing on my phone. I guess I could use some of this extra time to tidy up my apartment, but anyway...

I find myself once again very impressed with Ishiguro. I read The Remains of the Day just a few months ago, and was riveted by the story of a seemingly ordinary (some would even say dull) butler who delves, ever so reluctantly, into his past as he examines his life. I was again drawn into the story of Kathy and her friends from Hailsham (such a British name!). Never Let Me Go takes place in a kind of parallel universe, where since the mid-20th century (at least in England), the cloning of human beings has been possible. This has been done for the purpose of organ harvesting, naturally. This isn't revealed right away in the story, but it's easy to pick up on as Kathy recalls memories of her childhood at Hailsham. I maybe had a little help, as my YA literature instructor brought up this book after I'd done my presentation on Unwind (which went quite well, as I recall). Kathy, like all of the students at Hailsham, who range from about four or five to sixteen, is a clone, who has no parents, no family, no real home. Hailsham is their home.

As Hailsham is first described, it seems like an ordinary boarding school. The differences unroll gradually with Kathy's recollections. Right away, I was drawn to the fact that an adult Kathy (I'd venture to guess that she's made it to her very late 20's) refers to herself as a 'carer.' That's the sort of to-the-point job description that you'd hear in your typical dystopian work. In fact, I found many similarities between Unwind and this book, especially the (if brief) descriptions of homes for 'students' that were unlike Hailsham, that were places full of abuse and neglect for the children. But what struck me was the fact that none of these students seemed to fight back. Many of them, unlike the children at Hailsham, were made very aware of their purpose in life early on. All of them, regardless of where they came from, eventually have freedom to roam about the country. This is a necessity in Kathy's work as a carer, as she must drive to many different clinics and recovery centers to see to the 'donors' under her care. A carer is partially a care-giver for the 'donor,' but also an advocate for them, and a source of support. Because again, these people don't have families. The children at Hailsham were raised to depend on one another, encouraged to form friendships and even romantic relationships (though sex was discussed almost frankly, it was not encouraged on the grounds at Hailsham...that typically came for the students later on, like at the 'Cottages,' where they had minimal supervision). They are each other's family.

Kathy forms the strongest bonds with Tommy and Ruth. Tommy was once a very awkward kid. You know the type: really quick to anger, doesn't get along well with his peers, and his outbursts only cause him to stand out more. Kathy kind of helps him to calm down; a talk with Miss Lucy, a guardian at Hailsham who cared very much for the students at had their best interests at heart, also helped with this. Ruth was a girl in Kathy's same year, the type with a strong, very pushy personality. You know that type as well. Ruth is the kind of girl I would have been friends with in school, even best friends, for a while...but I eventually would have been alienated by her behavior. Kathy is, in the end, but I'm amazed how, at even a younger age, she was understanding of Ruth's feelings most of the time. Kathy has the advantage of hindsight as she recalls some of her 'rows' with Ruth, but even at the time, she's quite perceptive. And the way that Ishiguro describes his characters...he's obviously very perceptive as well. He clearly knows people; these characters seem so real, which makes their approaching doom all the harder to stomach.

Yet they don't rebel. They accept their fate, whether it's been pounded into their heads all of their lives, or if they slowly realized it after living in youthful ignorance. The head guardian at Hailsham, Miss Emily, and her partner, known to the students when they were young as 'Madame,' had been working hard to provide their students with a childhood. That's why the school seems so normal...at first. Students were encouraged to produce works of art, poetry, and such; this was to help Miss Emily and Madame prove to others that clones have souls, that they're not just a product of science. When the truth of it all, how they were more privileged than most, is revealed to Kathy and Tommy years later, they are surprised by this. Kathy was grateful for it; Tommy almost wondered if Miss Lucy had been right, and if they should have been more aware of what was coming.

