#novels — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #novels, aggregated by home.social.
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Today is a wonderful day 🌞
3 new readers have picked up 3 books of mine
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
⚾ 1,500 VIEWS! 🎉
As MLB heads into the homestretch and the playoff races heat up, The First Out has reached 1,500 views on Royal Road!
Thank you to everyone who has followed Brad Hawley’s journey from promising prospect to the first openly gay active player in professional baseball.
The postseason is coming. Brad’s story is already here.🏳️🌈
https://tinyurl.com/2s3f8vdu
#amwriting #writingcommunity #LGBT #Gay #Baseball #sport #sports #MLB #MiLB #writers #novels #writersofmastodon
@lgbt
@baseball -
If anyone says I have too many books 😞
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
If anyone says I have too many books 😞
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
If anyone says I have too many books 😞
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
If anyone says I have too many books 😞
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
And wow, Beware the Ills is done, but I've got enough Greenland Diaries to last years. You can continue to read it every Monday and FRIDAYS. Two a week. Yay!
#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/the-greenland-diaries-day-74/
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And wow, Beware the Ills is done, but I've got enough Greenland Diaries to last years. You can continue to read it every Monday and FRIDAYS. Two a week. Yay!
#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/the-greenland-diaries-day-74/
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And wow, Beware the Ills is done, but I've got enough Greenland Diaries to last years. You can continue to read it every Monday and FRIDAYS. Two a week. Yay!
#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/the-greenland-diaries-day-74/
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And wow, Beware the Ills is done, but I've got enough Greenland Diaries to last years. You can continue to read it every Monday and FRIDAYS. Two a week. Yay!
#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/the-greenland-diaries-day-74/
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And wow, Beware the Ills is done, but I've got enough Greenland Diaries to last years. You can continue to read it every Monday and FRIDAYS. Two a week. Yay!
#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/the-greenland-diaries-day-74/
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The Greenland Diaries: Day 74
No ashes on my doorstep this morning.
My dreams were uneven, sweaty, and full of lost images from the pre-drum world. I was staying in a hotel I traveled to when I was ten or eleven. My dad used to work in Honolulu at their mall when I was kid. He’d fly back and forth all the time and stay in a condo by himself with a Japanese VCR and old Star Trek movies. I’m guessing he watched The Wrath of Khan a hundred times.
We’d stay in this really nice, white-pillared hotel called the Moana Surfrider on Waikiki beach. The hotel was nearly eighty years old. A disheveled, yet towering Banyan tree ruled its courtyard and rained hundreds of large nuts down on us. We’d spend our days dodging downpours, counting stylish Europeans, eating pineapple and Teriyaki burgers. My dad would insist we watch the sunset every evening.
I’d give anything to see him right now.
In the morning, I didn’t do anything but let Snowy roam around the lawn. The grass has spiked up past my knees now, and beneath the bristling spears are highways of hardened vines.
Snowy doesn’t go very far, it’s too hard for her to navigate. She likes to sit in the sun and pant. When Ling and I would take her outside on hot days, we’d laugh about how strangely comfortable she’d be panting in the heat.
At least someone is happy about the new environment.
In the afternoon, we wandered out into the neighborhood. I checked Gerald’s grave for tampering, but there weren’t any signs of the Unnamed. Maybe they could only sense the blood and not the ash. We circled the same blocks and billowing trees. I just didn’t feel like going any further.
When I walked back towards the shed, I thought I saw a little kid running away between a pair of houses. He was short and covered in dirt. Snowy barked at him. I wouldn’t have minded talking to him. It wouldn’t be strange or weird like my previous interactions. After hearing Gerald die, I don’t care about being awkward in this new apocalypse.
There can’t be very many of us left.
#apocalyptic #books #fiction #horror #journals #monsters #novels #reading #writing -
Brenna Kasey, author of Voidwalker
Why did you choose to write in your genre?
