I love Ishiguro’s classic implied language showing Klara observe but not quite understand human interactions. I love the uncertainty and confusion with which Klara navigates the world, I love how Ishiguro’s writing sways between precise and a cacophony of voices, things, emotions, but always simple and deliberate.
I guess I don’t know if Ishiguro is adding anything new to that old question which all science fiction asks: what does it mean to be human? But it’s a beautiful exposition.