I just finished reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro and while the novel is beautifully written, the dark overtones of a contemporary England setting sent chills down my spine. I’m glad that Jyg bought me the book because I would never had heard of it otherwise.
The book deals heavily with childhood fantasy – those daydreams where you once imagined yourself as a movie star, someone famous, a mother, even love, etc. – gone awry. Imagine living in a world where the people outside your surroundings are allowed to grow up to be whatever they want to be and you’re future is set for you. Imagine knowing that you’re different from everyone else and are hated for that. That others like you outside the gates of your private school are abused and mistreated and you’re given the lap of luxury. Imagine that your only purpose in life is to grow up, stay fit and healthy and give up you life in order for others to live. That is the life of the clones in Never Let Me Go, a narrative told through the eyes of Kathy H., a carer going on her twelfth year.
The clones are split up between carers and donors. It is up to the carers to keep the donors morale up as they are healing. But carers, when the time is right, are called for donations in the end. The clones are created in order to cure the maladies once thought as incurable. Cancer, in this dark new world, has a cure. That is the sole purpose of these “creatures.”
After realizing the purpose of the clones – and that they were clones – questions started leaking into my head and I’m sure it was Ishiguro’s intent. Because as students, the clones are taught art mainly, it is left the door open – and the question is asked late in the book – to ask, “Do clones have souls?” I know I’m not one to talk about souls, but the very fact that they are able to create without mimicing is what left that door open in a world where a god does reign over. Because some may not believe that humans have souls – I hold my doubts – then let me ask this: Because clones are copies of other people, do they have minds of their own? Each clone has a possible in the world – meaning a person they were modeled after. What are the chances that their future aspirations (even though they are not allowed a regular future) are the same as those their possibles had, or have? Not to mention the mannerisms and personality, are these their own or are they embedded in the cloned DNA?
On a more ethical question, seeing that the clones were raised as children into adulthood, only to “complete” during their 30s, you must ask if it’s ethical to harvest the clones for organs and the like? The sole purpose of their existence is to give up their lives so that others may live. However, it seems like a dark world to create a life in order to kill it. And this all comes back to the soul/mind questions: If these clones lack souls/minds, then one can say it is perfectly find to harvest them for parts so that others can live as they are no different than a lab rat who is given an ear to grow on its back. However, the fact that they have artistic talent, holding with traditional thought that one must have a soul to create art, proves that they do not lack this. The fact that they can feel love – or at least grasp the abstract concept of love and emotion – proves they have a mind. I cannot be certain that they have either, because their lessons are to model humans as closely as possible so that they are not pointed out in public places as they are feared by the majority of people.
If they have minds of their own, then the answer to the next question is yes. If they don’t, then there is no logic in the question, which is: Can clones logically believe in a higher power? Because they know how they came into existence was by human will rather than a divine power, it is hard to grasp if a clone can believe in a god. I won’t get too much into this question, so I’ll leave it at that.
Are clones seen as demons? Most Christians are already on a witch hunt to prove that homosexuals are sinful and spawns of hell, but at least homosexuals were born in a natural way even though their sex lives aren’t viewed as such. Because they were created, not born, into this world by science that is not natural biology, I have to assume that clones will be seen as something other than human. It’s not far from me to think that clones would be seen in a negative light by believers (well, most believers) yet be accepted as perfect donors because we know how ignorant some might be.
Anyway, these were the questions that I came up with reading the book. There might be more, but I’m sure these cover all of the fields.
I hate being sick. My throat feels like it’s closing up. I have a poetry reading this Saturday so it’s not a good thing that I’m beginning to feel ill. There is no way that I’m gonna cancel this reading. However, if I have a small turn out, I may just pass the torch over to someone else to host these things. I hate hearing myself talk.
Last night was the first poetry reading hosted by yours truly and El Senor. It was the inaugural reading held at Cuppy’s Coffee. We are now known, for the meantime, as The Nameless Poetry Group and we will later on have a name. A friend and member suggested The Gypsie Rose Poetry Group, which I don’t have a problem with, but El Senor showed favor to both The Nameless and this new suggestion.
In the audience this time around was Lady Mariposa, Bel, Jyg, Richie and his family, Ronnie and a two listeners. A small group, I’ll admit, but sadly not all those who I had invited turned out. Hopefully next month, as I announced I would like to this as a monthly reading to get the cobwebs out. I did suggest we’d do an “Other People’s Poetry” reading, but call it “I wish I wrote that poem” night. The idea came to me when I was listening to Howl by Allen Ginsberg on night (I had about 25 minutes to kill) and that it wouln’t be such a bad idea if we did something like that. Lady Mariposa, El Senor and Ronnie all agreed. I said that the poem Howl will be the main feature having four different readers (possibly more) taking a part. I want to do “Footnote to Howl” as well, but that will most likely be read by me and only me (it’s short).
