Kazuo Ishiguro’s family moved to England in 1960, when he was only six years old. He has said that growing up in England with a Japanese family was ‘crucial to his writing’, and that perspective surely feeds into The Remains of the Day. Though nobody in the novel is Japanese, only someone both in and out of English culture can spear it with the precision he does in the novel.
The narrator is Mr. Stevens, a butler at a stately home called Darlington Hall. Though it has recently been taken over by an American, Mr. Farraday, it had before that been held by Lord Darlington, whom Stevens served for many years. The book takes place over the course of a holiday Stevens takes at the encouragement of Mr. Farraday, which will culminate with a visit to his old colleague Miss Kenton. Stevens reflects on his life as a butler, and we learn about his history with Lord Darlington and how his former employer fell into disrepute.
Ishiguro has a calmness to his style that belies the complex range of emotions beneath. It suits this story of stiff upper lips and repressed feeling. The novel as a whole is a criticism of this aspect of the English character. Stevens expresses his semi-patriotic admiration for it, but in reality it is quietly destructive. It prevents Stevens from pursuing a romance with Miss Kenton, and leads to him regretting a wasted life.
The book also explores the pitfalls of nostalgia. Though Stevens looks back with fondness on the old days of Darlington Hall, it’s clear to the reader that he’s in denial of the more sordid parts of those times. Soon we learn that for a period of time before the Second World War, Lord Darlington supported the Nazis, to the extent of firing two maids because they were Jewish. While Stevens recognises the act as wrong, he still defends his old master, and evidently has more regrets than he lets on. The dominant narrative about WWII in this country is the plucky Brits going up against nasty old Hitler, but in reality there were those like Lord Darlington who supported the Nazis pre-war. Ishiguro here is reminding us that romanticising the past can be a dangerous thing.
The skill with which all of this is woven together is worthy of respect. Ishiguro’s command of voice is such that we are never less than convinced that this story is being told by an English gentleman. His descriptions of Darlington Hall and the minutiae of life in a stately home are immersive and detailed, revealing a world lost to time.
The Remains of the Day won the Booker Prize in 1989, and was adapted into a 1993 film directed by James Ivory. As a book about historical blindness and the fragility of English national identity, I’m sure I don’t need to explain why it’s more relevant today than ever. Tragic, haunting, and at times surprisingly funny, it’s unquestionably a masterpiece.
Review by Charlie Alcock
Ishiguro has a calmness to his style that belies the complex range of emotions beneath. It suits this story of stiff upper lips and repressed feeling. The novel as a whole is a criticism of this aspect of the English character. Stevens expresses his semi-patriotic admiration for it, but in reality it is quietly destructive. It prevents Stevens from pursuing a romance with Miss Kenton, and leads to him regretting a wasted life.
The book also explores the pitfalls of nostalgia. Though Stevens looks back with fondness on the old days of Darlington Hall, it’s clear to the reader that he’s in denial of the more sordid parts of those times. Soon we learn that for a period of time before the Second World War, Lord Darlington supported the Nazis, to the extent of firing two maids because they were Jewish. While Stevens recognises the act as wrong, he still defends his old master, and evidently has more regrets than he lets on. The dominant narrative about WWII in this country is the plucky Brits going up against nasty old Hitler, but in reality there were those like Lord Darlington who supported the Nazis pre-war. Ishiguro here is reminding us that romanticising the past can be a dangerous thing.
The skill with which all of this is woven together is worthy of respect. Ishiguro’s command of voice is such that we are never less than convinced that this story is being told by an English gentleman. His descriptions of Darlington Hall and the minutiae of life in a stately home are immersive and detailed, revealing a world lost to time.
The Remains of the Day won the Booker Prize in 1989, and was adapted into a 1993 film directed by James Ivory. As a book about historical blindness and the fragility of English national identity, I’m sure I don’t need to explain why it’s more relevant today than ever. Tragic, haunting, and at times surprisingly funny, it’s unquestionably a masterpiece.
Review by Charlie Alcock
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