I’ve always written fantasy. As a kid, I grew up with Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z. Indiana Jones and Han Solo were my first-ever crushes (and obviously Harrison Ford is real cute too!) World of Warcraft became popular during my adolescence, and Halo too (I suck at shooter games, so I didn’t get into that one). I’ve always had my head in the clouds. Reality is very boring to me; I haven’t had the best of luck existing within reality. I’m forever looking for more, trying to find some meaning for existence. I can find that in fantasy, and I can create the coolest of characters inspired by all the fantastical things I’ve consumed over the years.
Are you a full-time or part-time writer, and how does that affect your writing?
When I started this series, I was a part-time writer. I have since become a full-time writer, and it’s allowed me to do so much more within my community of readers. I always made sure to have time for my books, but now I have ample time for my readers as well. I like to make sure I am interacting with everyone to the best of my ability within the confines of my story, so more time has been a very wonderful change.
What role does research play in your writing?
For the most part, I write about things I know or can easily imagine. I focus heavily on the characters, and my background with mental and behavioral health helps tremendously. But sometimes I write things that I don’t know; the later installments have been very modern combat-heavy. I’ve had to research bomb equipment, sniper information, medical procedures, etc.
I frequently refer to my DSM-5 when I’m writing. I know quite a bit already, but I usually have it available for reference. Especially when writing the end of Lightbringer (The Eôṅśa Book 3), I needed to make sure I was writing things correctly and in the correct terminology. I’ve written reports in case files before, but I’ve never written a full psych report, so it was a very slow process to make sure I did it justice.
What advice would you give to aspiring authors?
I see so many people becoming upset with their readers if their work isn’t universally loved. This is very strange to me. The entirety of humanity cannot all like the same things; our differences of opinion are what make us beautiful. You, yourself, do not like everything you’ve ever seen. Go into this journey knowing that people are going to dislike your work. People will pick it apart, make assumptions, and be incorrect at times. This is ok, and it is nothing to get upset about. Imagine a world where we were all exactly the same… how boring? Do not get upset at the humans around you for being human when you’re a human too. As long as you like your work, that’s what matters. There will be plenty of people who love what you create, and that more than makes up for the negativity you’ll occasionally get.
Can you share a little bit about your latest book?
Voidwalker: Deep Cover (The Eôṅśa Book 5) is publishing on December 27th, 2026. It follows Selena as she goes undercover to carry out a rescue mission, and simultaneously follows another character’s slow descent into madness. Secrets are uncovered, and the events of the previous books are called into question. This series is meant to make readers question what they think they know, and this book delivers us right into uncertainty.
I cannot say much else without spoiling everything!
Who is your favorite character in your book and why?
I have three, but I will name them by their domains instead of their names to avoid full spoilers. In no particular order: Valor, Destiny, and Ruin.
These characters, to me, are the most fun to write and the most interesting (sometimes tragic) stories. They challenge me as a writer, especially the only female character on the list. It is supremely hard to keep everything together in a mostly cohesive way and to provide a timeline for my readers that makes sense. Also, the interactions between them are some of the most rewarding to write, though of course they are not all neat and pretty interactions.
Who is your least favorite character and why?
Again, domains, not names. I’m going to get a lot of hate for this, but Justice and Storms are my least favorite characters. They are easy to write, and I know them very well, so they are boring to me. This doesn’t mean they are bad characters (they are reader favorites), but to me, they just aren’t the best ones I’ve got.
What is your next project?
I am beginning to draft book 6 (publishing June 2027), and this one will be the hardest for me to write. I can’t say why without a major spoiler, so I’ll leave it at that.
Additionally, I have begun work on The Eôṅśa Fanthology. I’ve invited readers to create their own fanfictions and fanart based on the information in books 1-3. It’s going to be a lot of work, but community is extremely important to me and to my project. I am happy to say that I’ve got a handful of people already on the team and in the beginning stages of churning out a piece of storytelling history. We’re looking at a summer 2027 release, but please do not hold us to that!
