About the book I have not read…

and perhaps never will read – Never Let Me Go. If you read any of my reviews of Kazuo Ishiguro books, you know that I am going through a period of total fascination by his books and I think even more than his books only. I have listened to some interviews with the writer on YouTube including the Nobel Prize lecture and have read some of his earlier interviews. It all created an impression in me that I can not help but admire the man. And most of all I find the books, I have read so far, showing me part of myself I did not know before or was not clear about. This is what I like in books, more than a story, more than the language, more than a book structure.

I intend to read all of Ishiguro books except for this particular one, however, I may change my mind at some stage. The reason why I do not want to read the book is that of its sadness. I am not sure how much it would depress me. Or rather I suspect that it might depress me too much and I want to avoid it.

The reason why I decided to find out more about the book and what propelled me to start writing about my thoughts on the subject was talking yesterday to my dear friend about the book. She just finished it and was not sure what to make out of the book. One of the thoughts she had was that it is a warning against science going too far in interfering with human bodies.  I instinctively thought that this cannot be the message Ishiguro wanted to imprint on his readers. I said that, but I understood, of course, that my view was not substantiated my anything except my impressions created by other books and my personal interpretation. So, I thought that I should find out something about it and I listened to a couple of interviews with Ishiguro concerning the book. I was very happy to hear his comment about his disappointment at expressed views that the book is about experiments on human bodies and danger of cloning people. My intuition was right then. Listening to the interview I realized my reluctance to read this particular book was, in a way, justified, but also brought to my attention that I have not accepted my own mortality yet and I did not want to be confronted with the subject by the book. This is something which I need to come to grips with and perhaps reading the book may help me with it. The author says that the book is the metaphor of life which last a span and completes itself for each one of us. Wow, this turned out profound the way I put it (lol). In the book, the lifespan of the characters is about thirty years only. So, the book is sad, but not any more than life itself and apparently shows that there are reasons to live life well and meaningfully in spite (or because of) its limited time.

The book is about how we face the knowledge that our life is limited and how we live our life with the knowledge. There are things that are important to finish and finish well with understanding what is important.

I think that I’ll actually read the book in hope that it will help me to understand better what is important and take off the blinkers I still firmly have on.

I had a very loving mother, even if I sometimes doubted her love. She was protecting me from seeing the cruelty of life and imperfection of people. This was done often by misleading me and prolonging the time of innocent naivety presenting the world in pretty pictures. This meant that I may have left home not fully prepared to face the realities and that as a consequence I got hurt deeper than others not understanding for a while that people are imperfect and do not necessarily mean well.  This is what mothers typically do for their very young children, present the life as good, just, happy. And such are many moments in our lives. They are fleeting, but they are really good and worthwhile times in our lives and this is what we should strive to experience before our time comes.

I think, I may have got too far with my dissertations this time and I may remove or adjust the post, but for now, let me share it. My little end of the year indulgence.