Just finished this novel. I find Ishiguro unputdownable, usually, and this book was no different. Not in the whodunnit kind of way -- but he's master at creating suspense in the most ordinary everyday events, so you can't wait to turn the page and see what happens next.
In this novel, though, the world that Ishiguro creates is only deceptively ordinary and straightforward. It's the world of a private English school, Hailsham, described by the remniscences of Kathy H., now 31 years old. Her memories mostly focus on her friendships with Tommy and Ruth, starting from the time they were about 6.
As the story unfolds, the bizarreness and horror of Kathy's world is gradually exposed. Ishiguro's skill lies in presenting these horrific details so matter-of-factly, that when the true story of Hailsham comes out, the reader doesn't even experience a jolt. Through Kathy, we always know that something about Hailsham -- and about its students -- is not "normal." And like Kathy, the horror of her situation dawns on the reader only gradually.
But because of Ishiguro's deft handling, this story becomes about so much more than Hailsham. By questioning the very qualities that make us human, he underscores the frailties and strengths of relationships, of friends and lovers. The only thing that bothers me about Ishiguro's characters is how often I feel like shaking them out of sheer frustration. There are conversations that are left incomplete, significant words left unsaid, choices that the characters make, maybe out of timidity or uncertainty. Like the butler in "The Remains of the Day," Kathy chooses not to take risks, so that we, like her, experience a sense of sadness and loss as the book comes to an end.
Joyce Carol Oates has called Ishiguro "one of our most eloquent poets of loss." I would agree, adding that he's master of speculation on that favorite nostalgic pastime of most people: the road not taken.
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