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A review by arthuriana
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
3.0
You know, someone should invent a device that would make me 'unknow' the story of a certain plotline, so as to be able to enjoy it fully when experiencing it in two mediums. For example: I've watched the movie adaptation of this first, if only for the reason that Andrew Garfield starred in there (it was a phase). The movie was heart-wrenching and emotionally exhausting. I cannot believe the impact that it had on me that time—the impact it has on me still, if I were to be honest. The movie was, to put it plainly, beautiful, and it ranks as one of the best movies I've ever watched.
Of course, knowing that there was a book, I tried my best to find it, which was not that hard, seeing as almost every bookstore in my country has this book. What was hard was finding the courage to actually buy the thing. What if I didn't like it? Or, God forbid, if I hated it? I couldn't stand that thought, so I decided that it was better to live in a state of ignorance.
Well, after months of ignorance, I finally decided to step out of the darkness and into the light. I've read this book, and discovered that whoever said that ignorance was bliss was utterly correct. I could understand the merits of this book and—dare I say it?—it could even be called perfect.
The thing is, the movie's better in telling this storyline, and I don't have a single reason why. The novel's prose is simplistic, true, as if the character was just telling a story by the hearth rather than actually sound like writing a novel: but that's the beauty of the prose in here. It sounds more authentic, more real, as if the experiences of the characters were just near our grasp. The characters, too, are quite lively drawn. They act, move, and talk like normal people, and I sympathized with their plight, which is certainly more than can be said of other books that I've read this year.
So, really, this book should have gotten five stars; but, despite knowing that it's excellent, I still didn't quite enjoy it as much as I did the movie. And that, I suppose, is all the difference.
Of course, knowing that there was a book, I tried my best to find it, which was not that hard, seeing as almost every bookstore in my country has this book. What was hard was finding the courage to actually buy the thing. What if I didn't like it? Or, God forbid, if I hated it? I couldn't stand that thought, so I decided that it was better to live in a state of ignorance.
Well, after months of ignorance, I finally decided to step out of the darkness and into the light. I've read this book, and discovered that whoever said that ignorance was bliss was utterly correct. I could understand the merits of this book and—dare I say it?—it could even be called perfect.
The thing is, the movie's better in telling this storyline, and I don't have a single reason why. The novel's prose is simplistic, true, as if the character was just telling a story by the hearth rather than actually sound like writing a novel: but that's the beauty of the prose in here. It sounds more authentic, more real, as if the experiences of the characters were just near our grasp. The characters, too, are quite lively drawn. They act, move, and talk like normal people, and I sympathized with their plight, which is certainly more than can be said of other books that I've read this year.
So, really, this book should have gotten five stars; but, despite knowing that it's excellent, I still didn't quite enjoy it as much as I did the movie. And that, I suppose, is all the difference.