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Incident at Hawk’s Hill by Allan W. Eckert

Jan14

Benjamin MacDonald is the six year old younger son of William and Esther MacDonald. The year is 1870, and the place is somewhere to the north of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. In this prairie land the MacDonald family own a farm, and Ben, a child who in today’s parlance would certainly be called “neurodivergent”, has lived his life so far on that farm, exploring those prairie lands. In 1870, folks just say that Ben is “dreadful queer,” “some sort of monster or throwback, an animal-boy.” Ben seldom speaks to people even in his own family, and he has a strange attraction to and affinity for all sorts of animals–farm animals, wildlife, even birds and insects. He spends most of his days following, observing, and mimicking the creatures he finds on the farm and out on the prairie. And the animals seem to respond to Ben and accept his overtures of friendship, even kinship.

So, this Newbery Honor book from 1972 is a nature story with lots of close description of wild creatures and how they live. Although the Newbery Award and Newbery Honor are intended to be awards for children’s literature, Incident at Hawk’s Hill was originally published as an adult novel. Many older children would still appreciate the book. However, sensitive readers should be warned that the Nature pictured is indeed “red in tooth and claw.” Eckert doesn’t shy away from describing–in detail– predators hunting and eating their prey, animals fighting and and defending their young, and eventually the deaths of some of those predators at the hands of men.

The author prefaces his story with this note, “The story which follows is a slightly fictionalized version of an incident which actually occurred at the time and place noted.” An historical magazine, Manitoba Pageant, in 1960 published an article entitled “The Boy Who Lived in a Badger Hole”. The article tells about an 1873 reported incident of a lost boy, found after ten days living in a badger hole. Eckert may have based his Ben’s story on this magazine report. In the book, one day in June, Ben becomes lost on the prairie, and the story becomes a tale of his survival. It’s a somewhat grisly and nearly unbelievable survival story as a wild badger befriends Ben and shares its den and its food with him, and ultimately Ben almost forgets his humanity as he becomes absorbed in badger life.

The ending is a bit disturbing, too, with a fight between two men, almost to the death. If violent death and threats of death, for both animals and people, are too much for you or your child reader, this book is not for you.

Nonetheless, I found this 1972 Newbery Honor book to be fascinating thought-provoking, and quite well written. The language is descriptive and evocative of a prairie world, almost a fantasy world. In fact, at one point in the story, the storyteller writes about Ben’s getting lost, “It was certainly well past midafternoon now but still nothing looked at all familiar to him and he had the momentary panicky feeling that somehow, like the little girl in the story his mother had read to him, he had stepped into another world.” (Alice in Wonderland, published in 1865?)

The cover blurb calls Incident at Hawk’s Hill “a poignant story of human courage and change, a simple fable rich with wonder.” I’m not so sure about the “fable” part, but the story is rich with wonder. Several characters call Ben’s survival a miracle and attribute it to God’s intervention. I like the way the story points, without preaching, toward tolerance and understanding for people whose engagement with the world does not fit inside the “normal” template. Those readers with an interest in nature, wildlife, and natural history will also find the descriptions of the habits and ways of various animals in the story to be quite engaging and informative.

The Eustace Diamonds by Anthony Trollope

Oct21

This three-volume, more than 700 page novel is one of the best of Trollope’s works that I have read so far. Thankfully, I have many more Trollope novels yet to read, since he wrote and published over fifty. I think I’ve read about ten. And I have yet to finish The Palliser novels, which series includes The Eustace Diamonds.

The Eustace Diamonds, especially the character of Lizzie Greystock Eustace, owes something to Thackeray’s Vanity Fair and to Becky Sharp. Lizzie is Becky Sharp, with money to spare and not quite as much sharp intelligence. The money comes from Lizzie’s conveniently deceased first husband, and her lack of foresight and basic intellectual capacity shows itself as the story progresses after the death of her husband, Sir Florian Eustace. Lizzie certainly has beauty and charm, but she gets herself into a tangled mess over the Eustace family diamonds, a mess that Becky Sharp could surely have avoided had she been blessed with as much money and station as Lizzie.

According to the introduction to my edition of The Eustace Diamonds, Trollope’s novel was also influenced by Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone. Both books are named for their MacGuffin, a jewel or set of jewels, and the jewels become a symbol of the ridiculous materialism and greed that drive most of the characters in the book. The very expensive Eustace diamonds, worth more than 10,000 pounds, are hidden, displayed, argued over, stolen, hidden again and stolen again in the course of this story, but now that I’ve finished the book I can hardly remember what actually happened to them in the end.