And I am always working on my Instagram, which is canon and serves as an entry point for readers to join the story.
Who is your favorite fictional character and why?
Yuna from Final Fantasy 10; you’ll see her staff is tattooed on my right hand/arm (very unfinished) if you see a picture or video of me. Her story feels very similar to my own. She begins the game trying her best to be who she thinks the world needs her to be. By the end, she has learned to think for herself, to stand up for what she believes is right even if it isn’t the way the rest of the world thinks. She quite literally helps the souls of the dead transition into the farplane (the afterlife, whatever you prefer to call it), and most of my career was spent helping people find peace within their lives here on earth. She is, in my opinion, the greatest hero character ever written. That particular game is my favorite story ever written too, so I suppose I am biased. But her journey is so beautiful to me. We should absolutely fight for life and happiness and truth, and we should not blindly bow down to establishments just because they are established. Challenge everything, think for yourself, and above all else, live by your morals.
Want to learn more about Brenna Kasey?
Goodreads | StoryGraph | Instagram | Linktree
#fantasy #Fiction #novels -
WHAT AM I READING?
Just finished Ancient Rome by Simon Baker. It stuck with me after I put it down, the mark of a good book. So reminiscent of our current times (despite being over 2000 years ago) and our power hungry, self-centred leaders. A lesson in why we really don't need to anoint a leader for any of our societies.Started The Midnight Train by Matt Haig. So far: like the Midnight Library but slightly better story.
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WHAT AM I READING?
Just finished Ancient Rome by Simon Baker. It stuck with me after I put it down, the mark of a good book. So reminiscent of our current times (despite being over 2000 years ago) and our power hungry, self-centred leaders. A lesson in why we really don't need to anoint a leader for any of our societies.Started The Midnight Train by Matt Haig. So far: like the Midnight Library but slightly better story.
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WHAT AM I READING?
Just finished Ancient Rome by Simon Baker. It stuck with me after I put it down, the mark of a good book. So reminiscent of our current times (despite being over 2000 years ago) and our power hungry, self-centred leaders. A lesson in why we really don't need to anoint a leader for any of our societies.Started The Midnight Train by Matt Haig. So far: like the Midnight Library but slightly better story.
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WHAT AM I READING?
Just finished Ancient Rome by Simon Baker. It stuck with me after I put it down, the mark of a good book. So reminiscent of our current times (despite being over 2000 years ago) and our power hungry, self-centred leaders. A lesson in why we really don't need to anoint a leader for any of our societies.Started The Midnight Train by Matt Haig. So far: like the Midnight Library but slightly better story.
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WHAT AM I READING?
Just finished Ancient Rome by Simon Baker. It stuck with me after I put it down, the mark of a good book. So reminiscent of our current times (despite being over 2000 years ago) and our power hungry, self-centred leaders. A lesson in why we really don't need to anoint a leader for any of our societies.Started The Midnight Train by Matt Haig. So far: like the Midnight Library but slightly better story.
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I sold a book today!
Thank you to the person who ordered my book from Amazon.
#booksky #books #KU #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
In a land where ancient gods have fallen silent and kingdoms crumble beneath the weight of betrayal, war, and dark sorcery, destinies are forged in blood and fire.
The Shattered Kingdoms a.co/d/07eYQjuj
#booksky #books #thriller #suspense #novels #mythological #fiction #fantasy #crime #sifi #indie
The Shattered Kingdoms -
Last day of the month going well
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die!
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
The Last Forge of Aetherius a.co/d/0e4VAJWJ
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie
The Last Forge of Aetherius -
EVERYONE-
I SOLD A BOOK JUST NOW!
BE HAPPY FOR MEEEE 🕺🏽🕺🏽
#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie -
On Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go and the Particular Cruelty of Goodbye
August 23, 2026My second Kazuo Ishiguro novel was Never Let Me Go. The first was The Remains of the Day, a book I admired more than I loved. I thought it was beautifully written, impeccably controlled, but Stevens and his regrets never quite got under my skin. I appreciated the novel. That is not the same thing as being moved by it. There is a difference, sometimes an enormous one.
