Never Let Me Go

• These are quiet books. If one wished to describe why the novels of English writer Kazuo Ishiguro unfold such a bewitching effect, one might say: there is a sound of silence. From the very first lines this tone is struck, like the opening of a cello sonata, an urgent descent into composed melancholy.

• Through words steeped in nostalgia, we come to understand the protagonists. The quick-tempered Ruth, with her desperate need to fit in and her manipulations tinged with kindness at times; Tommy the dreamer, never quite in his element; and Kathy, so sensitive and compliant. Even Madame ultimately seems human to us. Deep down, they resemble normal children, and later normal adults.

• When you close the book, a quite vertiginous feeling grips you before the sheer scale of themes that Ishiguro seemingly only touches upon. The feeling of having undergone an indoctrination just like the heroine's, and of suddenly awakening to reality in those final 20 lines.

• As always, the author's writing is subtle, filled with great finesse, precision, and restraint. Ishiguro, as is his habit, avoids telling us things directly. Everything is suggested, sometimes forcefully, which only sharpens the impressions emanating from this novel. The subject is deftly handled in any case. The psychological insight into the characters is truly a triumph. They are endearing, you live alongside them, and step by step you discover their terrible fate.

• It is a book that leaves a lasting mark; subtly, the author makes us empathize with the characters' feelings: tenderness, loneliness, despair... It moves you deeply and prompts reflection on human behavior.

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