克拉拉与太阳

Continuing to work my way through Ishiguro's bibliography in a completely arbitrary order. This touches on a lot of similar themes as Never Let Me Go - systemic caretaking, human costs of technology, being beholden to a world you barely understand - but with less clarity and emotional sophistication than made that book so exceptional.

It's quite interesting to see how in the 15 or so years, Ishiguro is now working through new concerns around AI and climate change as opposed to more allegorical technology. I think this one may end up aging better than I feel about it today, but I was left feeling like it never quite arrived at the ideas it was toying with. This is partially by design as it's told effectively from the perspective of a child, but even taken in perspective with the premise it's quite detached. In particular wish there was a bit more of an idea what this near future society is like. We hear about it in incongruous whispers but it ends up feeling like hypotheticals than anything coherent with the rest of the text.

An enjoyable read despite its frustrating inconclusions. Shockingly breezy for an Ishiguro book, I tore through this much faster than anticipated which may also speak to the reservations above.

When he'd posted his question - about children really understanding what it meant to love - I believe he was already sure of the answer and was simply raising the question for my benefit.

Meh?

I am torn on how to review this book. On one hand it was casually engaging and probably had some deep hidden meaning, but on the other it was a bit dull.

I can enjoy a slow burn or character story, but I need a reward for my patience. In those situations I can fall into a well described and immersive world, or have the author deliver such amazing prose that the most mundane becomes interesting (Guy Gavriel Kay is a master at writing and making the ordinary become a thrill). Lacking that little extra the story failed to hook me and bordered on tedium.

Ishiguro subscribes to the "show don't tell" method of crafting a story but there is so much withheld that it was frustrating. I can appreciate when authors decide not to spend chapters explaining the history and origins of the world but the alternative is that what little is revealed should mean something. Without some context or something to anchor the story then casual reference to genetically modifying kids or AI dolls used as companion don't belong. Remove the science fiction elements and this could be a story about two isolated kids who become friends and grow up.

Leave our Klara be. Let her have her slow fade.

I enjoyed elements of the book, particularly the first "Part" with Klara's observations within the store. The story became bogged down in the narrative with very little progress and my interest began to fizzle.

Around the 60% mark little reveals began to form and the focus of the story became clear, but it continued to take the same slow and deliberate pace to the end. I was expecting an "a ha" moment or some insight into relationships or warning about our future, but there was none of that.

In the end Klara and the Sun isn't an entirely unique concept and suffered from not having any reason for it to stand out amongst the others of this ilk.

3.5 stars. Spoilers ahead.

I went into this book completely and utterly blind. All I knew about this book was that it was one of the most borrowed books of 2021 of a library I visit. No further details about anything regarding what this book was about, not the vaguest clue.

Not knowing what this book was about and thus, having almost no expectations is most likely why I came to enjoy it. The reviews I have come across have either been preaching this books greatness or talking of it as if were the most boring book in existence.

I must agree, it is rather ~slow~ in terms of progression—but it is quite literally written from the perspective of a robot, an AF if you will. Though the writing isn't a masterpiece per se, it does arise some intriguing questions.

Klara, the AF that finds herself accompanying Josie, a teenager that is sickness-ridden as a result of "genetic lifting" (another dystopian element of this novel, aside from the whole "artificial friend" ordeal itself). As Josie's condition worsens, her mother sets out to have her portrait done by a man called Mr. Capaldi; however, this portrait is not any standard portrait at all and instead is a replacement shell of a sculpture of which is intended for Klara to inhabit if and when Josie passes.

As for the "and the sun" part of all this, Klara seeks assistance from the sun, as she believes in the sun having restorative powers (complementary belief to AFs requirement of the sun for energy/functioning).

All this, an overall simplification of the story, not too complex or elaborate of a story. The real thing this story actually provides is questioning the meaning of identity.
It gives an insight on human behaviour from an outside perspective whilst putting emphasis on whether any of us are truly unique?

The general themes of this play into how we deal with bereavement, grief, and loneliness. Most of the characters, Chrissie, Rick, Vance, Josie, and Klara are known to have had some struggle with being alone. Chrissie (the mother) tries to cope by making plans to replace her daughter, Vance confronts Helen on the years he spent alone because of her, Josie and Rick quarrel consistently in fear of a future without each other and away from their "plan," and Klara—Klara was willing to give up her own identity and her own parts, all for the sake of keeping her companionship and place within the family.

I feel there's more to write in regards to the most crucial element of this book: identity—but it is a subjective matter and hence I will be leaving it out of my review.

3.5/5 could have been written better but still proved to be an interesting read.

