England, 1956. An old butler by the name of Stevens sets off alone on a summer holiday.
As he unhurriedly drives through the English countryside, he reflects on his decades of service to Lord Darlington and his wish to serve humanity by serving “a great gentleman.”
Yet now, near the end of his career, Stevens finds himself doubting his late employer and his own dignity as a butler.
Lord Darlington, as Stevens gradually reveals, played a significant role in the politics of the interwar years in England as a Nazi sympathizer. And in the aftermath of the Second World War, Stevens’s conscience remains marred by his own inaction and loyalty.
He finds himself having dedicated the prime of his career to serving Darlington, who was much less of “a great gentleman” than he had supposed.
Yet this is only at the surface of the internal struggle Stevens faces as he recalls his past. To him, “greatness” as a butler meant restraint. Decades later, he has to confront his blind loyalty and restraint, not just as a butler but also as an individual, missing opportunities to find himself and find love.
His unquestioning dedication to this “great gentleman” over the 1930s eventually leaves him with nothing—without dignity, without respectable accomplishments, without love. He chased after an unknown ideal—that was never realized—while dismissing everything else his life had to offer.
And in the present, Stevens sets off on this solitary trip, trying to reconcile himself with his past.
A Character Study
As one of my favourite novels, Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day is a character study in every respect. It gives us a glimpse into a flawed protagonist. It asks us—the readers—to empathize with a character who is distinctly different from ourselves. We’re able to draw meaning from the novel on the significance of those around us and what we pursue.
When I first went through the book, Stevens appeared to be an unapproachable—if not frustrating—protagonist. He is aloof, and his loyalties and values seem inscrutable. However, as he recounts his time at Darlington Hall, Lord Darlington’s country-house estate, the reader slowly understands his vulnerabilities and flaws.
Ishiguro’s storytelling is imbued with descriptiveness at every turn. But it is also dynamic. He gracefully shifts the narration forward and back in time, giving readers a sense of connection to the past and the changing times.
Indeed, as I interpret it, even the title highlights the importance of time: we are left only with the remains of the day unless we cherish present experiences, allowing them to live on as memories.
In the end, Kazuo Ishiguro’s work is moving. It reveals the painful loneliness and self-deception that exists in life, yet it is also spectacularly beautiful. It emphasizes that we should spend our limited time focusing on what is truly important. The novel does so through a character at times distant but at other times inconceivably relatable.
I highly recommend The Remains of the Day to anyone looking for a thought-provoking read.
The Remains of the Day won the Booker Prize for Fiction in 1989. Kazuo Ishiguro won the 2017 Nobel Prize in Literature.