Klara and the Sun - review and analysis

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Title: Klara and the Sun

Author: Kazuo Ishiguro (Nobel Laureate in Literature)

Genre: Literary fiction/science fiction

Pages: 303

My rating: ★★★★★

Other notable works by author: Never Let Me Go; The Remains of the Day; The Buried Giant.

Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2021.

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Confession: this is my first Ishiguro novel. I am glad that it is, too, because I went into it with no expectations prompted by reading his earlier works. And because I have no loyalties towards the author, I can give this book an unbiased review, which I will attempt to do below.

Synopsis:

Klara is an AF (artificial friend) living inside a shop with Manager and other AFs. Her favourite pasttime is watching the outside world from the shop window and, in particular, observing the behaviour of the people passing by. She is waiting for a customer to choose her so that she can fulfill her purpose of loving and caring for her owner.

Told from the unique point of view of Klara herself, as she observes the humans and the world surrounding her, the novel probes the eternal question: what does it mean to love?

My Opinion:

I loved it! I was so captured by the story and by Ishiguro's prose that I ended up reading it in one sitting, over the course of a lazy Sunday. In hindsight, it's probably a book that deserves to be read slowly and thoughtfully instead of devoured in one go, but I just couldn't help myself. in any case, it is a book that deserves to be re-read many times over, so I will get another chance at taking it slow.

This novel - set in a near, dystopian, future - touches upon many interesting themes: artificial intelligence and its' impact on society; genetic modification and its' implications; social class and status; pollution; religion; the list goes on, yet the main focus of the novel remains on the question of love, therefore making it less of a science fiction novel and cementing it in the literary fiction genre.

Many different forms of love are explored: the love of a parent for a child, and vice-versa; the lack of love - loneliness; romantic first love, the kind of idolatric reverence that Klara feels for the sun, which provides her with energy to stay powered, and therefore 'alive'; and the love between an AF and its' companion. Ishiguro questions it all, and because we are looking at the world through Klara's naive, yet keenly observant point of view, we as readers get a fresh take on a topic that has been talked about since the beginning of humanity.

Analysis (SPOILERS):

The novel is rife with symbolism and subtlety, but it begs the question: What does it all mean? The answer: I don't know.

Here I try to break some of them down.

The Sun:

Arguably, one of the protagonists of the novel, the sun naturally represents life and energy, but it is also a stand-in for God.

At least as far back as the ancient Egyptians and Greeks, the sun has been connected with certain gods, such as Horus and Zeus. In Christianity, the sun is also a symbol of the Christ, and some people say that the veneration of Christ actually replaced a previous veneration of the sun.

Klara, despite being one of the only non-human characters in the novel, is also the only one who engages in religious-like behaviour, such as veneration and sacrifice, towards something non-human. Her existence depends on solar power, so it is natural that she is programmed to seek it out, yet it seems incredibly 'human' of her to worship it in the way that she does. She believes that the sun has the ability to save her teenage human companion, Josie, from an untimely death. Josie, is suffering from an unnamed illness, and her death appears to be imminent. Klara takes it upon herself to try and bargain with the sun in exchange for Josie's good health. She makes a promise to destroy the "Cootings Machine" (symbol of pollution), a piece of road-work equipment that creates a cloud of smoke which blots out the sunlight. In doing so, she sacrifices a piece of herself (another biblical allusion), and thus reduces her cognitive capabilities, which in turn makes her an unreliable narrator.

None of the humans in the novel seem to engage in religious activity, despite the proximity of death. Are they living in a post-religious world? Has faith in science surpassed faith in God? Does Klara's faith in the sun allude to something more primal, now lacking in the humans, or is it her naive experience of the world that leads her to mistaken beliefs?

The Bull:

When Klara spots a bull in a field from a car window, she irrationally freaks out. Josie's mom reassures her that the bull is enclosed in the field and poses no danger, but it cements in Klara's mind as a symbol of anger and destruction, belonging to the underworld. Bulls historically can symbolise many things, including: stubbornness, ferocity, aggression, and tyranny; but interestingly enough, the bull horn symbolism is connected to solar energies and life. The bull in the field calls to mind the monstrous Minotaur in his labyrinth, symbol of death and fear of the unknown. Perhaps Klara sees the bull as an omen relating to the portending death of Josie?

Lifted vs. the Unlifted:

If there's one thing that appears ubiquitously in dystopian novels (and in the real world), it's class division. In this novel, people are divided by whether or not they have been genetically engineered - a choice parents make for their children. Josie, and many of her peers, have been, and they are on the path to prestigious universities, and comfortable lives. Josie's best friend and love interest, Rick, hasn't been. As a result, he's bullied and ostracised by the others and, despite being something of a genius, has a very slim chance of entering university. Josie and Rick have something of a Romeo and Juliet-esque romance, torn apart, not by their families, but by society. They fantasise about the future together, but Rick already senses Josie changing and slipping away. Both their mothers have to live with the choices they made for their children. Josie is ill as a result of her lifting and has already lost a sister for the same reason. Rick has been marginalised as a result of his mother's choice. Both mothers try to atone differently as well. Rick's mother chooses loneliness and sacrifice in order to try and get Rick into uni, whereas Klara's mother focuses only on her own gratification: she's building a body that looks exactly like Josie. Should she die, Klara, having learned all of Josie's idiosyncrasies, will inhabit it, 'living' on as her daughter. Here we enter territory about what it means to be human. Is there such a thing that makes each one of us special, inherently human? Or is it just something we want to believe, because the alternative would be too painful to consider.

“There was something very special, but it wasn't inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her.”

Food for thought.

Another division is implied between humans and AFs. Josie's father is living in some kind of anarchic commune after having been 'substituted' from his job. He's wary of Klara, and AFs in general, and he is not the only one. Klara gets accosted outside a theatre by an angry woman blaming AFs for job-stealing among other ills. Towards the end of the novel, it's implied that AFs are no longer in fashion. Klara's old shop no longer exists, and Klara, along with many others, ends up in a dump. Or does she?

The Ending:

Josie is cured and now, a few years later, is off to uni. She and Rick have grown apart. Klara, no longer useful, is placed in the 'Yard', where she is to live out the remainder of her days, contently replaying her memories over and over.

The ending is full of ambiguities and purposeful inconsistencies (because of Klara's unreliable memory) which means it can be interpreted in many different ways. Many people think Josie did in fact die, and that Klara replaced her. I've heard a lot of interesting theories but I won't bore you with sharing mine because there is no right answer. With all art, at a certain point the artwork stops being about the artist and becomes about the beholder. Those of us who read the book participate in that shared experience, but each one of us has also had a personal experience, unique to themselves. Ishiguro offers us a gift: the ending is what we, the reader, choose it to be.

Though touching on many interesting themes, to me this novel was simply a meditation on the different ways there is to love. And if that's not a worthy theme, I don't know what is.