My second Ishiguro in a row — why did I wait so long to discover him?? — and it seems almost impossible to talk about his books without going into spoilers. It seems safe to lay out the major themes I note in his writing: classism, empathy, loneliness. Kindness and cruelty. Both books so far have been first-person reminiscence from a quiet but watchful servant-class entity nearing the end of their life, with heavy emphasis on the unreliability of memory and on how, despite our best intentions, our understanding of the world and of others is so incomplete. Both are masterpieces of exposition, with puzzle pieces being hinted at, then appearing in due course, then finally fitting in. Both have been sublime, deeply thoughtful.

I hate using the spoiler tag because of how stupid the Goodreads phone app is with them. But although most of my Goodreads writing is for my loved ones, in part it is also for me — I, too, am reminiscing near the end of life — and it would be unfair to stop without saying more. So I really need to say more. Like: the genetic-enhancement aspect. I still can’t say whether this is a major plot point or a minor one. I mean, it is central to the story, and so many of the character dynamics hinge on it; and it is a huge deal, one that ever-so-class-conscious Ishiguro wants us to ponder, but it feels incidental. Is he trying to get the reader to ask, hey waitaminit, why isn’t this getting more attention? Is he, goddammit, making the reader actually think about privilege, and underprivilege, and the rights of those who have no voice in what is done to them? I felt like this deserved a lot more air time than Ishiguro gave it, so I‘m obligated to stew about it on my own.

And, empathy. Where did Klara’s observation and empathy come from? And, frightening to contemplate, how much connection is there between empathy and animism? Can we ever really understand others, or do we only think we do? Obviously all we can ever see is our projection of other minds, not their true selves, but sometimes we hit and sometimes we miss. Can we really know which is when? Like, Klara tends to imbue everyone’s actions with kindness... but that says much more about Klara than about the characters, especially over time as we wonder more about her reliability as narrator. Can empathy and kindness and caring skew how we view the world? (Yes, duh). Can they make us more susceptible to being abused? (Almost certainly). Then the big one: what makes for a better life? Who “wins”: those in the rat race, or those who quietly make their peace with their situation?

And, the two Ishiguro books I’ve read feature narrators who are disposable: created to serve the needs of others, discarded when their utility is complete. Both of them exquisitely aware of this condition, neither of them bitter or resentful. This point of view is at times jarring, but damn, it’s effective. It helped me relate to Klara and to think in ways I might not have.

Dislikes: I found the Helen-Vance thing improbable, even distasteful. It was like a different writer had briefly taken over. WTF was that about? The portrait subplot, I think I see where he was going with it (projection, seeing what we want to see in others, wishful thinking), but it fell flat for me. And Josie’s Miracle Recovery, well, that was disappointing. Too neat. Looking back at that list they seem enough to drop a star, but no: five stars in GR-land means “it was amazing!”, and it was, for the questions it raises and for a truly wonderful experience of seeing and feeling through Ishiguro’s mind.

 Not much to see here, which surprised the hell out of me considering [a:Kazuo Ishiguro|4280|Kazuo Ishiguro|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1424906625p2/4280.jpg]'s reputation and how well [b:Klara and the Sun|54120408|Klara and the Sun|Kazuo Ishiguro|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1603206535l/54120408.SY75.jpg|84460796] was received by critics, most of whom I doubt have read much speculative fiction.
 It's a paste up of a variety of things, some decades old, like A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, the 2001 Steven Spielberg film that was based on a 1967 short story by Brian Aldiss; and, heavily, Caprica, the 2010 prequel to the 2004 re-imagining of Battlestar Galactica.
 Of some interest is the notion of artificial life forms that are constructed to grow via algorithms instead of only binary programing, so they form a degree of their own culture, but this too is not a new idea. Klara and the Sun so often read like young adult fiction that I wondered why it wasn't marketed as such. It is so chaste—there's nary a kiss—that if you got rid of the three or four naughty words it'd be Christian youth group friendly.
 There are a few semi-dystopian political references but none are pursued. The least interesting parts are when Ishiguro goes on at length to describe how the narrator, an artificial life form named Klara, sees things in segmented ways. You get it the first time, but he goes on and on about it throughout the book.
 The end reminded me a little of the end of his earlier Remains of the Day, but only enough to make me remember how much I liked that book when it came out.
 Side note: An esteemed author who doesn't know the difference between farther and further?

  The kitchen was especially difficult to navigate because so many of its elements would change their relationships to one another moment by moment. I now appreciated how in the store—surely out of consideration for us—Manager had carefully kept all the items, even smaller ones like the bracelets of the silver earrings box, in their correct places. Throughout Josie's house, however, and in the kitchen in particular, Melania Housekeeper would constantly move items around, obliging me to start afresh in my learning. One morning, for instance, Melania Housekeeper altered the position of her food blender four times within as many minutes. But once I'd established the importance of the Island, things became much easier.