Completed May 2021
KLARA AND
THE SUN
Klara and the Sun was an anxious read. I felt like I never quite settled into the story, as I was conscious of all the questions that lingered on the periphery – and by the time I'd managed to piece together some answers, new mysteries emerged to take their place.
This ambiguity wasn't surprising, but it was interesting in its contrast to the protagonist. Klara wasn't the first AI narrator I've read, but her voice was unique in its clarity. I loved reading from the perspective of something just on the edge of what we recognise as human, who seemed totally familiar at times and otherworldly at others. Her naivety in particular was disconcerting, as she arrived at conclusions with an almost childlike logic, before making decisions which felt impulsive (hard to believe from something lacking a pulse).
She felt like the ultimate unreliable narrator – not intentionally suppressing information but rather lacking the capacity to relate to the reader in the way we typically take for granted. This added to the feeling of uncertainty and mystery, as her commentary skims along the surface without ever deep diving into the nuances of each scenario she finds herself enveloped in. This led to many an emotional scene portrayed in an eerily deadpan tone.
The setting was quite creepy in a way, too. We spend the majority of the novel surrounded by an almost barren landscape – fields populated only by another small house and a dilapidated barn. Even the titular Sun couldn't warm things up. Despite Klara's insistence on its benevolent power, to me all its harsh light achieved was heightening the sense of stark exposure.
As the novel progresses and light is shed, the novel only becomes darker. With every development, further suspicions are stirred, and the narrative strays into some seriously tricky territory. This was for me when the story was at its most powerful – inviting the reader to imagine a world which challenges some of our usually most sacred beliefs.
When things finally did brighten up, to me it still felt slightly empty. I felt myself straining for some conclusions, or at least some deeper explorations into these heartbreaking dilemmas. But just in the way Klara glazes over her decisions, the narrative hovered on the edges. Everything settles into place without the need for emotional graft.
This did feel unsatisfying at the time, but now I've had time to reflect I feel like I understand the intended takeaway more. This was not the quiet rollercoaster of the two Ishiguro novels I've previously read, but instead a cautious observation, from a distance. From the artificial narrator, to ambiguous context, to complete lack of emotional depth – everything combined into a crescendo of unnerving premonition. And even though I left this novel with a list of questions as long as my arm, I get the sense that this feeling will stick with me for a while.
“But however hard I tried, I believe now there would have remained something beyond my reach.”