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In 1990’s England, Kazuo Ishiguro imagines a dystopian alternate reality—a boarding school beset with human clones. This school, Hailsham, is the setting of Ishiguro’s 2005 novel, Never Let Me Go. The novel is constructed as a sort of memoir, narrated by Kathy, an adult female “carer” (the meaning of this profession is not revealed until much later in the narrative), reflecting back on her years at Hailsham. At the center of the narrative is a trio of Hailsham students: Kathy, a boy named Tommy, who is mercilessly teased in school because he is prone to violent emotional outbursts, and Ruth, who is a headstrong smart aleck, and Kathy’s closest friend. The three form a strangle love triangle, as Kathy and Tommy share an intimate bond developed throughout their youth, one that is obvious even to Ruth, who begins dating Tommy in their teen years. The three students navigate life together in the strange petri dish of their boarding school upbringing.
It is immediately clear that Hailsham is not a traditional boarding school, but rather a socially confined environment aimed at sequestering its unique students from the outside world. Kathy recalls the slow process of coming to understand the purpose of Hailsham and the function of its students, the idea that they were being groomed for something special was always implicit in their education. The school places a premium on student creativity, as their projects are collected to be traded within the student body, and the best of which are whisked away by a mysterious Madame, whom the students imagine needs the artwork for some sort of gallery. The students’ only personal possessions come from this trading of crafts, in addition to a couple of sales involving used or discarded items that are brought to the school by the truckload. Later, the students learn in sex ed that none of them will face the risk of pregnancy because they are not able to conceive children. The teachers at the school, called “guardians”, are careful to reveal only parts of the whole picture to the children, keeping them mostly in the dark about their true purpose.
Kathy and her companions don’t fully realize their purpose until the final years of their schooling, when they are partially aided by a rebelling guardian who is consumed by guilt. In her final outburst that results in her expulsion, this guardian exclaims, “Your lives are set out for you. You’ll become adults, then… you’ll start to donate your vital organs. That’s what each of you was created to do.” Kathy is not surprised by this revelation, she and Tommy had been beginning to put the pieces together that their bodies were organ farms prior to this moment, but she describes the full realization of this reality as a sad final note marking the end of her youth. After the students leaves Hailsham, there is a brief period in limbo before the students become carers, or caretakers for the organ donors, before becoming donors until their inevitable expiration as useful objects. During this limbo, Kathy and her companions become obsessed with the idea of “possibles”, or possible human beings that donated the genetic matter that allowed them to be cloned. These possibles become vessels for the students to place their hopes for the future in, and their only avenue to real human existence. This core believe in one’s inherent humanity lies at the center of this novel emotional weight.
Also central to Ishiguro’s world-building is the concept that art is a signifier of life. For the students at Hailsham, the art they produce serves as a literal signifier of their humanity—exhibitions of their work are used to convince the public that the students are not just clones, but are capable of inspiration and creation. This is the rare science fiction novel that feels more like an exercise in understanding the human spirit rather than any technical or scientific conceits. The novel is so loaded with pathos that its objective universe begins to fall away as Ishiguro plunges deeper and deeper into these concepts of hope, love, creativity, and companionship.
Never Let Me Go is at its core an exploration of human relationships—how humans relate to each other, how humans love each other, and how they seek out hope in both the collective and individual senses. The emotional heaviness of the novel is conferred bit by bit, as the narrative gradually reveals itself to its final series of tragedies. Never Let Me Go is a slow burn, but Ishiguro’s patience pays off in spades in the novel’s understated but deeply affecting confusion. This novel will implant itself in the minds of its readers, for better or worse.
Further Reading: This excellent Electric Lit article about the racial politics at play in Never Let Me Go.