ventanamist
I no longer go wrinkly
- Joined
- May 18, 2009
- Messages
- 94
I have just read this book and I am really, really annoyed.
To start with I got as much pleasure from reading this as I did his other books: 'The Remains of the Day' found it's way into my hands at a bored moment, so I started reading. It was wonderful - a new reading experience. Nothing much happened yet I was enthralled. His stories tend to be about fairly ordinary people on the periphery of great events. The writing style is simple, intimate and in the first person. But there is a vast sub text that carries on revealing itself long after you finish the story.
Why am I annoyed then? It's because in Never Let Me Go he encroaches on SFF territory, and he does it so sloppily that it took my breath away.
Why do some of these great mainstream authors think they can do a bit of SFF without reference to or respect for the great body of work that already exists? I suppose they think it's just another populist genre deserving of a certain contempt.
I am doubly annoyed because it was such a lovely poignant, intriguing story that had hold of me right up to the annoying bit.
Am I being unfair?
Are there any other mainstream authors who have done this? (I seem to remember the same annoyance with Herman Hesse's 'The Glass Bead Game'.)
To start with I got as much pleasure from reading this as I did his other books: 'The Remains of the Day' found it's way into my hands at a bored moment, so I started reading. It was wonderful - a new reading experience. Nothing much happened yet I was enthralled. His stories tend to be about fairly ordinary people on the periphery of great events. The writing style is simple, intimate and in the first person. But there is a vast sub text that carries on revealing itself long after you finish the story.
Why am I annoyed then? It's because in Never Let Me Go he encroaches on SFF territory, and he does it so sloppily that it took my breath away.
Why do some of these great mainstream authors think they can do a bit of SFF without reference to or respect for the great body of work that already exists? I suppose they think it's just another populist genre deserving of a certain contempt.
I am doubly annoyed because it was such a lovely poignant, intriguing story that had hold of me right up to the annoying bit.
Am I being unfair?
Are there any other mainstream authors who have done this? (I seem to remember the same annoyance with Herman Hesse's 'The Glass Bead Game'.)