I think if I read this book when I was younger, I would have thought, "So what? Stevens made his choices, or better yet deliberately did not make choices" and then moved on to my next book.
But I am older, and I greatly appreciate it. I am amazed by the feelings Ishiguro evokes with the spareness of his writing. The things he chose not to elaborate upon and leave to us to muse upon is masterful. For example, leaving out the specific backstory of Stevens' and his father's relationship allowed Ishiguro to craft a more universal narritive while allowing us readers to connect with it on a personal level.
It occurs to me that Stevens just does not have the capacity for critical thinking unless he is in conversation with someone else, such as with the other butler in the small house. In this way, this book is Steven's conversation with us, the reader, and unfortunately we cannot push back on him to have him reconsider his final choice to repress his feelings and fall back to being the consummate professional.
I have no issue with unquestioning loyalty and devotion since this how people learn "The Way" for both religion, the Samurai code of Bushido, and to a lesser degree the whole notion of appprenticeship. But Stevens uses professional dignity as an excuse not to deal with his feelings. That's his only way of coping with life -- no friends, no mentors -- and to me, that's truly heartbreaking.
I couldn't help but wonder what Stevens thought of Miss Kenton's 'dignity' as a housekeeper. He seemed to hold her in the highest professional regard despite her moments of private vulnerability.
I found it interesting that in those moments of vulnerability he chose to chastise her for unrelated theoretical lapses in her performance. He even justifies them as being kind by distracting her from her sorrow.
I, too, should admit that my heart was breaking in unison with Stevens'.
Yes, Stevens chose to devote himself to a "dignified" butler life and to distance himself from meaningful relationships. But seeing a hint of his feelings, even if it was for just a moment, has an incredible emotional impact.
Mr Stevens' self-deception is fascinating to me precisely because we see what might be some (very thin) cracks in his convictions. How much can one lie to oneself? Does Stevens know, deep down, that what his former boss did was wrong or foolish? Does any part of him admit that putting all his energy into a devoted butler life was not worth the sacrifice? I keep wondering how much of Stevens’ narration is an attempt to shut down these questions and how much is an attempt to come to grips with them.
I don't know exactly how Ishiguro manages to evoke these ambiguous, complex emotions but I love how the unreliability of the narrator contributes to it. Even the choice to set the last chapter two full days after the previous one is telling.
I loved the novel and the weekly discussions have only made it better. I had not read any other books by Ishiguro but I will certainly add some to my reading list - recommendations welcome!
I agree. Hannah Arendt calls this "the banality of evil" in her book EICHMANN IN JERUSALEM and the Frankfurt School critical theorists call this "the Authoritarian Personality." In fact, I think Stevens is worse because he gives his actions a fancy name!
I really loved the book. It addresses a fear I think many of us have which is, on the whole, how do I know that my impact on the world isn’t a net negative? Stephens toward the end of the book is really coming to terms with the person he gave his life’s work and loyalty to, while not an especially cruel man himself, has lived a life that’s resulted in making the world crueler than it might have been otherwise. Once you come to realize that, especially late in life, what can you do? I actually think Steven’s change in perspective on bantering in the last page, while just being a small step, is a step in the right direction and it leaves us with some hope that the latter years of his life will be warmer and happier than his former years.
I read the ending as a synthesis between his lifelong goal of being a great butler with his newfound appreciation for the importance of 'human warmth' as he puts it. He's repudiating his previous insistence on unemotional professionalism, but not rejecting his role as butler entirely.
You could, of course, criticize Stevens for committing himself to another employer. While perfectly valid, being a butler is all he knows and the only way he can envision being of use. He's choosing to live a more authentic life, but perhaps not wholly authentic. But then again, what would a wholly authentic life look like for Mr. Stevens?
Regardless, I do see the ending as him committing to spending what remains of the day in a happier way.
I felt for Mr. Steven during his conversation with Mr. Cardinal. They both genuinely care about Lord Darlington, yet it's only Mr. Cardinal who sees the writing on the wall. I wasn't sure if Mr. Steven's was pretending to not pick up on the clues to avoid besmirching his employers name, it felt worse knowing that he devoted his whole life to him with full blinders on.
"How could you have not seen it? The way they've used it, manipulated it, turned something fine and noble into something else – something they can use for their own foul ends?"