So I did not come to Never Let Me Go expecting to weep. I did not even know what it was about. Perhaps that was the ideal way to read it. Perhaps not, because I nearly failed to read it at all.
The first hundred pages were a struggle for me. Not because Ishiguro writes badly. Quite the opposite. His prose is smooth, almost unnervingly smooth. The sentences move easily. The pages do not present the kind of linguistic resistance I encountered in, say, Blood Meridian, where I felt as though I needed a machete and a dictionary merely to get through a paragraph. Never Let Me Go is perfectly readable. And yet I could not get through it.
I was in a reading slump, or, as I called it at the time, a reading slop. I would pick the book up, read a few pages, put it down. Days passed. Then weeks. The story did not seem to be going anywhere sufficiently interesting for me. Kathy H. was telling me about her childhood, about school, about friendships, about little resentments and jealousies and romances. Fine. All right. But where was this going?
Then there were these words. Carer. Donor. Guardian.
They appeared with a peculiar casualness, as though I were supposed to understand what they meant. The characters certainly did. Nobody stopped to explain them to me. Ishiguro does not put up a sign saying, Attention, reader. Here is the premise of the novel. Instead, he lets the vocabulary of this world drift past you, almost innocently.
I was confused. And, regrettably, I cheated. I asked Google.
There are moments when one should exercise more patience as a reader. This was one of them. Google, that great destroyer of narrative surprises, promptly informed me what was going on. The plot was revealed. I knew what Hailsham was. I knew what Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy were. I knew what “donations” and “completion” meant. I cannot blame Ishiguro for this. This was entirely my own impatience. And yet, even knowing what was coming, Never Let Me Go devastated me.
That, I think, says something about the novel’s power. A plot twist can be spoiled. The emotional experience of a story cannot always be. Knowing that a person is going to die is not the same as watching him or her walk toward death. Knowing the destination does not spare you the journey. Sometimes it makes the journey worse.
The strangest thing about Never Let Me Go is that the horror of its premise is almost never presented as horror. There are no laboratories filled with cackling scientists. No dystopian rebellion. No grand revelation followed by revolution. No protagonist standing on a barricade, screaming that the system must be destroyed. The characters simply live. They go to school. They make friends. They quarrel. They fall in love, or think they do. They become jealous. They remember small humiliations with astonishing clarity. They cling to objects and songs and private jokes. They misunderstand one another. They want to be special. In other words, they are human.
That is the terrible joke of the novel, if one can call something this sad a joke. The society of Never Let Me Go has created human beings for a purpose, assigned them a fate, and then proceeds as though that fate settles everything. But the novel itself quietly asks a more difficult question: if these people can love, grieve, desire, remember, envy, hope, and fear, then what exactly are we denying them when we deny them a future?
The answer is almost too obvious to say. Everything.
Kathy’s narration is central to why the novel works so well. She tells her story retrospectively, in a voice that is calm, conversational, occasionally meandering. She doubles back. She corrects herself. She remembers one incident and then suddenly recalls another that complicates it. At times, her narration feels almost like someone talking to you during a long drive, saying, “Actually, before I get to that, I should probably explain something else.” I loved this. It is a deceptively simple style. Ishiguro makes memory feel like memory. Not memory as a perfectly organized archive, with neat labels and chronological order, but memory as something porous and unruly. One recollection opens another. A trivial detail acquires importance years later. Something that seemed insignificant becomes, in retrospect, unbearable. Kathy does not narrate like a person delivering a thesis on her own life. She narrates like someone trying to make sense of it. And perhaps that is all any of us are doing.
There is also something heartbreaking about the limits of her rebellion, if rebellion is even the right word. Kathy is not stupid. Neither are Tommy or Ruth. They understand, eventually, what their lives are. But understanding does not necessarily produce resistance. That is one of the novel’s most uncomfortable truths. You like to imagine that knowledge makes you free. If you knew the truth, you would act. You would fight. You would refuse. Wouldn’t you?
