Julian Sanchez | October 10, 2005
Mike Godwin reviews Kazuo Ishiguro's clone-slave bildungsroman.
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It would appear the review was dropped in the memory hole. I wonder what it said that they don't want us to know?
This is the book that, according to the author, isn't science
fiction because it deals with what it means to be human.
We've been hearing a lot of this lately.
A reminder that it was Ray Bradbury who said that the 1950's
definition of SF was a plot driven by technology, and by that
definition Singin' In The Rain counts as SF while Martian
Chronicles doesn't.
Heh. It's not science fiction mainly because it's marketed as
literary fiction. The publishers certainly won't complain about
science fiction readers recognizing it as such if it sells more
books.
It does deal with what it means to be human, and I think it's
interesting that Ishiguru framed it in what can be seen as an
animal rights model. The narrator and her two friends are "lucky"
enough to grow up in Hailsham, a posh free-range sort of clone farm
started by do-gooders to improve the quality of life of the clones
and perhaps prove that they do have souls. But the Hailsham
students, cossetted though their upbringing may be compared to the
other clones, are destined for the same processing plant in the
end. The book is harrowing in its utter loneliness, as piece by
piece, the three main characters let themselves go to others.
Indeed, even a casual reader of Never Let Me Go can see how
little the author (who has become known in his other work for
painstaking craftsmanship) cares for whether this whole
cloning-for-spare-parts scenario is politically or scientifically
credible.
Then what's the point? The best science fiction takes an (at this
time) impossible contrivance; FTL travel, artificial intelligence,
extraterrestrials, cloning, an all-encompassing surveillance
society, etc. and pitches it to the reader in such a way that s/he
finds no reason to question it. From there it builds upon human
implications of a fantastic premise. The very best scifi will give
you a new way of looking at those implications.
But, for the life of me, I can't buy into Ishiguro's contrivance
for three reasons:
1)I cannot see a modern society tolerating this. We live in a world
where people like Jehova's Witnesses refuse to take blood
transfusions, to say nothing of the theocratic nutjobs who freak
out over even the cloning and growth of stem cells. Perhaps things
in Great Britain are different and my perception is colored by my
primarily American cultural world view.
2)As a book, the science fiction contrivance (Are cloned people
truly human?) and examined cultural implications (Yes, of course)
is simply too pat. So what? What's thought provoking about that? In
the end, it doesn't challenge the reader to think about something
in a new way, it just reinforces what they already believe to be
true. In that respect it fails as a work of scifi, and, quite
frankly, I think the genre of scifi should distance itself from
this book just as much as Ishiguro and the mad line of yammering
reviewers are attempting to distance it from scifi.
3)Godwin touches on plot points that deal with people who are able
to rationalize horrible things, both to themselves and others. But
then why the need for a scifi contrivance? History is full of
examples of this; at the risk of pulling a Godwin, you have the
German civilians who rationalized or ignored the systematic
slaughter of Jews, to the Americans who put Japanese-Americans into
internment camps, to the Hutu and Tutsi tribemembers who wantonly
slaughtered each other with machetes. Heck, I'm utterly pro-choice
with regard to the abortion debate, but I would find a pro-life
slanted novel from the point of view of an abortion provider more
interesting than this. The world is full of people doing terrible
things or having terrible things done to them, and rationalizing
their position. Heck, he need not even use a historical time
period, instead choosing to create a fictional, but reality-based
one. In the end, I think this makes Ishiguro guilty of the worst
crime one can make when writing scifi: using a speculative plot
contrivance when it is not needed.
In the end, I will admit that this is based purely on conjecture.
I've not read Never Let Me Go and fully acknowledge that
my impression, based on hearing an interview on NPR and reading a
couple of reviews, could be completely mistaken.
But I kinda doubt it.
History is full of examples of this; at the risk of pulling
a Godwin, you have the German civilians who rationalized or ignored
the systematic slaughter of Jews, to the Americans who put
Japanese-Americans into internment camps, to the Hutu and Tutsi
tribemembers who wantonly slaughtered each other with
machetes.
And what of the English butlers who apologized for their
pro-fascist bosses? Why hasn't Ishiguro ever written a book about
that?
Tim-
Admittedly, I haven't read "The Remains of the Day" but yes, that
would be a perfect example. My point is that there seems to be no
need for the scifi trappings of his latest novel. What grates on me
is that he has written a scifi book that doesn't really seem to
need the scifi trappings to examine the
personal/societal/whathaveyou implications, and then he and his
reviewers go to great lengths to point out that this is a work of
literature not scifi.
That just grates on me, smacking of priggish literary
snobbery.
The antithesis of this would be Neal Stephenson, whose last few
books have been anything but scifi, but still are able to
contain the best element of the genre; the examination of
sociological/cultural/personal/political implications of major
changes brought about by societal influence or a few enterprising
individuals. Stephenson openly embraces scifi's tradition of
looking at things from a fresh perspective, despite having dropped
the fantastical trappings. Even then, Stephenson has no qualms
about having the thematic scifi elements of these books brought up
in discussion.
Godwin touches on plot points that deal with people who are
able to rationalize horrible things, both to themselves and others.
But then why the need for a scifi contrivance? History is full of
examples of this...
One advantage of using a science fiction backdrop instead of a
historial one, though, is that you can examine a facet of human
existence with a fresh perspective, without the baggage of an
actual incident from history.
This is the book that, according to the author, isn't
science fiction because it deals with what it means to be human.
We've been hearing a lot of this lately.
You hear it every time the author thinks he can gain or retain some
lit-credibility by denying that it has the gauche taint of
genre...or when the author or publisher thinks they can make more
money that way.
Stevo, this is true. But the setting need not necessarily be
historical.
But this gets back to one of my primary gripes: what purpose does
his use of a scifi backdrop serve?
Is it to get us to question whether or not a clone of a person is
truly human? Are there honestly people out there that need to read
a novel to get them to think about this? Really?
Or is the purpose of the novel to get us to examine how people cope
and rationalize what little they have when they are in horrible
circumstances? In that case, what purpose does the cloning angle
serve? Call me a cynic, but it smacks of nothing more than a veneer
slapped onto an examination of humanity in order to make it seem
timely.
"I have been a soreheaded occupant of a file drawer labeled
Science Fiction and I would like out, particularly since so many
serious critics regularly mistake the drawer for a urinal.
-Kurt Vonnegut
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