What I do remember is what happens to Lizzie and to her various friends, enemies, and suitors. I suppose that’s what is meant by a “character-driven novel.” I didn’t like Lizzie, and most of the other characters in the book were not sympathetic either, but I did find them to be very intriguing. What happens when a community of people get themselves into a web of lies and deceit and play-acting and and gossip and broken promises and mercenary motives and actions? Well, The Eustace Diamonds happens.

I’m surprised that more people haven’t mined Trollope for dramatic purposes. There are TV mini-series of Doctor Thorne and The Way We Live Now, as well as one called The Pallisers and another called The Barchester Chronicles. I suppose the latter two try to smush all of the books in those series of half a dozen novels into one TV mini-series? Methinks it would take a lot of smushing and crushing.

Anyway, I recommend The Eustace Diamonds as a book, either along with the series of Palliser novels or as a stand alone read. Unfortunately, I found a bit of myself in Lizzie, and I was motivated to take that part of myself that tries to justify and cover up my sins and subject it to a bit of repentance. You may not find a moral reckoning for yourself in The Eustace Diamonds, but I do believe you will be entertained and reminded of some home truths, such as “The love of money is the root of all sorts of evil,” or perhaps, “What a tangled web we weave/ When first we practice to deceive.“

Time and Time Again by James Hilton

Oct1

James Hilton was the author of the best-selling novels Lost Horizon, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, and Random Harvest. These three were his 1930’s pre-WW2 novels and his most successful. Time and Time Again was published in 1953 when Hilton was 52 years old, and it was his final published novel. The story takes place in the time in which it was published, the early 1950’s, and its protagonist, Charles Anderson, is 52 years old, looking back on his life and diplomatic career with a very British outlook that combines measured judgment, some regret, and overall contentment.

It would seem that Charles Anderson is James Hilton to some extent, but the differences are as obvious as the similarities. James Hilton was married and divorced twice and childless. Charles Anderson has a college romance with a lower class Cockney office worker, and later marries and has a son. If the book has a theme or a set of ideas, it’s about those two kinds of relationships: upper middle class and lower class, and fathers and sons. Even though Hilton moved to California, became a screenwriter in Hollywood and an American citizen, the concerns in Time and Time Again are very British.

Anderson is never very sure of his place in society, in the diplomatic corps, and even in his own family. The entire story is told from Charles’ perspective, so we’re never entirely sure whether his insights and evaluations are completely accurate. In fact, Charles, although he knows his own worth and intelligence, is never sure whether his view of life, his own life in particular, is accurate or not, which ends up making him a very endearing character.

I tried to think, while I was reading, of other writers that this book reminded me of. The only one that came to mind is Nevil Shute, who is also very British, with books set in the 1940’s and 50’s. Hilton’s novel has the same sort of gentle, unhurried exploration of British society and British mores and the changes that manifested themselves in the first half of the twentieth century that Shute writes about. Someone wrote that Hilton gives readers an idealistic, unrealistic picture of Britain in his books, and maybe he does in other books. However, Time and Time Again seems realistic in its portrayal of an ordinary, average upper middle class man and how he comes to terms with his own capacities and limitations.

It’s not an exciting read, more contemplative and somewhat thought-provoking. Like the man Charles Anderson, it’s a modest story about a modest Englishman and his interaction with the events and changing culture of the first half of the twentieth century.

The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Beth Brower

Apr18

Brower, Beth. The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Volumes 1-4. Rysdon Press, 2019-2021.

I saw these books recommended here and there on the internet, and the synopses and reviews sounded interesting, so I decided to try the first volume of The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion. (I assume that “unselected” means “unedited”.) Miss Lion’s journal in its first volume was a brief read, only 107 pages, but it was indeed enticing enough to make me immediately order a copy of Volume 2. Which led to Volumes 3 and 4, and I am hooked.

In Volume 1 we meet Miss Emma M. Lion as she arrives at Lapis Lazuli House in the neighborhood of St. Crispian’s, London on March 5, 1883. Miss Lion’s journal entries are filled with intriguing and mysterious references to various incidents and persons such as “The Great Burning of 1882” and “The Incident which led to The Scar” and “the monkey’s head Maxwell sent me” and “the Roman centurion (ghost) at Jacob’s Well” and more. Some of these are explained as one reads on; others are left to the imagination and most probably to later volumes. This first volume of the journals really just introduces Emma Lion and a cast of characters who include a nefarious uncle, a formidable aunt, a few friends and cousins, and various inhabitants of the slightly magical, eccentric neighborhood of St. Crispian’s.

