An Artificial Friend who’s Hard to Forget : “Klara and the Sun” by Kazuo Ishiguro Review

There was something very special, but it wasn’t inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her.”
— Kazuo Ishiguro, Klara and the Sun

Since reading this book, I’ve recommended it to everyone I know, so it was about time I wrote my review!

Without going into too much details, this novel follows Klara, an Artificial Friend, or AF as she’s called in the book, on her journey from the store to the home of Josie, the child who chooses her. But what sounds like a simple sci-fi premise unfolds into a quietly dazzling meditation on love, loneliness, and what it means to be human.

I think the most remarkable aspect of the novel is being inside Klara’s mind. You might think this is just another first-person narrative, but because Klara is an artificial being, her perception is at once alien and childlike, precise yet naïve. She observes the world in fragmented panes, sometimes literally seeing it as split into boxes, reflecting how she’s both part of the world and apart from it. It’s reminiscent of discovering reality anew, as though watching humanity through a pristine lens unclouded by cynicism or habit.

Another layer I loved was Klara’s relationship not just with Josie (in which we see the dimensions of friendship and love), but with the Sun itself. For Klara, the Sun becomes a kind of god, a benevolent force capable of healing and changing fate. This spiritual thread runs quietly but powerfully through the story. Klara’s faith in the Sun echoes the deeply human need to believe in higher powers that might intervene in our destinies, an idea Ishiguro handles with subtlety: we’re left unsure whether events unfold through coincidence or divine intervention.

I found Klara’s character deeply moving and likable. She’s designed to be an observer and a friend, yet she develops her own quiet wisdom, offering insights into human nature that sometimes feel clearer than any human’s. Through her, Ishiguro shows how our species constructs meaning from patterns, rituals, and beliefs, how we worship light (both literal and metaphorical) as a source of life and salvation. Klara’s story gently exposes our contradictions: our capacity for love and sacrifice, but also our readiness to discard what we no longer need.

One last thing I want to touch upon, without really going into details so I don’t spoil anything, is how the author portrayed mortality. Ishiguro handles the subject with such restraint and tenderness that it’s almost more powerful for what remains unsaid. Mortality in this novel isn’t just about physical death; it’s about the slow erosion of relevance, purpose, and connection. Through Klara’s eyes, we see how humans grapple with sickness, loss, and the inevitability of endings, and how technology both comforts and complicates these truths. It’s a subtle reminder that while we may create artificial beings to ease our loneliness or protect our loved ones, we cannot fully escape the fundamental vulnerability of being alive.

At the end of the day, Klara and the Sun is a haunting reflection on what it means to be human and to love, and perhaps even on what it means to be alive at all. As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly intertwined with our daily lives, Klara reminds us of the dangers of becoming robotic ourselves, emotionally disconnected and transactional, even as we try to build machines to replicate empathy.

This is a novel that lingers long after you close it, quietly asking questions in the background of your thoughts. It’s a perfect choice for a book club, but also for any reader who wants a story that’s both delicate and profound.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the book ! Don’t hesitate to comment if you’ve read the book!