Kazuo Ishiguro incorporates elements from many different genres in his novel, Never Let Me Go. There are elements of romance between Kathy and Tommy. It is a Bildungsroman in the sense that it follows these children from their early education into adulthood. And, it is a science fiction novel. The fact that Ishiguro borrows from so many different genres can make it hard to determine where his book fits in. But based on the strong science fiction elements, particularly the scene in which Kathy and Tommy believe they see the woman who Ruth was cloned from, it is possible to determine that Never Let Me Go is science fiction above all else. 

As with all other genre elements that can be found in this novel, the science fiction elements are subtle. Unlike most sci-fi stories, we aren’t given a detailed explanation up front about how the laws of science work in this world. Instead, the reality of donors and their possibles (that is, people who exist to donate their vital organs and the people they were cloned from) is slowly revealed to the reader. The author first provides a detailed explanation when Miss Lucy decides to tell the children what their fates will be when she overhears a couple of students discussing the idea of becoming movie stars. The second time in the novel that the reader is given a good idea of this concept of donor/possible is when Tommy and Kathy believe they see Ruth’s possible. 

Following this scene, we learn that possibles are (possibly) the people from whom donors like Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth were cloned. This makes two major “scientific” revelations that occur over the course of the novel. While there are elements of romance, Bildungsroman, and other genres, the only genre element that is consistent throughout the book is science fiction. The Bildungsroman ends once the children grow up and enter adulthood and the romance subplot between Kathy and Tommy ends once Tommy has accepted his fate and calls off their relationship, dying from a donation shortly after. 

However, we have the introduction of the first science fiction element in part one of the book when Miss Lucy telling the kids the truth about their futures. In the second part, we have another science fiction element with Ruth’s possible. As science fiction is the one thread that consistently runs through the different parts of this book, it is possible to categorize Never Let Me Go as science fiction. 

Never Let Me Go, as a novel, is one big metaphor for the disappointment of adulthood and the acceptance that all people must learn to have for it. The scene in which Miss Lucy dashes the children’s hopes of becoming movie stars is a prime example of this. One day, several “students” at Halisham are discussing what they would like to do for future careers when Miss Lucy overhears them and, unable to contain herself, responds by explaining to all the children that they won’t be able to do any of the things they want to do because of what their existence at the bizarre school implies about their future. It might seem unusual at first that these children already have their fates decided, but is it really? Most of us have unrealistic dreams of becoming movie stars, doctors, or musicians at one point or another, but few will actually make the cut. As the majority of people enter adulthood, and the reality of rent, insurance, and other life expenses begins to set in, they must learn to accept that their childhood dreams will remain just that: dreams.

The conflict that occurs when the aspirations of youth clash with the disappointment of adulthood is what Kazuo Ishiguro tries to capture in Never Let Me Go. If we choose to interpret the novel in this way, then Miss Lucy represents the school counselor or adult who has to break it to a kid that no, they won’t be a pilot. Or no, they won’t get into their dream school. Life is hard for the students in Ishiguro’s novel, but just like with all of us, it becomes easier once they learn to accept it for what it is. 

In my last post, I looked at the relationship between Grace Marks and Jerimiah: whereas Grace in her unusual position of power represents a subversion to 19th century gender roles, Jerimiah represents a subversion to 19th century religiousness through his “magic” and conjuring tricks. There is another parallel that can be drawn between these characters, though. Both are immigrants from ethnic backgrounds typically looked down on in their society. Grace is of Irish decent and a member of an exploited minority in Canada, whereas Jeramiah is Italian and a gypsy, bringing with him his own array of bad associations. It is not enough to note that both characters are immigrants, however. Jeramiah and Grace are also on the same side. It is Jerimiah who hypnotizes Grace during the climax of the book, causing her to be “possessed” by the spirit of Mary, Grace’s friend who died from a botched abortion years earlier. Whether or not the possession was real or she was acting, Grace recognizes who Jerimiah is and the two share a secret back-and-forth in front of Dr. Jordan, Rev. Verringer, and the rest. Grace and Jerimiah both come from immigrant backgrounds but both are also on the same side as they share the common goal of freeing Grace. 

