(Image from the film adaptation, provided by IMDb)

Spoilers ahead! I discuss the ending and other important story elements of Never Let Me Go in this review.

What initially captivated me about Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go was an endorsement on the back of my copy from none other than the legendary Margaret Atwood. Being familiar with Atwood’s brilliantly harrowing and twisted writing style, I was intrigued by the prospect of reading a book highly praised not only by many critics online but also an author who I consider to have mastered the craft of painting the darkest possible picture of contemporary society through her fantastic dystopian novel, The Handmaid’s Tale.

Never Let Me Go intricately delves into a pessimistic societal dystopia, which immediately made me compare it to The Handmaid’s Tale. Compared to Offred’s active rebellion against corruption and violence however, Kathy’s passivity underscores a pervasive sense of hopelessness as she resigns herself to a predetermined fate as a mere observer. This proves to be simultaneously the strongest and weakest aspect of the novel in my opinion.

The people in the novel believe, irrationally, like we all believe, that love can do all kinds of things that make you exempt from your fate.

Kazuo Ishiguro in The Guardian

Kathy and Tommy bet entirely on their ability to get a “deferral” later in the novel, genuinely believing that they can evade their predetermined fate. Occasional references to these “deferrals” are sprinkled throughout the novel, fostering a sense of hope; however, in the sad and disappointing climax of this subplot, they learn that their one chance of evading their planned death was futile all along. Although the Guardians occasionally display empathy, exemplified in Miss Emily’s earnest efforts to establish the “Gallery” as proof of the students’ humanity, the novel ultimately reveals the stark reality that no sweeping societal change occurs to improve the lives of the clones. This truth becomes evident through the closing of Hailsham and the revelation that “deferrals” never existed (I’ll talk a little more about just how important this scene is later). Ultimately, the kindness extended to them is revealed to have been a cruel mirage and Miss Emily’s attempts at proving that Hailsham students “have souls” instead sparked a false hope which lingered for years among the clones.

The specific choice of word “deferral” is an incredibly important choice: the only thing Kathy and Tommy try to do to change their destinies is to “defer” the harvesting of their organs, rather than attempt to gain freedom and live. While I initially went into Never Let Me Go comparing it to The Handmaid’s Tale, it ended up sharing more similarities with Nineteen Eighty-Four, where the ‘everyman’ protagonist Winston ultimately never disrupts the stranglehold which the Ingsoc party has over Oceania, nor does he impact society in any other meaningful way. Like Winston, Kathy and Tommy are ultimately insignificant to the rest of the world they inhabit.

What could have been improved?

Although Never Let Me Go mostly captures a deflating sense of bleakness with exceptional artistic skill, I tend to agree with critics who argue that the novel excessively dwells on the inconsequential and mundane aspects of the students’ lives at Hailsham. Yes, it could be argued that Ishiguro’s deliberate avoidance of addressing the ‘elephant in the room’ serves as an artistic choice, intensifying the hopeless pessimism of characters resigned to their fates – but that doesn’t invalidate the criticism that it leads to an upsettingly “boring” ending.

Despite the concise form of Never Let Me Go, this stylistic choice occasionally diminishes the overall impact of the story. The novel is predominantly driven by internal monologue, and its highly conversational writing style contributes to scenes that feel more like casual retellings of mundane boarding school experiences which just so happen to carry a subtle undercurrent of unease, where I believe instead that the unease and liminality of the novel deserved to be highlighted more than they were. Ishiguro has underemphasized the most interesting aspect of the novel’s world by constraining it with an over-reliance on realism rather than exploring in more detail the history of how the current system of Donors and Carers came to be, the current political landscape of the world around our characters, and so forth. I wanted to witness more ideological conflict between the Guardians too, as I found Miss Lucy’s talks with Tommy where she reveals her beliefs about Hailsham’s operation to be the most interesting part of Kathy’s Hailsham memories. Conflict like this, and the explanation of its context, is something I personally think The Handmaid’s Tale does much better than Never Let Me Go: if each novel’s world were to have canonical Wikipedia pages explaining their terminologies and power structures, the latter’s would be thoroughly lacking with how much Ishiguro hides from us.

The scene in which Kathy and Tommy learn of the closing of Hailsham from Miss Emily almost provides the wider view of the world of Never Let Me Go that I wanted to see: it’s explained to us that the public did not want to acknowledge the existence of clones or their humanity, and so they would rather not treat them as equals by providing education. And what do our protagonists do with this information – the deconstruction of every thought and value they have ever held? Nothing. They resign themselves to their fates, allowing themselves to be harvested, and never once attempting to change this outcome. The crushing disappointment is absolutely powerful, yes, but the fact that the characters shy away from so much as mentioning their thoughts on the situation does leave a lot to be desired.

In his interview with The Guardian, Ishiguro describes his novel – very surprisingly – as “cheerful”. Despite the characters’ insignificance, the story focuses on love and friendship. Kathy and Tommy, even with time running out, prioritize being there for each other over trying to change the world. In short, the dystopia is never disrupted, but at least our characters are able to experience love.

Closing thoughts

In the end, I still wholly recommend reading Never Let Me Go. It’s a short book overall, but an emotionally powerful one, and despite my frustration at the defeatist protagonists, I would be lying if I said that the novel didn’t have a profound and lingering impact on me. Personal relationships are the bread and butter of this novel, so if you were expecting a typical dystopian in which a hero attempts to save society however, you will be sorely disappointed.