The characters in Never Let Me Go are shaped by the world before they are old enough to question it. Their vocabulary, expectations, ambitions, even their fantasies have been constructed within the boundaries of their existence. They do not dream of becoming kings or astronauts or old men and women surrounded by grandchildren. Their hopes are smaller because the world has made them smaller. This is not entirely science fiction. It is not even entirely dystopian. Most people live inside assumptions they did not choose.
You inherit ideas about success, beauty, love, work, family, nation, morality. You are born into systems already functioning, rules already established, expectations already waiting for you. Perhaps some people escape them. Others do not. Most of us, probably, spend our lives negotiating with them and congratulating ourselves for choices that were not as free as we would like to believe.
The tragedy of Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy is extreme. That is why it reveals something more ordinary. They know they are going to die. So do you. Their lives have an expiration date attached to them. So do yours. The difference is that their deaths have been organized into a system, given a sequence, a purpose, and polite euphemisms. They will become carers. They will become donors. Eventually, they will “complete.”
Complete. What a monstrous word.
There is a particular cruelty in euphemism. To “complete” is not to die, at least not linguistically. Language tidies up what reality would otherwise force you to confront. And the people in the novel have inherited this language. They use it because it is the language available to them.
Ishiguro understands something important about cruelty: it does not always announce itself with violence, yet when it arrives, it is final. Sometimes it becomes most efficient when everyone has learned how to speak about it gently. But for all the philosophical implications of the novel, what destroyed me was not the premise. It was the people. I felt their friendship. I felt the love between them. I even felt the ugliness of their relationships, because friendship is not always noble. Ruth can be infuriating. She manipulates. She lies. She creates little fictions around herself. She wounds people because, perhaps, she senses that there is so little available to her that she must possess whatever she can, even if only emotionally. She can be a cunt, and yet I could not hate her.
That is another thing Ishiguro does brilliantly. He allows his characters their pettiness without reducing them to their pettiness. Ruth is not merely the villain standing between Kathy and Tommy. She is frightened. She wants to be loved. She wants to believe that she matters. She wants a life that she cannot have, though she does not always know how to articulate this desire.
Tommy, too, is more than the awkward boy with the temper. Kathy is more than the sensible, observant narrator. Their relationships shift because people shift. Love arrives too late. Understanding arrives too late. Apologies arrive too late. That is life, unfortunately. A great deal of life consists of timing.
There are things you could have said earlier. There are people you could have loved better. There are apologies that become meaningful precisely because there is no longer enough time for them to repair anything.
Ishiguro’s restraint makes these things hurt more. He does not wrench emotion out of you through grand speeches. He does not shout. The novel is often almost quiet. And because it is quiet, the sadness has room to accumulate. Then, suddenly, you realize what you have been reading. A story about people being prepared, from childhood, to say goodbye. A story about people who are told, in one way or another, that they do not belong to themselves. A story about how love cannot save everyone.
That last part is important. Love does not save Kathy and Tommy. It does not produce the miracle they hope for. There is no hidden loophole in the machinery of the world. No exception granted because their love is especially pure. The world is not moved by the fact that two people finally understand what they mean to each other.
How could I not be devastated by that?
I have always been susceptible to goodbyes in stories. Apparently, I can fancy myself stoic. I can imagine that I have been desensitized by enough books, enough films, enough fictional deaths. Then a story places two people before me and tells me, quietly, that this is the last time. That they have to part. That one of them will go on and the other will not. And I am finished.
There is something especially painful about the goodbyes in Never Let Me Go because the characters have so little control over them. Every goodbye is connected to the larger goodbye waiting ahead. Even happiness becomes fragile because you know, or eventually know, that it cannot last. But then again, whose happiness can?
