I’ve been reading Ishiguro’s extraordinary Klara and the Sun for a long time. Many months now, many more than it should have ever taken to finish it.

My husband, seeing me cart it on my suitcase on holidays and never open it, or move it from one side-table to another, will ask me sometimes, “Is it good?” and “do you like it?” I do think it’s good, and I do like it (I have a soft-spot for robots, I’m prone to anthropomorphising them), however, the reason I’m still reading it is because I’m doing a close reading. Yes, it sounds a bit serious and technical, like it could veer off into critical analysis territory. Perhaps. But, what I’m actually doing is, with pen in hand, I’m underlying the parts where there are clever turns, where Ishiguro has (1) set something up, and (2) paid it off. And especially, once he’s done that, and I feel something. I care about Klara and the family she lives with. I’m given hints about what’s happened before she arrived, and indications of what’s going to happen. Klara has a somewhat innocent view of the world, and we’re reminded constantly about her synthetic perception. She describes the world seen through a grid, is one. Her need to replenish her (solar) batteries, is another. Hence, the sun. (Not a spoiler).

I am about half-way through. I’m reading it for structure and surprise, both. I’m reading it at a desk, not curled up on the sofa. It could easily be a fast read (my husband will get through it in several hours once he gets to it), but I’ve chosen to lay my own archeological grid down as I walk through it, so I can move backward and forward and understand the subterranean structure Ishiguro has laid below to create an impactful reading experience.

This is the reason for this page on SPW. Not for reviews of books, not really, but, like everything here, as a sign-post for the process. I deeply believe a writer’s work comes alive when the writer is also reading.

I’ll let you know how it goes. – Marilyn (13 Jan 2026)