The Remains of the Day

I could have spent ages coming up with a really profound and meaningful choice to start the chain with, but in fact I chose Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day for no better reason than - because it was there. Not that I'm in any way comparing it to Everest - in fact it's not a challenging read at all. I think this is because Ishiguro's prose is so beautifully and naturally written that I was very rarely aware of the author or his words - the story and the descriptions just flowed into my head from the paper.

Having said that, when I took the time to think about the narrator's voice, it was really fascinating. The novel is narrated in the first person by Stevens, a butler in a large English country house in the interwar period. At first glance he is a stereotypical butler - dignified (an important theme in the book), calm, and somewhat pompous. It is only as the book goes on that the reader begins to see that beneath the costume of his dignified exterior is a man as insecure and full of regret as anyone else. Eventually he comes to realise how much he has lost out on through maintaining such an emotionless facade, and it is a heartbreaking moment. I feel that Ishiguro's skill really lies in his ability to rouse the reader's sympathy for a man who on the surface seems so devoid of character, and who never intentionally reveals a glimpse of his underlying emotions. In the end, it is what Stevens doesn't say that reveals the most about him.

The book mainly takes the form of the ageing Stevens' recollections of his years of service to Lord Darlington and his relationship with the housekeeper, Miss Kenton. As he drives across the English countryside, his narrative of the events of his driving holiday is interspersed with memories which, it seems, he is unable to suppress. In essence, because of the two time frames of the book, the story has two climaxes, one of which involves his memories of Lord Darlington and his dangerous manipulation of the current affairs of the age. The other, towards which the book is obviously building from the beginning, is a short meeting with Miss Kenton, now married and moved away. Whether either of these endings is entirely satisfying is something I can't decide on - they are certainly both sources of regret for Stevens.

I loved this book. The beautiful prose, the subtle characterisation and the wonderful descriptions of the English countryside have made me a big fan of Ishiguro's writing. I just wish I could decide how hopeful I feel the end of the book is. As someone who loves a happy ending I'm trying to see it that way, but actually the more I think about the closing two or three paragraphs, the more unbearably sad I find them. This is a book that's going to stay with me for a long time.