—
Dr. Carlisle's mixed feelings about his town are interesting. On the one hand he states "I'd happily spend the rest of my life out here" but follows it with "Really, no one in the village wants upheaval, even if it might benefit them...they don't want to be bothered with this issue and that issue." Then moves onto his recollection of being a former "committed socialist." Is he upset at their lack of action, or that he joined them?
—
My favorite line "Surely it is enough that the likes of you and I at least try to make our small contribution count for something true and worthy." Personally, I've felt that more and more since Covid. I moved closer to family as a temporary escape from crowded cities and ended up building strong relationships that I wouldn't have otherwise because I had been wrapped up in the hustle of work. It's taken some getting used to, but I'm enjoying the banter.
"How could you have not seen it?" What a great question!
It's easy for us to scrutinize the words and deeds of a fictional character in a story, it's altogether different, and a whole lot more difficult, for us to direct this question to real people in real life. How often do we NOT see, or not call out, the negative consequences of the deeds of people around us? And the ultimate test, especially for anyone who is philosophically-minded, how often do we not see the consequences of our own words and deeds? Are we sure we haven't or aren't committing the same mistake as Mr. Stevens?
I have read everybody’s comment carefully and find myself in agreement with all. And yet I am not as wowed by The Remains of the Day as everyone else is. There’s no question the novel is excellently-crafted and satisfying in many respects. However, I do not feel “possessed” by it emotionally or intellectually. Though I am aware that we all react to art in a unique way, still, I want to understand where I find it possibly lacking. So I got to thinking and here are my thoughts.
First, character growth. In spite of his momentary recognition of human warmth and his suppressed feelings for Ms. Kenton at the end, Mr. Stevens’ character remains mostly unchanged throughout the story. The death of his father did not change him; neither did his employer’s dabble in Fascism nor his firing of the Jewish women. He was unaffected by Ms. Kenton’s falling out with him and her eventual departure. Finally, he failed to rethink his views even when directly confronted by Mr. Cardinal and Mr. Smith. Most importantly, I sense no indication that his discovery of human warmth will bring about any changes in his thinking or future way of life except as an addition to his professional arsenal in the form of bantering. It is disappointing that Mr. Stevens did not grow in self-knowledge or become a “better” person.
Second, philosophical ideas. The Remains of the Day contains many important philosophical questions, as already described in the other comments. But, as with the poor character development, they do not grow in breadth or depth as the story unfolds. As a result, we do not gain a more detailed or nuanced understanding of “dignity,” “honor,” or “loyalty,” all key concepts of the novel. Many interesting questions crop up during the group discussion near the end, touching on democracy, individual rights, political participation, etc., but they receive no further treatment by the author; they are simply left there. I am mindful that this is a novel and not a philosophical text, but it seems to me that if the author decides to include them in the story, he ought to do something with them. I feel that this is a missed opportunity.
Third, the historical and political background. This is a story that Ishiguro, a Japanese-British citizen, wrote in the 1980s about a butler ruminating in the 1950s about his life in the 1920s! This is a tremendously complicated background, which includes the recent end of WWI, the rise and victory of German Nazism, WWII, the Holocaust, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the surrender of Japan, and, perhaps the most relevant for the story, the collapse of the British Empire. It’s hard to find a more eventful historical period. And to be even more precise, the story opened in July, 1956, just three months before the Suez Crisis. The author must have picked this period for good reasons. But, again, I am disappointed that he didn’t do more with this rich historical background than Darlington’s unwitting involvement with the Nazis.
Finally, the choice of narrative strategy. My feelings are very unclear about this issue. When i was reading the novel, my mind kept comparing it with Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. While both stories deal with life of the English aristocracy at around the same time, one is written in the 20s and the other in the 80s. Interestingly, Mrs. Dalloway feel in every way the more “modern” novel and The Remains like a throwback to the Victorian novels of the 19th Century. This, of course, is not a matter of evaluation but, rather, just an observation. The more pertinent point here is that Woolf’s novel is all about the interior life of the consciousness of the characters, while Ishiguro’s novel is told exclusively through external words and deeds. I think I understand why Ishiguru chose this particular narrative strategy but, at the same time, I can’t help wondering whether a glimpse of Mrs. Stevens’ inner life would have made the novel richer. Did he have to undergo any inner struggles, emotionally or intellectually, at any time during the story? Perhaps I’m hoping for a bit more humanity in the main character so that it could be more multidimensional. But, as I said, my feelings are mixed on this.
It’s a fine line whether the novel is understated or underwritten. In any case, we all have to decide for ourselves which side we come down on.
