Kazuo Ishiguro’s Klara and the Sun is technically a book about a robot. Klara is an “Artificial Friend” bought as a companion for a sick child in a slightly-future America. That is the plot. The book itself is about faith, class, and what a mother will do for her child — and it happens to be narrated by an AI who is trying to make sense of a household she does not understand.
I picked it up expecting one thing (dystopia, warnings, cautionary tale) and got another (a strange, quiet, sun-drenched book about love that would be almost unbearable if you removed the emotional distance of the narrator). Ishiguro pulls the same trick he pulled in Never Let Me Go: he gives you a narrator who does not know what she is describing, and lets you figure out the horror and the beauty at your own pace.
If you have avoided literary science fiction because it always ends in a warning about technology, this one does not do that. If you have avoided Ishiguro because Remains of the Day made you uncomfortable, this one is warmer. And if you like books that pretend to be about one thing and are actually about another, you have found a good one.