I longed for another chance to visit the welcoming library book club I took part in last November. The December meeting was a Christmas party gathering, and I didn't feel comfortable enough in the group yet for a more intimate setting. Then, the books they selected for January through April were unappealing to me. Finally, on the May docket, I saw a Kazuo Ishiguro novel,
Klara and the Sun. It looked promising because I had enjoyed Ishiguro's
Never Let Me Go. I arrived to find a tiny group this time and an unfamiliar group leader. Based on this solitary return, I'm guessing the previous group dynamics have shifted.
In Klara and the Sun, we meet a highly perceptive AF (Artificial Friend). Josie picks Klara, but must convince her mother to make the purchase. The mother, to seal the deal, asks Klara to imitate Josie's walk. Since Klara gives a satisfactory imitation, Klara comes to their home to befriend and watch over Josie. Over time, we come to understand why the mother is interested in Klara's ability to mimic Josie. Lots of agendas co-exist: Klara has an agenda (secure the sun's favor to heal Josie's illness); Josie has an agenda (finagle a way to spend her life with the ordinary boy next door); the mother has an agenda (safeguard herself from future loss), the boy next door has an agenda (free himself from everyone else's expectations). Even the author has an agenda.
The title stems from Klara's belief in the sun's ability to heal Josie from illness. Klara is solar-powered. After observing a drunk, seemingly dead, rise with the morning's light, she considers the Sun a deity. She infers that by offering the Sun a favor (sabotaging a polluting machine) then the Sun will work its healing powers to save Josie's life. One book club member pointed out, it was clearly implying the Sun as God and the AF as short-sighted Christians who ridiculously believe in God's power to heal. It blatantly mocked this belief.
Of course, this rankles. Belief in God is not a foolish inference. I didn't appreciate the implication that my prayers are like the AF's ill-founded superstition that the Sun/God will intervene. Plenty of instances exist where prayer has significantly improved the lives and health of individuals. But, this is just one topic of discussion among the many this book prompted.
While it was a worthwhile reading investment, it wasn't my "favorite book of all time," as that one book club member declared from her perspective. (Methinks she, too, came at this with an agenda, as evidenced by her vehemence against Christians). Still, it was a veritable minefield of discussion topics. Our world is careening toward incorporating Artificial Intelligence. Is this good or bad? Are we headed for improvements because of their use, or will it create unanticipated problems? While Klara is a devoted robot, who is to say all robots will function in that complimentary and loyal way? What if they go rogue?
What makes a person a person? Is it something inherent in them you can never replace? Is it the love other people hold for that individual? Could we love an artificial embodiment of a lost child? Is that a healthy thing? Or is it healthier to grieve the loss as best we can and remember the happy times spent together? To what extent might I go to replace a beloved and deceased child?
Are we trying to play God? Is there ever a time when our playing God works out well? We even had a tense discussion about assisted suicide. Unhappy with God's determination of the number of our days, do we simply take matters into our own hands and cut short His intentions?
Isn't that the sin problem in a nutshell? We want to be the god of our own lives. As a believer, I cannot endorse any attempt to usurp God's role or authority. Indeed, there were many ideas conjured in this book that gave me pause. Kazuo Ishiguro is a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature. He has earned his billing as an outstanding writer. His stories cause the reader to ruminate. If only more authors had such skill. But the hostility expressed against believers seems indicative of the coming persecution.
As I left the book club meeting, I thought my silence hid my umbrage at this woman's articulation against "religious" people. Then, I looked down and realized I was wearing a t-shirt with "United in the Gospel" emblazoned across the front. No, I'm pretty sure she knew her comments offended me. She didn't care.