I just read an outstanding book --- what I would call an instant classic --- titled LITTLE EYES by Samanta Schweblin (made possible thanks to a wonderful translation by Megan McDowell). I have not read Schweblin’s other novels, though I will correct that error/omission as soon as possible. This is a book that cuts across genres and leaves them in shambles, while utilizing a unique storytelling structure to keep the pages turning.

A little background is necessary. LITTLE EYES is set in our immediate future. Schweblin drops the reader into a time when a new product (toy? device?) has been introduced into the marketplace for a long enough period that its name --- kentuki --- has entered the common lexicon on a worldwide basis. The kentuki is probably most similar in function to a Tamagotchi, an egg-shaped digital “pet” that first became popular in the late 20th century. A Tamagotchi is about the size of a key fob and requires the owner to “care” for it by digitally performing functions such as feeding it.

"...an outstanding book --- what I would call an instant classic... LITTLE EYES may well be the book that everyone is reading and talking about as we enter an uncertain summer."

Kentukis, as we quickly learn, are a bit more complex than that. They come in various animal shapes, each of which is fitted with rollers for movement, and interact with their keeper. Folks who buy into this can choose to be either a “keeper” or a “dweller.” A keeper buys the unit and charges it up, at which point the kentuki connects wirelessly to a central server that links to someone (identity unknown) who is somewhere else (location unknown) and has chosen to become a kentuki dweller. The dweller can see the keeper through the kentuki’s eyes. If the kentuki loses the connection, that’s all, folks. A new one has to be bought. Although not inexpensive, they become immensely popular. For a keeper, a kentuki can be a pet, a child, a companion or something else. For a dweller, it can be a vehicle for an ongoing voyeuristic experience, infidelity, a vacation or all sorts of other things.

LITTLE EYES details the possibilities that can arise from such a relationship between the keeper and their kentuki, as well as between the keeper and dweller. The latter two are anonymous to each other, and thus almost naturally become curious about with whom they are paired. Some stories connect intermittently throughout the book; for example, an artist and his paramour use the kentuki as a weapon of sorts against each other, while in another instance, an unlikely virtual threesome develops. Others, such as the shocking cautionary tale that opens the book, stand alone. My favorite of this type concerns a mother who gives in to a near meltdown tantrum and buys her young daughters a kentuki to share. All is well until they get home and charge the thing up. If Netflix doesn’t use this story for its “Black Mirror” anthology, it is missing a sure bet.

What Schweblin describes is happening now. Folks become so attached to their smartphones that they can’t let go of them. Different companies have household devices that their owners interact with on a number of levels, from programming tasks to home security. These objects store information, from recordings of conversations to comings and goings. In some cases, the device “knows” more about its owner than a close family member does.

However, the most remarkable thing about the book for me --- beyond Schweblin’s prescient extrapolation of where we are headed as a gadget-controlled society --- is how she infuses the kentuki with enough personality that it is difficult for the reader not to want one, notwithstanding the implicit warning label that is imprinted in each of the vignettes from which the novel is constructed. For that reason, as well as the others that I have noted, LITTLE EYES may well be the book that everyone is reading and talking about as we enter an uncertain summer.