In Volume 2, Emma, determined to remain in her home, Lapis Lazuli House, despite financial and social difficulties, begins to enter into multiple adventures and schemes and to add a bit a romance to her life. Even though Emma is not particularly interested in romantic entanglements or marriage, and even though she is not particularly eligible, having little or no money, she does have an awful lot of young men in her orbit: the photographer to whom she rents a room, her childhood nemesis turned into a handsome bachelor, the duke who lives in the neighborhood, a poetic and somewhat eccentric Church of England curate, and a charming scoundrel named Jack, to name a few. Emma navigates all of these with grace and wit, while also doing the bidding of her autocratic Aunt Eugenia, somewhat reluctantly, and managing at least a stand off with her arch-enemy Cousin Archibald.

At this point and into volumes 3 and 4, the story begins to remind one of a TV series (like Downton Abbey or All Creatures Great and Small) with lots of characters, some lovely dialog, little stories embedded into a larger story, and hints and revelations that pique the curiosity and keep one coming back for more. So far the romance is chaste and Victorian, and the language is tame, although there are a very few instances in which characters use God’s name in vain, which I wish were not present. Since I’ve only read Volumes 1-4 so far, I can’t guarantee that Emma remains a paragon of virtue, by twenty-first century standards. By Victorian standards, she’s already lost paragon status by the end of Volume 2. However, her adventures are not really shocking for anyone who is not Aunt Eugenia or of her ilk, and Emma is a church-going, Scripture reading, young lady in all I have read so far.

I love these books, and I foresee spending a great deal of time reading Emma’s journals. Author Beth Brower has promised:  “the plan is to write four years of Emma’s life, give or take. And as every volume covers two months of Emma’s life, that is, indeed, six volumes each year.” So, twenty-four or more volumes. (Volume 2 and succeeding volumes are much longer than Volume 1; 191 pages for Volume 4.) At about $12.00 apiece in paperback, I also foresee spending a great deal of money collecting all of Miss Lion’s journals. If you read books in ebook form, you will have a much less expensive journey, should you decide to read your way through the Unselected Journals. If you can get them from the library, even better; however Rysdon Press seems to be Ms. Brower’s personal imprint, and many libraries do not purchase self-published books as a matter of policy. (Oh, I think Kindle Unlimited may have them for free.)

Still, here I go to order Volumes 5 and 6. At least, you will be able to check out Volumes 1-6 from Meriadoc Homeschool Library in the future. As I said, I am hooked.

Phineas Finn by Anthony Trollope

Jan21

Trollope is fast making a bid to become my favorite of the British Victorian novelists. I love the story of how he worked as a civil servant in the post office for twenty years while writing novels on the side. “He trained himself to produce a given number of words an hour in the early morning before going off to his post office duties.” By this means, he eventually wrote and published 47 novels and 16 other books and became well known in the Victorian book world, especially for his series of six novels about clerical life in the made up county of Barsetshire.

I also like the novels themselves. Trollope lands somewhere between Dickens and Thackeray in tone. His novels are less sentimental and heart-rending than those of Dickens. The reader does begin to care about Trollope’s characters, but we see the flaws in each of them as well as the pathos, and we’re never too surprised or struck down when their lives are a jumble of good and bad as a result of poor and not-so-poor decisions and eventualities. I’ve not yet been moved to tears or deep emotion by any of Trollope’s novels.

Trollope’s heroes and heroines are human and flawed, but Trollope is not so cynical and world-weary as Thackeray on the opposite side. (Vanity, but enjoyable vanity.)Trollope’s books have a lot to say about marriage and romantic relationships, both prudent and imprudent, mercenary and idealistic. But his characters are generally multi-dimensional, not completely out to marry for love or for money or for social position, instead maybe for some combination of the three.

