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The book feels empty. It is very beautiful, to be sure, but empty. The reason for no valid solution to the current world situation is given in a few sentences but I would have preferred it delved into more. Also the constant hinting and references to the persistence of memory and the tragedy of knowledge condensed into a character’s musings is oddly hollow. Especially because her voice in it is initially charming and then repeats itself in tone and mannerism so it feels the author is the one speaking. He did do a good job with a female voice, though. (natface)

Natasha Face and I are on the cusp of being done, professionally.

I haven’t read Never Let Me Go in a year and a few months, but I recall it being the best novel I’d read since Josh Ferris’ first novel and lately only surpassed by Bolaño’s best work. It is not at core speculative fiction. It seems to be a master work of exposition without exposing too much. It is very sad. I tend to think of philosophy and literature and all writing, really, as not so much the construction of an argument or narrative (as an end—those are strategies, for sure) but rather as the creation of a type of sentience—like the frame of a house—by means exposing various aspects the connections between which are up to whomever. NLMG seems to succeed in almost every way I could think to judge it. It makes just enough world to make its world important and to validate the hell its characters endure.