Kazuo Ishiguro's sixth novel is not merely a moving and absorbing tale of a character in 1990s England, but a chilling observation of the how the world might be. Considered to be a contemporary re-working of Frankenstein coupled with a hint of Brave New World, the tragic novel follows Kathy H., a thirty-one year old carer, who matter-of-factly reminisces about her childhood at the "educational facility," Hailsham.
As Kathy tells us her story in rather guarded and inhibited prose, we are plunged in to her rose-tinted recollection of children gossiping, laughing and enjoying a boarding-school type of life, but we are aware all the time that the author is concealing something from us.
Certainly there is a sense of unease that stems both from the dissonance of sinister language placed in otherwise everyday conversation and also from Kathy's unhappiness and desire to cling to the past: 'There have been times when I've tried to leave Hailsham behind, when I've told myself I shouldn't look back so much. But then there came a point when I just stopped resisting.'
However, mystery is such an integral part of the novel - like the children in the novel, we are "told and not told" about the secrets of their lives - so revealing too much of the plot would take some of the appeal away from other readers.
From the start, we are faced with numerous unanswered questions. Why do the students live permanently at Hailsham? Why does it matter that Tommy, Kathy's friend, isn't "creative"? Why do the Hailsham guardians deem it necessary for the students to have medical check-ups once a week? It is this curiosity that compels us to read on, even though we feel that we have partially guessed the truth early on.
Kathy's prosaic method of telling her story assumes that we already understand to what she is referring, so she never feels it necessary to spell it out. As a result, we learn things gradually through the dialogues between her and her friends or guardians and, more obviously, through her own exploration of her memories.
Though the novel is said to be set in "England, late 1990s," it is in fact another England identical to our own but for one vital, uncomfortable difference. The novel is not typical of science fiction, but fans of the film Blade Runner and other media within this genre will marvel at Ishiguro's ability to give such a convincing account of an imagined world.
Using few (if any) descriptive words, England is portrayed as harsh and cruel, and unlike Brave new World, this novel's menace and intrigue comes less from the differences wrought from the fictional creation and more from the discomfort that develops through familiarity with a "disturbing twist."
Never Let Me Go is a story that takes current global debates between science fiction and ethics and, in magnifying one aspect of them, invites us to confront our own confusion. Though never claiming for it to be scientifically conceivable - leaving many credibility questions open to the reader - Ishiguro delves into the issue of how far scientists will go to find cures for diseases.
In our world today - where arguments over the age at which life is deemed to be "foetal" and when it becomes truly human abound; where abortion still fuels massive ethical controversies; and where a recent Dutch law now permits the killing of newly born disabled babies - this novel is all the more important, for it demands us to consider our views about "playing God." As the novel suggests, scientists are investigating how to prolong our lives and make them more comfortable; but the ethics and morality of their research results are frequently overlooked or sublimated to what is deemed to be "the greater good."
But the novel can also be read as an exploration of human behaviour within hopeless circumstances. Initially, it seems as though Ishiguro's main concern is with the ethics of modern science, but gradually, we see the novel modulate into something deeper. Through Kathy's inability to understand the society that has created her Ishiguro illustrates his view that we - humans - live as we are expected to; we do what we can with what we have been given. Whilst Kathy is gradually coming to terms with her horrific existence - though she never truly seems to grasp quite how horrific it is - we begin to understand the truth of the central mystery to the novel.
As in all his published works, Never Let Me Go ends without a sense of resolution on a note of melancholic resignation, but don't be put off by this. It is alive with human complexity, exploring as it does the relationship between love and creativity and the soul, as it investigates what humanity truly means.