Alias Grace is full of subversions. Subversions to patriarchy, subversions to gender roles, and subversion to mysticism. In the way that Grace’s empowerment via the way she controls her narrative subverts her female role in 19th century society, Jeramiah and the hypnosis subplot offer subversions to religion and medicine. Jeramiah is framed like an almost mystical character, performing tricks and hypnosis. His presence infects the medical and religious setting of Grace’s captivity, just as Grace infects the patriarchal narrative of the world she lives in. Note, I am not using the term “infect” in a negative sense. 

“Some wanted him to tell their fortunes by looking into their hands; but Agnes said it was meddling with the Devil, and that Mrs. Alderman Parkinson would not want word to get round of such gypsy doings in her kitchen” (Atwood 155). 

“Jeremiah had done a conjuring trick, as surely as he’d pulled a coin from my ear, or made believe to swallow a fork; and just as he used to do such tricks in full view, with everyone looking on but unable to detect him, he had done the same here, and made a pact with me under their very eyes, and they were none the wiser” (Atwood 306). 

What does the introduction of Jerimiah do to the narrative of Alias Grace? What parallels can be drawn between Grace and Jerimiah?

Outline: In the first quote we read about Jerimiah’s introduction. As can be inferred, he threatens Protestant 19th century Canada. His magic tricks terrify Mrs. Parkinson. He is an outsider to this society in the same way Grace is. More than that, he is a subversion to religious tradition in the same way that Grace is a subversion to gender roles. His entrance to the plot introduces mysticism to the story and, later on, will introduce the haunting element. In the second quote, we see greater emphasis on the parallel between Grace and Jerimiah. Not only are they similar for their outsider status, but they are on the same side during the trial. 

Throughout Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace we are shown two sides of the titular character, Grace Marks. On the one hand we have the innocent Grace who appears to be nothing more than a woman who was unfortunately involved in a heinous crime when all she really wants is to tend to her quilting. On the other hand, we are also presented with a version of Grace who is much more cunning and devious and whose motives are constantly in question. Regardless of which is the true Grace, we see only what she intends for us to see. From the beginning Grace is in charge of telling her own story to Dr. Simon. This allows her to craft a persona and a story to her own benefit, pulling together pieces just as she does in her quilting pattern. Just as in the case of the murders, it is one person’s word against hers. Whatever this woman knows, it is never made clear to Dr. Simon nor us what is true. Grace Marks has been put into a strange position that women of the time period rarely found themselves in: a position of power. She has been given the opportunity to tell her own story and takes full advantage of it in order to protect her innocence and empower herself. 

Kyhana Butler:

-How does Saleem relate his genesis story in Midnight’s Children to the Genesis story in The Bible? 

Outline: Rushdie makes allusions to The Bible with no one knowing the true age of Tai. When Aadam asks Tai his age, he replies “I have watched mountains being born … I saw that Isa, that Christ, when he came to Kashmir.” In the old world of Kashmir, Tai acts as a sort of stand-in for God. Another allusion would be that Rushdie begins the story with Saleem’s grandfather, who’s name, Aadam, which is similar to Adam in The Bible. Aadam comes from Kashmir which is described as a  place “a man comes to … enjoy life or to end it.” Kashmir, in this representation, could be an allegory for Eden, where man began at God’s creation and ended at original sin. 

Bonnie Atelsek:

-How does Rushdie’s use of negative space relate to postmodernism? 

• “One Kashmir morning in the early Spring of 1915, my grandfather Aadam Aziz hit his nose against a frost hardened tussock of earth while attempting to pray … he resolved never again to kiss earth for any god or man. This decision, however, made a hole in him. A vacancy in a vital inner chamber. 
• “Naseem Aziz, whom [Aadam] had made the mistake of loving in fragments.”

-Perforated sheet (“loving in fragments”).

-Potential death of God/loss of faith.

-Fragmentation of narrative/relationships. 

-loss of meaning in life resulting in literal void. 

-potential distancing from high art of modernism (Aadam has huge religious revelation and yet he is just a normal guy). 

