As I sit down to write this post, I realize I have only 8 minutes before it is due, and I haven't (yet) finished reading the entire assignment. So I apologize in advance if it's slightly late, or if I step on any toes, say something obvious, etc. I had some car troubles, as I'm sure you'll understand. Anyway:
Something I note, over and over in this novel, is everyone's (not just the narrator's) obsession with memory and remembering, which goes hand-in-hand, it seems, with a collective disregard for the future; it isn't so much that characters are afraid to contemplate their futures, but rather, that they don't even care. This might only be relevant to the somewhat amusing fact that everyone knows they've got to "unzip" their vital organs in the future (which strikes me as fundamentally inefficient), but I think there might be more to it. The narrator links memory and sex/babies in several instances. For example, on pg 70: "So that's where I used to go, in the day when no one else was likely to be about, to play my song over and over;" and more explicitly on pg 99: "There'd be a chant of: 'Rewind! Rewind' until someone got the remote and we'd see the portion again, sometimes three, four times. But I could hardly, by myself, start shouting for rewinds just to see sex scenes again." I can't help but connect this need for repetition with a general impulse at Hailsham to remember/recreate/recount, even. It is almost as if, since the children "know" they won't be able to reproduce in the biological sense, they seek out every conceivable replacement as a means to assuage their instinctual drive for preservation. Enter Freud, once more, once more.