Perhaps this is where the novel becomes more than its premise. Strip away Hailsham. Strip away cloning. Strip away the donations. What remains is recognizably human. We all live among people we will lose. We all experience periods of life without knowing, while we are living them, that they will one day become memory. A school. A room. A song. A friend you assume you will always know. Then time moves. The thing is over. And nobody announces the final moment while it is happening.
Kathy’s memories are painful because they are all she has left. But perhaps memories are all any of us have left eventually. You move forward, and the past becomes increasingly inaccessible. People disappear. Places change. The version of yourself who inhabited a particular moment ceases to exist, too. There are many deaths in a life before the body finally catches up.
This may sound excessively gloomy. It probably is. But Never Let Me Go does not leave me with despair exactly. I would not call it hopeful either. Hope is too easy a word to throw at a book like this. The novel leaves me with something more complicated: an awareness of the terrible value of ordinary life. The characters are not remarkable because they are destined for greatness. They are remarkable because they care about ordinary things. A cassette tape. A gesture. A memory of a field. A person sleeping beside them. The possibility of more time. Is that not enough?
Perhaps the novel’s deepest cruelty is that it makes you understand the preciousness of life through people who have been systematically denied the right to live one fully. Their tragedy illuminates your own good fortune, if that is what you should call it. You are not guaranteed anything either, but you are at least permitted the illusion that the future is open. Kathy and Tommy are not. And still they love. Still they hope. Still they try to imagine a little more time together.
I had misgivings about Never Let Me Go when I began it. I thought the story would not move me much. I nearly abandoned it in the first hundred pages. I spoiled the plot for myself because I was impatient and confused. Honestly, this was not my finest hour as a reader. But once I returned to it, the novel kept me turning the pages. The storytelling is patient and deliberate, and Ishiguro’s writing is wonderfully smooth. Of the two Ishiguro novels I have read, this is the one that reached me. The Remains of the Day made me admire Ishiguro. Never Let Me Go made me feel him. And feeling, I suppose, is the more dangerous thing. By the end, I wept.
Then, apparently deciding that I had not suffered enough, I went ahead and watched the 2010 film adaptation. And I wept some more.
Perhaps watching the film immediately after finishing the novel was not the wisest decision. I had barely recovered from the book, if “recovered” is even the appropriate word, before willingly subjecting myself to the same story all over again. There is something different about seeing those goodbyes made visible, about watching Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth embodied rather than merely imagined. The film could not replace the novel, nor should it. Ishiguro’s voice, Kathy’s digressive memories, that gradual accumulation of dread, these belong especially to the book. But the film gave the tragedy another form, and I was apparently susceptible to that too.
So there I was, devastated by the novel, and then devastated again by the adaptation. I really should learn to leave well enough alone.
But perhaps that second round of tears confirmed something for me. The story was not merely effective because Ishiguro had surprised me, and certainly not because I did not know the plot. I knew exactly what was going to happen by then. I had read it. I had watched the characters walk toward the inevitable. The inevitability remained inevitable. And it still hurt.
Not because Ishiguro tricks you into sadness. Not because the novel manipulates you with cheap tragedy. I wept because I had come to care about these people, their ridiculous little jealousies, their memories, their failed timing, their affection for one another. I wept because they had to say goodbye.
Because ultimately Never Let Me Go is a novel about letting go, about goodbyes. The goodbye to childhood. The goodbye to friendship as it once was. The goodbye to the person one loves. The goodbye to the fantasy that there will always be more time. And finally, the last goodbye, the one waiting for everyone.
Ishiguro gives his characters a world in which death is scheduled and unavoidable, then asks you to watch what they do with the little life allowed to them. The answer is almost unbearably simple. They live it. They love badly and well. They remember. They lose one another. They say goodbye. And apparently, no matter how stoic I fancy myself, that is still enough to break me.
#bibliophilia #bookReview #books #fiction #KazuoIshiguro #literaryFiction #literature #NeverLetMeGo #novels #reading