I agree that appreciation for this book is enhanced by age. That point where there are more years behind than ahead. Few of us can say all those years were spent on the ideal. Few of us, if we are honest with ourselves, have zero regrets in our pasts from work to relationships. We, however, do have to find a way forward by honoring our past with all its flaws and triumphs to find peace moving forward, especially when forward usually means stepping away from the work we’ve done most of our lives. We meet Mr. Stevens at the beginning of his end.
I agree that we must all find "a way forward by honoring our past with all its flaws and triumphs." Nevertheless, my reservations about Mr. Stevens stem from two reasons. First, he doesn't seem to recognize the possible flaws in his past and continues to live in his world of self-deception and rationalizations. Second, the author gives us no indication to believe that Stevens would step away from the work he's been doing for his whole life; on the contrary, I get the impression that he is in a hurry to get back to butlering with his new skill of bantering! The central question I'm posing is this: now that he has reached this late stage in his life and profession, what, if any, lesson has Mr. Stevens learned from his life story?
Spot on with this. Stevens is showing us the wrong way to go about this life crossroad, but he is doing it in the only way he knows how. He must, above all else, be the very best butler… fashioned on an ideal that no longer exists. Possibly never existed.
My marginalia on the last page are great. 2nd to last paragraph, banter as the "key to human warmth" I wrote "**Snapping out of it!" and then an arrow to the final paragraph, "aaaand we're back"
It reads as a reflection on the changing nature of work in postwar England, now subservient to the USA, almost as a eulogy for the lost Empire: Darlington's godson says "the American was right"; Stevens drives his master's Ford car around (something about Henry Ford holding ideals resembling those of Nazis and Darlington being a hapless abetter might be worth unpacking?); Stevens accepts the need to banter American-style. The old butler of the old aristocracy of the old culture is gone.
As a person jaded on politics and "civic action" or whatever, I like the bits with the townfolk who are not interested in being "worked up over issues" and just want to l live their "quiet little lives." Stevens was enamored with being close to matters of "a global significance" irrespective of what those matters were. And in so doing lost his own way.
Other thoughts:
p. 207, "I must confess my overwhelming feeling on [being recognized as a butler] was one of relief" His pride is in his profession.
p. 237 calls back to p. 173 when Miss Kenton again asks what the future holds, and he again says "work, work, and more work."
I love this novel, and I actually think the ending places Stevens as an existential hero. Just like his master and Miss Kenton (and many of us), he's spent his life in service of an ideal that has eventually disappointed him. We see at the end though that he forgives himself, and strives to pick up whatever remains of the day, learn how to joke with his new master, and strive for new connection.
I remember what Arendt said about forgiveness being a core part of politics, because our best intentions can always lead to unknown outcomes. I feel Stevens embodies this forgiveness, and the fact he chooses to pick himself up, change, and keep living is ironically what I think is core to the idea of "Dignity" that he's always looking for. He never seemed more dignified to me than at the end, facing his mistakes and carrying on.
There's a good chance all of us will face feelings of wasting years of our life making wrong decisions or going down the wrong path. As we get older will we be destroyed by our well intended mistakes like Lord Darlington, or will we confront them, and move forward with what remains of the day?
I haven't had anything to say in the discussion for Remains of the Day, but I really enjoyed it. The only Ishiguro book I had read before this one was The Buried Giant, which I didn't really care for. But after reading Remains of the Day, I'll certainly try reading another Ishiguro book, probably Klara and the Sun.
There's a lesson in this book that I think one needs to have made a few mistakes to recognize.
There's often an urge to simply go with the flow, to continue the path that you feel has been set out for you. The Remains of the Day is a cautionary tale, a reminder that tying one's self worth to anything external is dangerous. The truth is, if we believe Stevens' narration, he is truly an incredible butler, absolutely deserving of the status of "great butler" he covets. But that doesn't make him a happy man, despite what he may claim. Having fallen into this trap at least once so far, this lesson hits particularly hard for me. When the pursuit of excellence in a field comes at the expense of personal joys, it's easy to rationalize the wrong choice.
I think if I read this book when I was younger, I would have thought, "So what? Stevens made his choices, or better yet deliberately did not make choices" and then moved on to my next book.
But I am older, and I greatly appreciate it. I am amazed by the feelings Ishiguro evokes with the spareness of his writing. The things he chose not to elaborate upon and leave to us to muse upon is masterful. For example, leaving out the specific backstory of Stevens' and his father's relationship allowed Ishiguro to craft a more universal narritive while allowing us readers to connect with it on a personal level.
