The Remains of the Day
1989
In order to
do it justice, The Remains of the Day ought
to be judged on two different grounds: as
the work of an author and as fiction. My opinions on both vary widely.
The first turned out to be very positive and it is in fact Kazuo Ishiguro’s talent which renders the fiction actually deceptive and, eventually, a deception. Way before the end, I found myself liking the book, yet disliking its story. Be sure of this: nothing happens for the story centers chiefly on the butler Stevens as he recalls life at Darlington Hall during the 30s. Nostalgia, melancholy and bittersweet memories, a lot of denial, too, will make this flawless study essentially a ‘feeling’ book. With a great sense of structure, Ishiguro makes memories seem as if they sprang up spontaneously from Stevens’ own memory, when this recalling is actually organized along a shrewd line. But it is through a thoroughly mastered and precise use of language that Ishiguro best delivers his character, without ever betraying him with his own authoritative voice. You really are left in Stevens’ thoughts to judge for yourself. Beware spoilers!
As past events unveil and Stevens’ thoughts unravel, the horror surfaces from behind the façade of good old English sentiments. Little by little you come to understand that this is a systematic tale of a failed human mind and heart, best summarized by a critique addressed to Stevens: ““You just let all this go on before you and you never think to look at it for what it is.”” (234)
Indeed, Stevens is so obsessed with the little matters of his life that he avoids any personal and moral engagement when important ones come his way. This is what his great moments are made of: random and often absurd trivia. He talks a great deal about righteousness and dignity, yet fails to show any when most needed (his father’s illness, the Jewish maids, relationship with Nazi Germany,…) and it seems he busies himself so as to avoid growing up and confronting the tasks ahead of him as an independent human rather than as a submissive butler. This is a rather amoral man who lives in demanding times and refuses to meet them. Does he believe in anything beyond the excellent quality of silver polish?
He has managed to become quite the spitting image of his dear Lord Darlington, himself a coward devoid of values of his own who sheepishly follows any conduct of his friends_ wasn’t this one of Stevens’ chief ambitions: reflect in his own way the “great men” of his time…? Well, Lord Darlington is one ugly character and Stevens becomes another for refusing during 99% percent of the book to see it_ for admitting that much would put into question the importance he gives to his own life.
With his obsession of wanting everything just so, he remains nice without ever being kind. He is too concerned with his best course of action to show empathy and sympathy and eventually remains clueless. His recalling is hardly composed of the mature thoughts of an old man but is rather that of a teenager who’s skin deep in character and refuses to shake it off when the moment most requires it. Having constantly changed his views so as to feel more comfortable with his increasingly haunting reminiscences, epiphany comes in late and the real question is: will he keep it going and face the ‘new’ world without repeating old wrongs?
The Remains of the Day felt like a writing masterpiece which credibly delivered a difficult story to read through without banging the book against the wall. I will always dislike Stevens, but now I really love Ishiguro.
The first turned out to be very positive and it is in fact Kazuo Ishiguro’s talent which renders the fiction actually deceptive and, eventually, a deception. Way before the end, I found myself liking the book, yet disliking its story. Be sure of this: nothing happens for the story centers chiefly on the butler Stevens as he recalls life at Darlington Hall during the 30s. Nostalgia, melancholy and bittersweet memories, a lot of denial, too, will make this flawless study essentially a ‘feeling’ book. With a great sense of structure, Ishiguro makes memories seem as if they sprang up spontaneously from Stevens’ own memory, when this recalling is actually organized along a shrewd line. But it is through a thoroughly mastered and precise use of language that Ishiguro best delivers his character, without ever betraying him with his own authoritative voice. You really are left in Stevens’ thoughts to judge for yourself. Beware spoilers!
As past events unveil and Stevens’ thoughts unravel, the horror surfaces from behind the façade of good old English sentiments. Little by little you come to understand that this is a systematic tale of a failed human mind and heart, best summarized by a critique addressed to Stevens: ““You just let all this go on before you and you never think to look at it for what it is.”” (234)
Indeed, Stevens is so obsessed with the little matters of his life that he avoids any personal and moral engagement when important ones come his way. This is what his great moments are made of: random and often absurd trivia. He talks a great deal about righteousness and dignity, yet fails to show any when most needed (his father’s illness, the Jewish maids, relationship with Nazi Germany,…) and it seems he busies himself so as to avoid growing up and confronting the tasks ahead of him as an independent human rather than as a submissive butler. This is a rather amoral man who lives in demanding times and refuses to meet them. Does he believe in anything beyond the excellent quality of silver polish?
He has managed to become quite the spitting image of his dear Lord Darlington, himself a coward devoid of values of his own who sheepishly follows any conduct of his friends_ wasn’t this one of Stevens’ chief ambitions: reflect in his own way the “great men” of his time…? Well, Lord Darlington is one ugly character and Stevens becomes another for refusing during 99% percent of the book to see it_ for admitting that much would put into question the importance he gives to his own life.
With his obsession of wanting everything just so, he remains nice without ever being kind. He is too concerned with his best course of action to show empathy and sympathy and eventually remains clueless. His recalling is hardly composed of the mature thoughts of an old man but is rather that of a teenager who’s skin deep in character and refuses to shake it off when the moment most requires it. Having constantly changed his views so as to feel more comfortable with his increasingly haunting reminiscences, epiphany comes in late and the real question is: will he keep it going and face the ‘new’ world without repeating old wrongs?
The Remains of the Day felt like a writing masterpiece which credibly delivered a difficult story to read through without banging the book against the wall. I will always dislike Stevens, but now I really love Ishiguro.
Tags: cross-country tour, Darlington Hall as the only scene of life worthy of Stevens' opinion, pre-Second World War era, generational change and old English estates, political tensions in Europe in the interwar period, butlers and lords, dealing with antisemitism, shrewd analysis of the human mind, the complex do's and don'ts of class hierarchy in old English aristocratic society, total denial of the importance of the "what the hell are we doing here?" question for the sake of niceness, 'servants'' courtship dance
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