Kathy and Tommy are in love, but don't fully realize it until near the end of Tommy's life. Ruth had always been the one romantically attached to Tommy, but he and Kath had a connection for years, one that was very evident in Kathy's memories. They are quite the star-crossed lovers, and in the end, they find that they have no hope of extending the little time that they have left to be together. This was sad enough in itself, but what really made me lose it was when Kathy was speaking to Madame. Years before, Madame had seen Kathy dancing to a romantic song called "Never Let Me Go" (by Judy Bridgewater...I gave it a listen on YouTube earlier), and had started to weep. Kathy, in her own mind, had been cradling a baby and crooning to it; Madame had seen a young girl, with a terrible fate, begging her safe life, her childhood, to hold on to her. The fact that Miss Emily and Madame spent their lives doing what they could for these students, who otherwise would have had miserable childhoods along with dismal adult hoods, is what really hit me. It now makes sense to Kath, why the donors who didn't go to Hailsham or the few places that were inspired by it, would be so eager to hear as much about it as possible. It makes me think of Mr. McGarrity, the saloon owner in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, who listened to Johnny talk about his family and imagine that they were his own. The donors, as they died, wanted to think of Kath's life instead of their own.

Though Kath and her friends had what could be called pleasant childhoods, they did show signs of missing an ordinary life. They were so far from the outside world (even in her adulthood, Kath is kept in the country with her work; cities like London are never even mentioned, perhaps may not even be a place that such like them would be interested in going, or allowed to go to) that they didn't really know, on a surface level, what they were missing. But, well, take Kath with her baby. One particularly poignant memory involved Ruth and pencil case. She claimed that it was a gift from Miss Geraldine, a favorite guardian among the girls. The guardians act much as teachers would in a boarding school. They teach the classes, provide support and guidance, see to their safety, and not as often, administer discipline. The guardians are mostly kind to the students; there are some favored over others, just as teachers would be. The kind of 'favors' that are bestowed on students are the types that teachers would give to favorite students: leniency with some minor rules, mostly. But to receive a gift from a guardian was stepping out of bounds.

Through some detective work, Kath found that Ruth had lied about the pencil case. When she brings it up, in a roundabout way, to Ruth, Ruth is visibly upset. Kath didn't seem so much to miss the love of a parent, but that's something that Ruth, instinctively, sought. The guardians did what they could; I quite imagine that for children living in residential treatment, or in foster homes or programs, there are people who work there who do their best by the children, but can only do so much. God dammit...in our world, the situation is even more sad for the fact that children with parents who should love and care for them are neglected. But I still feel for the students, even if they don't know what they're missing. After all, they do have each other; even after falling out after leaving the Cottages, Kath, Tommy, and Ruth are drawn back together again near the end. They have a bond as close, closer, than any natural brothers or sisters would have.

I feel like my emotional reaction to this book says something about how compelling these characters are. I like Kath all the more for the fact that she is so close with Tommy and Ruth, two characters who I would have shied away from, would have avoided. Kath has been a carer for almost 12 years, and as she's recalling these things from her life, she now has a deadline for when her time as a carer ends and her time as a donor (and the end of her life) begins. She doesn't seem to regret it; she almost looks forward to it. The life of a carer is exhausting; since donors are moved from center to center frequently, they're left to travel most of the time. Not that Kath has a home of her own; Hailsham is as close as she ever came. Not long before the end of the book, Hailsham was closed, and Miss Emily regretfully said that other places like it would follow, and all of the 'students' would have to go to the poor quality government homes. Kath knew in the end that, on some level, she was fortunate. Her childhood at Hailsham allowed her to have friends, and to know what love is. The tragedy is not that Kath's life will end, but that conditions for the 'students' to come will worsen. It makes me think, again, of real children in such situations; they are not born to be sacrificed for their organs, but an attitude about such children exists that they are hopeless. At least in our world, there is the hope that children in the right circumstances will be okay, can have good lives. In Kath's world, such hope doesn't exist...not even for a Hailsham student.