Monday 24 October 2016

Book Review: The Remains of the Day

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro won the Booker Prize in 1989. It remains one of the 20th century's most critically acclaimed novels and was adapted into a film starring Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson, nominated for 8 Academy Awards in 1994. The novel is very absorbing, beautifully composed, moving, and deep. The novel is narrated by an elderly butler on a road trip in the 1950s. He reflects on his life, and his strive for professionalism and 'dignity'. The characterisation is so complete that when I think of the narrator, Stevens, I think of a person rather than a character. The Remains of the Day is a novel about the nature of relationships: professional, personal, and, almost existentially, with oneself. It has glittering moments of humour which made me laugh out loud. And it has moments of remarkable tenderness – which are almost painful to read – and moments of morality and politics which provide genuine food for thought. The character, Mr Stevens in this novel muses on his past life. It is fair to say that Stevens has spent most of his time building barriers between himself and others. His entire reason for living has been to serve Lord Darlington, who we gradually realise, is undeserving of such utter loyalty. Meanwhile, his feelings for Miss Kenton, and hers for him, are poignantly revealed. Kazuo Ishiguro is a genius of an author and much of the substance of this outstanding novel lies in what he doesn't say (or write), as much as what he does - an almost impossible task for any other author. His gentle unveiling of the absurd posturing of Stevens, his inability to deal with either his own, or others, feelings, his sad regret, and Miss Kenton's attempts to breach his defences are heart rending.
Kazuo Ishiguro is an amazing writer, I started this book immediately after finishing his more recent novel, The Buried Giant which I have also reviewed on this blog. Next up I will be reading his “The Unconsoled” which I am looking forward to immensely. Ishiguro was born in Nagasaki, Japan but was raised in the UK since the age of 5. The Japanese are popularly believed to live in a society hamstrung by rigid social conventions and politenesses, and I love the fact that here a British writer of Japanese descent manages to skewer the absurdities of our class system so well

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