Never Let Me Go

Author: Kazuo Ishiguro
Published: Vintage International, 2006
288 pages
 
It's really going to be difficult to write a review of this vague and super-mysterious book without giving away the whole thing, but I really want to get this out there because this is one of my favorite books I've read recently.  Told from 31-year-old Kathy's point of view, it is divided into three parts, which roughly represent her childhood, adolescence, and adulthood.
 
The bulk of the book is Kathy detailing her upbringing and schooling at a very private institution known as Hailsham, where children are raised in a boarding school-type setting by adults known to them as "guardians."  Hailsham has some strange rules and customs, but the children (including Kathy and her best friends Ruth and Tommy) are happy to accept and live with them.  Every couple of weeks, the headmistress of Hailsham comes and takes the children's very best artwork (poetry, paintings, sculptures, etc.).  Very proud of their creative endeavors, the children are mystified by this practice and always wonder why the headmistress takes their work and what she is using it for.
 
Kathy talks a lot about her relationships with Ruth and Tommy, Ruth and Tommy's relationship with each other, specific experiences from their childhoods, etc.  But what's most interesting about this book is the underlying plot that we only get very subtle hints at every couple of pages.
 
Through a whole lot of reading between the lines and a few direct clues, the position and purpose of the children at Hailsham is very slowly revealed.  One reviewer called this book "quietly disturbing," and I really can't think of a better way to describe it.
 
Once I started to figure out the mystery behind Hailsham, I could not put this book down.  I wanted more hints and more clarity, which Ishiguro is extremely stingy with.  It is heartbreaking, disturbing, and deeply moving.  At its heart, it is a realistic representation of how someone actually living in a dystopia might see the world -- no judgment, no hindsight, no foresight.
 
Anyway, I hope I gave away enough that people will want to read it but not so much that it will ruin the mystery.  I know at least my mom will read it, and I take solace in the fact that when she skips to the last chapter to figure out what's going on, she won't be able to figure it out.  #winning

The Golden Compass: His Dark Materials, Book 1

Author: Philip Pullman
Published: 1996, Knopf
399 pages

Philip Pullman is a genius.  I could talk about this book for days, but I'll try to reel it in as best I can.  This is Book #1 in a trilogy, and probably the only one I'll talk about unless I get requests to post about the others.  The other two are The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass.  The truth is, there are so many underlying themes in all of these books that can go right over children's heads, but there is also a fantastic story that everyone can enjoy.

The story follows the child Lyra Belacqua, who is easily my favorite character ever created, as she travels to the North to save her friend and other children who have been captured to endure horrendous experiments at the hands of the Magisterium.  Pullman has created a truly magical world in which polar bears can talk, witches fly through the Northern sky, and all humans have animal counterparts called daemons.

In the midst of Lyra's adventure, Pullman manages to skillfully intertwine elements of modern science, my favorite being the Many-Worlds Theory of quantum physics.  If you're interested in that aspect, an entire book has been written about that alone: The Science of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials.

There has been a lot of controversy about this book, especially when it was being made into a movie in 2007, that stems mostly from Pullman's outspoken atheism.  There are certainly some elements in The Golden Compass that are anti-organized religion, but this theme is not as prevalent in the first book as it is in the second two (and definitely not as prevalent as it is in his latest book: The Good Man Jesus and The Scoundrel Christ).  And, frankly, the story is good enough that if you didn't know anything about the controversy before reading it, you might completely miss it.

Anyway, I'm glad I'm so obsessed with this book because now I can name my future spawn Lyra instead of "Ponyboy Curtis," which I was planning to do after reading The Outsiders and which is just not a socially acceptable name (no, not even for a librarian's child).  My future child thanks you, Philip Pullman.