If there was one word to describe this book it would be "creepy". It reminded me of Ian McEwen's superior "Nutshell" that was narrated by an unborn child. Here it is an AF (Artificial Friend) who tells us her story. (Why did I constantly think it was a male robot?) However, it is Ishiguro's prose that is always so good. Klara speaks with a kind of formal intelligence. "I had no time to make detailed observations of the car's interior because I became aware that the uncomfortable atmosphere had returned". Fortunately, there is lots of human dialogue to offset this feeling of disorientation.
Klara is not a perfect AF. Her vision and interpretation of events is somewhat off key. We are given isolated hints as young Rick tells her "I have to say from up there, you looked like one of those flies that buzz around blindly on the window pane". I was going to say ... when machines go wrong...., but Klara is never anything but kind and well meaning.
I loved the first half of this book so I was so disappointed with the conclusion. The earlier passages are poignant and funny. Our narrator, Martha can be irritating, but nothing like her disintegration later. And why does the "heroine" have to be clever and beautiful, as if that excuses her behavior. So a story about a mental disorder is at first hidden by some comic and intelligent writing.
There are occasional blunders: "how to eat an apple in absolute silence - by cutting it into 16th's and holding each piece in the mouth until it dissolves". That would take some time and the later pieces would be all brown and horrible. I preferred the witticisms from the elderly Peregrine such as "The Germans have a word for heartbreak, Martha. Liebeskummer. Isn't it awful".
But the book is ruined by Martha's eventual diagnosis as ..... -. Yes, -. All the way through the later stages I was waiting to be told what - meant. But no. I guess I'm in the majority who do not know the various mental challenges, and I guess wrong twice. Did the author not know that a cursory glance at the internet would spell out the answer. I was wrong. And then at the end it seemed as if it left Martha completely? What a shame.
Despite not loving the first part about 19th century balloonists and photography (the book has a theme of putting two things together), it was the note that exactly a hundred years after the surviving photos of balloons from 1868, that the Apollo 8 mission saw the first "earthrise" from the far side of the moon. The note from William Anders said it all. There was a superb short piece about Sarah Bernhardt, and later a terrific extended imaginary relationship she had with balloonist Fred Burnaby.
But this was a book with just too many facts, although there is some trademark philosophical stuff from the author. The third and last part I glossed over, a dissertation about grief, and the writer's loss of his great love, written in all it's mind numbing desperation. I guess I'm too old for that sort of stuff.
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