"Our Generation Still Carry the Old Feelings. A Part of Us Refuses to Let Go. The Part That Wants to Keep Believing There's Something Unreachable Inside Each of Us. Something That's Unique and Won't Transfer."

The only thing I knew about Kazuo Ishiguro before reading Klara and the Sun was that he had written Remains of the Day. And while I haven't read that book or seen the movie, I'm familiar enough with what the story is about (my interest in Downton Abbey led me to seek out other, similar stories, even if I haven't read them yet). So imagine my surprise when expecting something along the lines of a period piece romance, I instead got a book about emotional support robots.

The book is set in an undefined future time in an undefined place (although there are a few context clues sprinkled throughout, mostly towards the end). Josie, a young girl with an unspecified illness (which we find out more about later...or do we? There are a lot of inferences the reader needs to make in this book) and her mother choose Klara, an AF (artificial friend) to keep Josie company at home while she's struggling with her sickness. Klara is excited for the possibility to serve Josie as she has been designed to do. And along the way, Klara learns and absorbs everything she possibly can about the world she encounters, in particular, she is extremely perceptive about human emotions and behaviors. Klara is convinced that she can make a deal with the Sun to restore Josie's health but we soon discover that there is much more going on behind the scenes with Josie and her family, housekeeper, and neighbor friend Rick. 

So while the book was nothing that I anticipated, I absolutely loved Klara and the Sun. And I very much realize that not everyone will feel the same. I think I was about halfway through when I was thinking, "Is anything actually going to happen in this book or what?" And then shortly after, realized that I had been missing all of the very carefully placed allusions all along. And then had to more carefully reflect on what was being said without actually being said. Even upon finishing the very last chapter, I knew I had missed something and had to do some internet sleuthing to see what it all meant. And holy moly, did I find a doozy of a theory that I do actually think is what happened. I can't stress enough how subtle and intentional the writing is - and I absolutely loved that. It's been a really long time since I've read a book that didn't spell it all out, hand it to you wrapped up in a bow. 

But at the heart of the book is the question of what it means to be human. And like the quote in the title of this post, we believe that there is a unique, undefinable "thing" that makes us, us. But what if that wasn't true? What if we could be exactly replicated down to our soul by AI or technology? And what does that say about how humans love? I am very excited to add all of Ishiguro's other works to my ever-expanding To Read list.

I'm using this book to fulfill the PopSugar Reading Challenge prompt of "A book your friend recommended." And immediately upon finishing the book last night, I texted this friend because I need to talk to someone about the ending! 

Next up, back to the reading lists I go. Picking up Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Amazing that I've never read this book, seen any of the adaptations, and have no idea what the story is about. So looking forward to this one! 

"She Was Like a Cork. No Matter How Rough the Sea Got, She Would Go Dancing Over the Same Waves That Sank Iron Ships and Tore Away Piers of Reinforced Concrete."

Considering that The Day of the Locust was a relatively short book, there was a whole lot going on. In particular, a lot of colorful, well-detailed characters.

Set in the 1930s, the narrator of the story is Tod, an artist who has recently moved to Hollywood to work on scenic design for the movies, and he tells about the myriad of individuals who pepper his life - Faye Greener, a bombshell aspiring actress, and her father Harry, a former vaudevillian turned door-to-door salesman; Homer Simpson (no relation), a troubled Midwesterner seeking respite in the California sunshine; Abe Kusich, the disgruntled little person with a temper; Earle the realest cowboy in California; Miguel, Earle's Mexican friend. Most of them had come to California with idealized notions of thriving in the movies and becoming a star, but instead live on the fringes of decency, wrapped up in hustles, cock fighting, booze, and prostitution. Oh, did I mention that all of these men are madly in love with Faye and Tod has landed himself in the friend zone but continually has rape fantasies about her? So yeah, there's that. 

At first I really didn't know what to make of the novel. It seemed mostly like a portrait of desperate folks who are trying to make their way through the churning machine of Hollywood, whatever that might look like. And initially, I wasn't all that interested in the characters, but as I moved through the book, I found myself quite engaged with the portraits that said so much about who they were with so few words. There were also a few moments that escalated my opinion - in particular the horrifically detailed cock fight (a literal fight between two roosters), which couldn't have been a clearer analogy for all of the men who eventually come to blows over Faye. And then the culminating scene where Tod, when walking past a movie premiere at the Kahn Persian theatre, quite literally gets swept into the riotous mayhem of the unrelenting crowd. This whole scene was written fancifully, like it was happening as a caricature of real events. But was again, a perfect analogy to describe all of the characters who were swept away in the throes of Hollywood. 

I was surprised to find that I liked the book much more than I thought I would early on. I'm still thinking about it a day later, so that has to say something about it, right? 

I am using this book to fulfill the PopSugar Reading Challenge prompt for "A book about or set in Hollywood."

Next up is a short break from the book lists to read Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro. A friend recommended this author and book to me a while back and it has been lurking on my "To Read" list for a while. So I take the plunge. 

178 to go. 

"They Trod on the Necks of Those Thousands of Others Who, for God Knew What Reason, Were Not Made as They Were; They Prided Themselves on Their Indignation, on What They Proclaimed as Their Righteous Judgements."

If only people were willing to take the time, to take the opportunity to read books (with an open heart) that can teach them so much about how oppressed groups live and the prejudice they've experienced, I really do believe it would change the world. Reading The Well of Loneliness, I kept having that feeling. "If only everyone would read this and really SEE and FEEL the struggle, and pain, and confusion, and hurt, and anger, and rejection that gay people experience from everyone, even those who supposedly love them the most. If only people could acknowledge and understand this with an ounce of compassion for the agony they experience, certainly it would change hearts and minds." 

The Well of Loneliness was written by Radclyffe Hall in the 1928 and became one of the seminal works of lesbian literature (often listed with Rubyfruit Jungle and Oranges are Not the Only Fruit). It was banned in the UK but oddly enough, not in the US. The fact that it was written almost 100 years ago and still so much of it feels relevant and topical today is quite heartbreaking. But also gives me so much admiration for Radclyffe Hall for even taking the risk of publishing this novel, surely knowing the potential blowback. 

The novel is supposedly based on Radclyffe's life, telling the story of Stephen, a young woman born to wealthy English parents who thought they were having a boy (hence them keeping the name they had initially planned for their son). Little did they know, that Stephen was gay (or what was referred to as "an invert" back in the day). She presented as a boy, cropping her hair short and dressing in the manor of men at the time. I wouldn't necessarily go so far as to say she was trans, but more likely nonbinary or what might be considered a butch lesbian. The novel details her abundant challenges of trying to understand who she is while being faced with ridicule, trying to develop relationships with both men and women and not understanding how to navigate her way in those relationships, and being treated so terribly by people she loved. And how this lifetime of hurt molded her into a bitter, oftentimes angry person. But I've never read a book about an angry character where I said, "I 100% get it. And she absolutely deserves to have that kind of anger after everything she has been through. And everything that has been denied to her." The person she becomes felt very authentic. And beyond heartbreaking. 

If you haven't, please go read this book. Even while set back in the 1920s, it will open your eyes to how simple it is to accept people exactly as they are, because everyone is just living as they have been created. And most times, all people want are love and acceptance.

I am using this book to fulfill the PopSugar Reading Challenge prompt of "A book with a queer lead." 

Next up is The Day of the Locust by Nathanael West. 179 to go.