Anyway, I read all the Barsetshire Chronicles last year and the year before, and then I decided to continue on with Trollope’s political series of novels, The Palliser Novels. The Barsetshire novels take place mostly outside London among people who are country people even though they may rich and aspiring to be “citified.” The Palliser books are set in and around Parliament, and there is a great deal of talk about British politics and political maneuvering. It’s all very confusing for an American reader, and maybe even for a current day British reader. But I could just read through all of the political mumbo-jumbo and set it aside to get at the meat of the story, a tale in this second Palliser Novel of a young Irishman, Phineas Finn, who is flattered and cajoled into running for office in the British House of Commons and wins a seat therein. Then the rest of the book is about Phineas’s romantic adventures and entanglements with some parliamentary wrangling and angling thrown into the mix.

Phineas Fin is young and innocent and Irish when he comes to London to take his seat in the House of Commons. And by the end of the book three years later, he has become romantically involved with no less four different women, and yet managed to remain rather innocent, even if he is somewhat older and and wiser.

Phineas is a frustrating and endearing character, a “gentleman” working hard to maintain his own integrity and honor while swimming along in a sea of political intrigue and compromise and conflicting rules and societal norms. He becomes an outsider, then an insider, then an outsider again, all in the space of three busy years. And his romantic and monetary fortunes rise and fall just as quickly. He falls in and out of love several times, considers marrying for the sake of money or position, resolves to give up all money and position for the sake of the woman he loves, and finally ends up with the best of the four women he has been courting. But I wasn’t sure that in the end he would remain happy with the marital bargain he made.

It was a good story. One of the things it made me think about, on this day after the inauguration of our 47th president, was the responsibility that we have to pray for our politicians and elected officials. It’s not any easier now than it was in the nineteenth century to maintain one’s integrity and do the work of government in Washington, D.C. or London or even Austin, TX. I thought about praying especially for Vice-President Vance and for other younger men and women who have been elected to office for the first time. It really is something of a swamp up there, and it’s not easy to know when to compromise and when to stand firm and how to stay out of trouble and how to still keep the courage of one’s convictions.

So, Phineas Finn is the second of the Palliser Novels, and the third one is called The Eustace Diamonds, which I believe has nothing to do with Phineas Finn. Then comes a book entitled Phineas Redux, which I assume is all about our man Phineas Finn again. Will he return to Parliament? Will he become some other sort of public servant? Will his marriage work out? Will the other ladies that he didn’t marry reappear in his life? Stay tuned, as they say on TV.

The Best Adult and Young Adult Fiction I Read in 2024

Jan7

If it’s good for young adults (older teens) it’s probably good for adults, too, and vice-versa. So, these are the adult fiction books I really enjoyed in 2024. (Links are to reviews here at Semicolon)

  • Joy in the Morning by P.G. Wodehouse. I read this one for Cindy Rollins’ summer course. Wodehouse is always good and funny and just all-around delightful.
  • Flambards, The Edge of the Cloud, and Flambards in Summer by K.M. Peyton. I’ve wanted to re-read these British young adult romance/horse books for a long time, and I finally found copies this year and read them. Just about as good as I remembered them to be.
  • The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope. I read a lot of Trollope in 2024, and I’m reading another book by Trollope now in the first days of 2025. Almost as good as Dickens and Thackeray.
  • Can You Forgive Her? by Anthony Trollope.
  • Stateless by Elizabeth Wein. Pair this book about the early days of aviation with the Flambards trilogy. They are all good.
  • The Swedish Nightingale: Jenny Lind by Elisabeth Kyle. A lightly fictionalized biography of the famous singer.
  • Girl With a Pen: Charlotte Bronte by Elisabeth Kyle. Another fictionalized biography, but mostly factual. And clean. And not iconoclastic or deconstructionist.
  • Pastures of the Blue Crane by H.F. Brinsmead. An Australian classic.

That’s it. I read a lot of thrillers by Ruth Ware and by Susan Hill (Simon Serraillier series) and by Ann Cleves and by Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling’s Cormoran Strike series), but I can’t really recommend any of them. They were all to some extent gritty with bad language and horrific crimes and bad language. I think it’s time I gave up on that genre.

The Silver Donkey by Sonya Hartnett

Oct15

It’s easy, almost inescapable, to find children’s books set before, during and after World War II–fiction, adventure stories, Holocaust stories, biography, memoir, nonfiction about battles and about the home front. I have about three shelves full of World War II books. But when I am asked to recommend books about or set during World War I, the task is harder. There are some good books about World War I, fiction and nonfiction, even picture books, but that war just doesn’t live in our collective imaginations in the same way that World War II does.