In Midnight’s Children the protagonist, Salem, is born with special powers that allow him to hear the thoughts and look into the minds of others. He is not the only child who can do this, being one of many “Midnight’s Children,” each with their own unique ability. Among these special children, Saleem has a foil in the form of his twin switches at birth, Shiva the Destroyer. Whereas Saleem’s powers help him bring the Midnight’s Children together in a psychic conference, Saleem’s powers allow him to create war and chaos. As the children grow older, they begin to lose confidence and go their separate ways. This is symbolic of how the idealism of childhoood, here represented by Saleem’s idealism, fades with time and gives way to more jaded thinking. Shiva, who calls Saleem out for his idealism, represents chaos and how all things eventually give way to entropy and disarray. Not only do the children abandon their idealism but, over time, their existence’s dissolve into chaos as they are hunted down and persecuted by The Widow, their powers removed via castration.

The dynamic relationship between Saleem and Shiva, with one acting as a foil for the other, represents the dynamic between the idealism of youth and the indifferent nature of the universe. Saleem wants to maintain the conference and keep the children together, fighting against the nature of people to drift apart and the nature of relationships as meaningless. Shiva sees no point in this as the universe is indifferent and all things must give way to entropy, or ordered chaos. These two ideas eventually intersect in the novel when the children are once again brought together through persecution. 

While not a major aspect of Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie uses a very simple technique to convey time periods within his narratives in both the novel and his essay, “Imaginary Homelands.” In the novel, when Saleem refers to the present day from which he is telling the story he uses present tense to convey this. One such example would be at the beginning of the second chapter, “Mercurochrome,” where Saleem’s wife is attempting to get him to eat: “She attempts to cajole me from my desk: “Eat, na, food is spoiling.” I remain stubbornly hunched over paper.” As soon as Saleem returns to talking about the past, he switches to past tense. It is a small detail, but one that cleverly clues the reader into what time period they are reading about. Rushdie does the exact same thing in “Imaginary Homelands,” framing the essay by describing a scene in his office in present tense before launching into his explanation of his childhood and the inspiration for Midnight’s Children. He could either be doing this as an example of the technique he likes to use or as a nod to the novel, but in either case the reader experiences the same effect. By switching between past and present tense, Rushdie creates a sort of cognitive divide, a subconscious indicator of when an event is taking place and making it easier to organize and interpret an extremely fragmented narrative. 

In “Imaginary Homelands,” Indian author; Salman Rushdie, states that Indian writers (however loosely that term may be applied) “can’t simply use the [English] language in the way the British did; that it needs remaking for our own purposes” (Rushdie 1311). 

What Rushdie means is that, for an Indian author joining the English writing tradition, the burden is placed upon them to find their own voice and a voice that sets them apart from other British authors (assuming they want to be set apart at all). To simply copy someone like Dickens, or Bowen, or Orwell is not enough. Having two cultural traditions to draw from yet not truly belonging to either, like Rushdie, the Indian author must draw from both to create their own identity if they are to truly represent any kind of unique experience within the canon of literature written in the English language. This goes for any writer of migrant decent, whether they he Indian like Rushdie or Polish like Joseph Conrad. Rushdie argues that one way to find your national voice is to build a literary family, authors who you choose to draw inspiration from. For him, this family tree is comprised of the likes of Kafka, Cervantes, and Melville. Each of these authors hail from varying national backgrounds but Rushdie chooses each one to create his own literary tradition. 

It is the burden of the Indian writer (once again, however loosely that term is applied) to find their own cultural identity within English literature. However, they are also at an advantage in that, as far as cultures go, they have two major traditions from which they can pull inspiration, build a tradition, create their own identity. This is, of course, an advantage any writer has. But from a nationalistic perspective, where authors are expected to represent entire demographics based on their own ethnic origin, the concept of using English to do this can be tricky to navigate. As Rushdie suggests, carefully selecting your inspirations as a writer can give you an edge in standing out amid the other writers who utilize the English language. Simply writing about India is not enough. E. M. Forster writes of India and even features an Indian protagonist in A Passage to India, but this does not make him an Indian author. No, to be considered an Indian author it seems that one must go beyond characters and setting, even if those characters and that setting are familiar to the author. One must focus on style, prose, and technique when writing; they must find some way to stand out from the rest of the pack if they are to be seen as true storytellers of their own national experience.