lip lit: never let me go

“I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart.”

I didn’t realise what I was getting myself in for when I bought Kazuo Ishiguro’s seventh novel Never Let Me Go. To be honest, I hadn’t really heard of Ishiguro. I picked it up solely because I recognised the title from an article I read about Carey Mulligan, who stars in the novel’s film adaption.

At the time, the title had grabbed me. The four words hold such fragility, honesty and desperation. Even now, after I have read it, the title tugs at my heart. And perhaps I respond to it — like countless others — because of the innate human desire to connect and be loved.

All I knew about the novel was this: three friends (Ruth, Kathy and Tommy) grow up together at a boarding school in the English countryside, and have to face the complexities of their friendships. I must have stopped reading the blurb before I reached this, ‘…while preparing themselves for the haunting reality that awaits them’. Even if it had registered, I don’t believe I would have suspected what the book would bring. I’m glad I didn’t know what this large component of the book concerned, because I doubt I would have picked it up. And that would have been a travesty.

Never Let Me Go is narrated by 31 year old Kathy, who has been working as a ‘carer’ for ‘donors’ for close to 12 years. She takes us back to when she is young and first befriends Ruth and Tommy, and shows us how they became the two most important people in her life.  Kathy speaks to us as if we are already in her world, she assumes we know it intimately. Her voice is one of the strongest I have read in contemporary literature; you instantly surrender to her world. By the end of the first chapter, you feel like you already know Kathy. You care for her, and you can sense her strengths and weaknesses. She’s a narrator you trust, one you feel like you know, and it’s easy to take her hand and follow her on the journey.

Kathy’s best friend Ruth, is one we all have — or had, or will have — in our lives. She’s beautiful, enigmatic and insecure. She’s the girl who will cut you down with three words, but she’s also the one you want the most in your corner. She’s the girl you love but resent. Our relationship as readers with Ruth is just as complex as Kathy’s; we want to hate her for her selfishness, but we also understand it, and this makes us want to protect her.

Tommy is the intriguing boy, who doesn’t quite have a handle on how to handle his emotions. He is an unlikely romantic male lead, even through Kathy’s eyes. He is withdrawn and has a temper, but at his core he has childlike wonderment and hope. He’s the boy we love, even though we know it’ll be easier not to.

The characters are who make Never Let Me Go so affecting — they are vivid, complex and raw. I could write an essay on how wonderful the entirety novel is; how Ishiguro is a master at stringing words along that seem so effortless but cut you to the bone, or how perfect and allegorical his settings are, or how consistently he ties up motifs. But I’ll leave you to enjoy them all for yourselves and instead tell you why I think the novel’s blurb failed to mentioned a vital part of the novel:

Because even though Ishiguro has taken such a complex and harrowing idea,  he has concentrated on his character as opposed to logistics. He has created a hauntingly beautiful character driven book. There are no elements of preaching or warning or judgement.  Instead, there is just a beautiful work about the desire to live, to love, and to be wanted. Admit it. Isn’t that what we all really want?