Someone recommended The Silver Donkey to me, and I thought, what with the comparative dearth of books set during that war in comparison to the Second World War, I’d add it to my library. Sonya Hartnett, the author, is an Australian writer. Her books, mostly written for children and young adults, have won numerous awards and prizes, including for the author the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award from the Swedish Arts Council in 2008, a sort of lifetime achievement award in children’s literature. Knowing all of this, I was primed to enjoy The Silver Donkey.

And enjoy it I did. However, I must say that it’s an odd sort of book. Two sisters who live on coast of the English Channel (do the French call it the French Channel?) in France, find a man lying in the forest who appears to be dead. The sisters, Marcelle, age 10, and Coco, age 8, are deliciously thrilled with their discovery, brimming with “anticipation and glee.” Their response feels very French, and somewhat true to the nature of children. As they approach the man, they find that he is not dead, but merely sleeping. He also tells them that he cannot see.

Marcelle and Coco have found a British deserter who wants nothing more than to go home across the Channel, to see his family, especially his younger brother who the soldier believes is calling to him to come home. Marcelle and Coco, and later their brother Pascal, find a way in their childish simplicity to help the soldier by bringing him food and eventually by discovering means for him to cross the Channel to England. In return for their help, and to pass the time, the soldier tells the children stories–stories about donkeys.

These are not perfect children, nor are they role models. They take food from the family larder and lie to their parents about what has happened to the food. They keep secrets. They aid and abet an army deserter, and they squabble with one another. They are somewhat ghoulish; Pascal in particular wants stories about war and battles and violence and heroism. The donkeys in the stories are more admirable. The first story the soldier tells is about a faithful old donkey who takes the expectant Mary to Bethlehem for the census and brings her and her baby home safely. The second story is about a humble donkey whose humility saves the world from a terrible drought. And the war story that Pascal begs for ends up being about a donkey who carries the wounded to safety in the midst of battle–at the cost of his own life.

The whole book is bittersweet. The heroes are all fictional donkeys. The children are funny and very human; somehow they feel as if they could only be French children with a sort of French attitude toward life. The soldier is a hero who calls himself a coward, and he is both brave and tired, tired of war. He is so tired that he decides one day, after having fought courageously in the war for a year or more, to leave the battlefront and walk home. His blindness seems to be a psychosomatic response to the horrors of war.

I wouldn’t recommend this book for younger readers, but for children thirteen and older it might be a good introduction to the controversies surrounding the entirety of World War I. Was it a wasteful stalemate of a war, initiated and perpetuated by old men who sent young men to die for no reason? Is honor worth fighting for? Should a soldier be like the donkey, brave and humble and faithful, or are humans called to be more discerning and wise than donkeys can be? What is the proper response to a war or to a soldier who has abdicated his responsibility in a war? These are certainly questions for older children and adults to think about, and The Silver Donkey gives rise to thought and discussion about questions of this sort.

The donkey stories are the best parts of the book, though.

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Girl With a Pen: Charlotte Bronte by Elisabeth Kyle

Mar29

“This being Charlotte Bronte’s story and not her biography, I have taken a few liberties. Some minor happenings have been transposed in time, other omitted or invented. . . . But this is Charlotte’s story. I have written it in the hope of awakening interest in a remarkable girl who wrote remarkable books.”

~Afterword by Elisabeth Kyle

I can’t decide whether it would be best to have read Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre before reading this fictionalized biography or whether Jane Eyre might flow even better if the reader were to know something about the life and times of its author. Either way, Girl With a Pen is a book not to be missed by Bronte fans. Making the story of Charlotte’s life into a fictional narrative while keeping the broad outlines and many of the details was a good choice on the part of a good author herself, Elisabeth Kyle. Ms. Kyle writes vividly and fluidly of Charlotte’s young adulthood and her rise to fame, telling the story of Charlotte Bronte’s growth as a person and as an author with understanding and an affinity for Charlotte and her sisters.

I’ve read several books about the Brontes, fiction and nonfiction. They all have their strengths and weaknesses. This one emphasizes Charlotte’s life in the parsonage at Haworth as a young adult, covers her time as a student in Brussels, and shows us her rocky, yet triumphant road to becoming a celebrated novelist, all without speculating about modern obsessions with Charlotte’s love life or her relationship with her father. Mr. Bronte is this book, is a typical Victorian father, rather over-protective of his daughters by modern standards, but loving and beloved by those same daughters. And Charlotte goes to Brussels to learn French and to teach English and does not indulge in any love affairs whilst there.

