This book has kept coming back to me weeks after I finished reading it, and for that it deserves further exposition.

I have come to appreciate how masterfully Ishiguro sets up the novel against such a bleak backdrop of irrelevance.

Ultimately, we learn that the lives of the characters themselves are essentially irrelevant. They have been born from nothing, they are destined to be harvested for their organs, and they cannot reproduce and leave any part of themselves behind — save their repurposed internals. And yet despite this, the characters face their lives head-on, despite the seemingly bleak outlook.

I think this novel is an interesting exploration of our ability to adapt to our circumstances, but also the extents of our self-deception.