But the night went well. I’m not sure if the next one will be hosted at Cuppy’s as well, or if we’ll continue travel along the venues given to us. McAllen? Art Expressions? These will be taken into consideration, but for the meanwhile, I’m going to take Dr. Anne Estevis’s advice and suggestion of keeping it in Edinburg.
Go back to sleep forever more
Far from your fools and lock the door
They’re all around and they’ll make sure
You don’t have to see
What I turned out to be
no one can help you
There isn’t a single thing that needs to be said. There are many. There is so much going through my mind that I feel that I have let it all slip through my fingers. And this is going to kill me in the end. Friendships. Responsibilities. Family.
My mother’s sick. It’s not life threatening, but the procedure is especially because she’s diabetic. If I believed in a god this would be a time for me to pray. But it’s this that makes me doubt the existence of a supreme being. Some prayers are answered while others are ignored. Why do you want to believe in an almighty that picks favorites? Not an attack, just a simple question.
Tonight’s a reading. I’ll be there with El, Bel, Jyg, Lady Mariposa and whoever shows up. I’m not sure if the person who returns home is going to be me.
The Art District is what they call the location in McAllen, TX where the staggering poets of the Nueva Onda are seeking shelter. And what a home we have found within the walls of Art Expressions. Our second week there, El Senor and I feel at home. However, Dr. Anne Estevis suggests we stick to Edinburg when it comes to our events. Fair enough, but I’m all over the opportunity at hosting something at Art Expressions.
At this reading, however, I did something I never do. I read straight from my journal as an introduction to my pieces that I read, which were “Evidence” and “Cuidandote.” The pieces were written last year for my “chapbook” which Emmy had us turn in at the end of the year. They’re probably the best pieces I have which is why lately I’ve been reading nothing but those found within the chapbook.
A few musicians showed up and all was great. I felt like such a whore because I came home with phone numbers and other mediums of contact. Most of which were from men, so that makes me a gay whore, right?
Lady Mariposa convinced me to join her at Art Expressions last night for the poetry reading. While I had my doubts because this is the same person who brought us the ever failing Art Awakenings, I conceded and decided to support my friends and read a few of the things I’ve been working on since last semester. And as always, my crew – and I love saying that by the way – consisted of Jyg and El Senor (because we like these sort of things and we love these people so much).
Before the show started, El said that he has ten days off and would love to go road tripping again with the both of us. Apparently, we make a great team. I hinted towards the beach because I feel the sounds of waves would calm me. And as with all my complications going on in my head, I think another trip to the beach will sooth my aching skull.
I read a few things, plus the not-so-finished and far-from-being-ready rough rough draft of my America essay (a sample of which was posted a few days ago). I called it my divorced letter to my country. Whether or not people liked it is beyond me. I just wanted to read something about the good ol’ US of A before the Fourth – it’s just my way of giving this country that has loved me so much a nice middle finger while subliminally shouting UP YOURS, ASSHOLE!
Say your name.
Try to speak as clearly as you can.
You know everything gets written down.
Nod your head.
Just in case they could be watching.
With their shiny satellite.
And this is just a piece of what I’ve been working on for sometime now and hope that at least a readable rough draft will be done by Tuesday, otherwise I’m fucked:
Let this poem anger you. Let it piss you off to the point you would rather me be dead than to write it. Let a bomb like god drop down upon us and wipe the slate clean. America, there is a song in my head. A song, America, that tiny children are taught:
My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
[tabbed] Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died
Land of the pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountain side
[tabbed] Let freedom ring.
Let freedom ring, America.
I’m still working on it and for those of you who don’t remember my 2006 Ginsberg-esque poems, “America,” and “Complete & Utter Bullshit,” then you might not understand what I hope to achieve with this piece, which is more of a lyrical essay (or at least will be sooner or later) than an actual poem. I’m doing something different with this piece, however. I’m adding in quotes from other popular pieces including Emma Lazarus’ “The New Colossus:”
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearing to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
And a quote from the Nine Inch Nails song, “Zero Sum:”
Shame on us doom from the start, may god have mercy on our dirty little hearts.
I’m crafting what I have already from the two aforementioned poems and adding in a few theatrical stunts – two that I’m thinking of is burning a small flag and ripping out pages from the Bible and mimic wiping my ass with the pages. I will do my very best to rile the listeners with this piece and hope to only perform it once and never have to think of it again.
Philosopher and I went to the IMASTorture exhibit. We weren’t allowed to take pictures, so there’s no evidence of our trip. The book of the tour cost $40 and the tour itself was two dollars short of that (for the both of us). I had told El Senor yesterday that considering it was IMAS, I’m sure if we gave them drugs, they’d let us take pictures. I suppose gay sex would have been better, but I wasn’t that desperate for pictures.
However, there was a few things not presented in the torture exhibit that I really wish were there. One of them was the Batman teaser of Two-Face. Fucking brutal.
rating: 5 of 5 stars There probably isn't anything I can say about this book that hasn't been said already. With that said, read it if you haven't already.