This biographical fiction novel is especially appropriate for junior high and younger high school readers who are interested in learning more about Charlotte Bronte’s life since the author omits the more sordid details of Branwell Bronte’s life and death with Branwell appearing only as a minor character in the story. The book also ends before the deaths of Emily and Anne, thereby avoiding those twin tragedies as well.

And Charlotte herself is indeed the focus of the narrative. Ms. Kyle tells Charlotte’s story vividly and memorably. In this book, Charlotte Bronte, who thought of herself as a rather nondescript and even ugly young lady, is is bright and personable and full of life. I would recommend this fictionalized biography to any teens who are readers, introverts, or aspiring writers. And adults like me, librarian-types, should find it fascinating as well.

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Other Bronte books I can recommend:

Sir Gibbie by George Macdonald

Apr30

I got a rotten version of this book, or else George Macdonald wrote a dud. The story is there, and it’s a good one. But the “edited” version I read was tedious and much too explanatory, over-simplified and dull. Kathryn Lindskoog, a C.S. Lewis scholar and an author herself of literary and critical works, was the editor of the book I read, in the Classics for Young Readers series, published by P & R Publishing. She also edited several other classics for this series, including  Little Women, The Little Princess, Robinson Crusoe, Hans Brinker, and Black Beauty. If they are all written in the style that I read in her version of Sir Gibbie, I would not recommend them. And honestly, I am not sure why any of those other classics need updating or editing in the first place. They were all readable and lovely in the original for me as a child or young adult.

I do understand why Macdonald’s work is often edited to translate the Scots dialect that is prominent in many of his novels, including Sir Gibbie. I’ve only compared the version I read with the original (from Project Gutenberg) in few places, but I’m fairly sure that a lot of the dialogue, instead of being translated into modern English, is just explained. And most of the descriptive passages are simply left out or edited down to near-nothings. The back of the book says that Lindskoog “stepped up the pace of each chapter.” Also it says “this edition is a winner of the Gold Medallion Book Award in recognition of excellence in evangelical Christian literature.” Ouch! I don’t know why this rather wooden and tedious retelling won such an award, but I’m just not a fan.

According to Wikipedia, Lindskoog wrote, about her edited versions of classics:

I’m as much of a purist as you. I absolutely love these authors. That’s why I’m hand-polishing them for today’s readers and performing what I call literary liposuction – removing flab and fat. I keep every bit of the original story, the style, and the values – even restoring parts cut out in other versions. I know my work would make the author happy; otherwise, I wouldn’t do it

Sir Gibbie, a mute orphan with a heart of gold, is an engaging character, and the plot, although somewhat convoluted, is interesting and even surprising at times. But again, I just couldn’t enjoy the story as it was told in this edited version. I plan to try the original at some point. What I’ve read of George Macdonald’s writing shows him as a much better writer than this “literary liposuction” version displays.

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro

Mar30

I didn’t know that Kazuo Ishiguro won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2017. I must have been busy the day that was announced. At any rate, I’m fairly sure he deserves the honor. There are layers of meaning in his latest novel, Klara and the Sun, and I’m not at all sure I got all or even most of them.

I don’t want to write too much about the plot of the novel because half of the fun is figuring out as you read what exactly is going on, who Klara is, what her abilities are, what this society and culture she lives in is like. We do know from the beginning of the story that Klara is an AF, and Artificial Friend, and what that means for Klara and for the teenager for whom she becomes an AF, is played out over the course of the novel.

The book asks some important questions about life and death: is death something to be avoided at all costs? What would you sacrifice to avoid dying? What would you sacrifice to keep someone you love alive?

Also there are questions about life and love: what is the essence of a human being? What is it you love when you say that you love someone? Is human love eternal, lifelong, and if it’s not, is it really love at all? Is the essence of love self sacrifice or imitation or something else? Is love letting go or holding close or both?

And finally, the questions are about technology and our relationship to it: is technology good or bad? Is it killing us or replacing us or enhancing our humanity? Can we become, through technological means, gene therapy or some other futuristic tinkering with our bodies and brains and genetics, something superhuman, better than human? Or are we losing something precious, our very humanity, when we try to create (super)man in the image of a god instead of living as a created being, under the authority of God, imago Dei?

My reviews of other books by Sir Ishiguro:

I look forward to reading more books by Kashuo Ishiguro, and I will be thinking about the implications of the story of Klara and the Sun for a good while. (Fell free to discuss details and spoilers in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve read the book.)