The Remains of the Day

I belong to this book club that I never attend.
 

I read the books.  I make a lot of notes on the books.  These notes are generally read and I’m given to understand that some great conversations flow from what I’ve written.  I’m just never there.

My notes are usually handwritten and thrown away (because I have enough paper floating around my bedroom that should have been tossed out weeks before.)  Hand-writing something gives me time to think and prepare for a very particular audience.  But this month, I’m tired.  And my hands are sore.  Typing is faster.  Now I’m only ruining my fingers.

I’m also out of ideas for a blog post this week.  So to make sure I keep to a schedule and my book club has an opportunity to hear from me, here are my thoughts on Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day, which has as much information on the qualities and duties of the butler profession as Moby Dick has on whaling or From A Buick 8 has on police procedures.  Well, maybe not that much.

This was a very hard novel to understand for the first half.  The first-person narrator, Mr. Stevens, is a butler for Mr. Farraday, an American gentleman who has given Stevens an opportunity to go on a week’s vacation, something Stevens is very uncomfortable with until he finds one business item to take care of during his trip.  During this trip, Stevens spends a lot of time reminiscing about the old days when his former employer was Lord Darlington and he served the world’s elite.  And with the reminiscing, his mind wanders to the philosophy and practices of his profession.

He spends a lot of time on his profession.  This threatened to bug me and I did put the book down a couple times because I wanted something to happen and it just wasn’t.  I wondered if this would be the first book I didn’t finish for the club.  The thing that did draw me back time and again, though, was Stevens’ charm.  And he does have charm.  He is a deep-thinker within the scope of his profession and it’s clear that he loves being a butler.  He’s built his entire life around it and he is quite poetic as he contemplates the meaning and pursuit of dignity.

More than that is the inherent humor behind everything he does.  This mostly shows in his relation with his current employer, Mr. Farraday, who like most Americans has a penchant for “banter.”  Stevens has the impression that Mr. Farraday would like Stevens to banter with him, but Stevens feels totally out of his depth.  He’s like Roland Deschain from The Dark Tower series; he has no sense of humor.

The irony is that Stevens is funny; I couldn’t help but laugh at what he was saying and some of the situations he got put in—his trying to explain sex to a 23-year-old was priceless.  But the joke is completely lost on Stevens.  He’s spent his whole life being practical that he’s never been able to appreciate the ridiculousness that constantly surrounds him.

Despite this, I was a hundred fifty pages in wondering what the story was about when it started to fall into place.  It’s during the dinner where diplomats from all over Europe attend Darlington Hall that Stevens’ father dies and continues his service that I began to understand what was happening.  His father dies, but he continues his service at the dinner because he believes with his whole heart that duty comes first before all else.

By the end of the book, you see him go through one more personal crisis, where the woman he won’t admit that he’s fallen for is leaving for good and his employer seems to be making a great error in judgment, Stevens continues to stand in place as his butler duty demands, and instead of sorrow and confusion, he feels triumph in a job well-done.

This gave me quite a bit to think about.  Sacrifice is not a foreign concept to me.  Indeed, I love stories of sacrifice.  Usually, I apply it to soldiers going to war to protect their homes or to save the downtrodden.  Or maybe it’s the guy gets hit by a bus to save a kid that was in the way.  It’s the fireman who runs into the burning building.  Since Martin Luther King’s Day just passed, it can be the ones who never stopped speaking truth against the hard-hearted and oppressive.  Or it could be the prophet who gives his life proclaiming his God is real.

These are people who soften my heart and make me realize that I’m not doing enough but that it is in power to do so.  But they are also pro-active, in the middle of events, actively trying to change things for the better.

Stevens is that worst sort of fictional character: one determined and successfully remains an observer.  He takes pride in that he doesn’t get involved with the great events of his day.  His determination to remain obedient to his employer no matter what and never question the sense or the morality of his boss’s commands can lead one to wonder whether or not he’s human.  Except that by the end of the story, you realize that he’s not a mindless robot but that he committed himself to be the most worthy servant he ever could be and in that, he never faltered.  I was actually very proud of him for fulfilling his duties.

That cost him a lot.  And had I been in his position, I know I wouldn’t have made the same decision, but that’s because I haven’t put my profession as my number one priority.  But in the end, it wasn’t even his profession that mattered most to him, it was Lord Darlington that he loved more than anything.  Lord Darlington was who Stevens felt to be among the best of men, somebody he trusted to bring peace and happiness to his society.  He believed in his employer and he gave everything he had to make sure that he did his own small part in letting Lord Darlington accomplish his dreams and goals.  The butler profession was simply the way that Stevens could serve best.

And the last chapter made me understand why the book won an award.  It’s because at that moment, he realized that he hasn’t shown that same devotion to Mr. Farraday and yet he resolves from there to show that he does care for his current employer and he will sacrifice and better himself. Because he is a man who gives his best in all that he does.

It’s a very quiet and yet triumphant moment.  Well worth plowing through that charismatic yet confusing start.