A letter to Kazuo Ishiguro · Never Let Me Go
What We Were Made For
On a childhood that is also a countdown, and the unbearable tenderness of characters who never quite let themselves know what they are.
Working draft — title, framing, and cover are in place; S.E. will write the essay.
Ishiguro tells you the worst of it almost in passing, and trusts you to keep loving these children anyway. The horror is not the fate; it is the ordinariness of growing up inside it.
This is a placeholder essay so the page reads like the real thing — the novel, the cover, and the shape of the argument are here; S.E. will write the words that go in this space.
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