It occurs to me that Stevens just does not have the capacity for critical thinking unless he is in conversation with someone else, such as with the other butler in the small house. In this way, this book is Steven's conversation with us, the reader, and unfortunately we cannot push back on him to have him reconsider his final choice to repress his feelings and fall back to being the consummate professional.
I have no issue with unquestioning loyalty and devotion since this how people learn "The Way" for both religion, the Samurai code of Bushido, and to a lesser degree the whole notion of appprenticeship. But Stevens uses professional dignity as an excuse not to deal with his feelings. That's his only way of coping with life -- no friends, no mentors -- and to me, that's truly heartbreaking.
Someday, I might re-read the book and compare Miss Kenton with Stevens in both their professionality and their way of handling life.
I couldn't help but wonder what Stevens thought of Miss Kenton's 'dignity' as a housekeeper. He seemed to hold her in the highest professional regard despite her moments of private vulnerability.
I found it interesting that in those moments of vulnerability he chose to chastise her for unrelated theoretical lapses in her performance. He even justifies them as being kind by distracting her from her sorrow.
I, too, should admit that my heart was breaking in unison with Stevens'.
Yes, Stevens chose to devote himself to a "dignified" butler life and to distance himself from meaningful relationships. But seeing a hint of his feelings, even if it was for just a moment, has an incredible emotional impact.
Mr Stevens' self-deception is fascinating to me precisely because we see what might be some (very thin) cracks in his convictions. How much can one lie to oneself? Does Stevens know, deep down, that what his former boss did was wrong or foolish? Does any part of him admit that putting all his energy into a devoted butler life was not worth the sacrifice? I keep wondering how much of Stevens’ narration is an attempt to shut down these questions and how much is an attempt to come to grips with them.
I don't know exactly how Ishiguro manages to evoke these ambiguous, complex emotions but I love how the unreliability of the narrator contributes to it. Even the choice to set the last chapter two full days after the previous one is telling.
I loved the novel and the weekly discussions have only made it better. I had not read any other books by Ishiguro but I will certainly add some to my reading list - recommendations welcome!
Klara and the Sun is fantastic and evokes those same, ambiguous emotions.
I feel that a parallel may be drawn here between Stevens and the under officers of actual Nazis who claimed to be just following orders.
I agree. Hannah Arendt calls this "the banality of evil" in her book EICHMANN IN JERUSALEM and the Frankfurt School critical theorists call this "the Authoritarian Personality." In fact, I think Stevens is worse because he gives his actions a fancy name!
Absolutely, for all of Stevens’ talk of dignity and upholding honour talk, it’s only talk. In actual fact his actions helped uphold Nazis.
I really loved the book. It addresses a fear I think many of us have which is, on the whole, how do I know that my impact on the world isn’t a net negative? Stephens toward the end of the book is really coming to terms with the person he gave his life’s work and loyalty to, while not an especially cruel man himself, has lived a life that’s resulted in making the world crueler than it might have been otherwise. Once you come to realize that, especially late in life, what can you do? I actually think Steven’s change in perspective on bantering in the last page, while just being a small step, is a step in the right direction and it leaves us with some hope that the latter years of his life will be warmer and happier than his former years.
What a fantastic book!
I read the ending as a synthesis between his lifelong goal of being a great butler with his newfound appreciation for the importance of 'human warmth' as he puts it. He's repudiating his previous insistence on unemotional professionalism, but not rejecting his role as butler entirely.
You could, of course, criticize Stevens for committing himself to another employer. While perfectly valid, being a butler is all he knows and the only way he can envision being of use. He's choosing to live a more authentic life, but perhaps not wholly authentic. But then again, what would a wholly authentic life look like for Mr. Stevens?
Regardless, I do see the ending as him committing to spending what remains of the day in a happier way.
I felt for Mr. Steven during his conversation with Mr. Cardinal. They both genuinely care about Lord Darlington, yet it's only Mr. Cardinal who sees the writing on the wall. I wasn't sure if Mr. Steven's was pretending to not pick up on the clues to avoid besmirching his employers name, it felt worse knowing that he devoted his whole life to him with full blinders on.
"How could you have not seen it? The way they've used it, manipulated it, turned something fine and noble into something else – something they can use for their own foul ends?"
—
Dr. Carlisle's mixed feelings about his town are interesting. On the one hand he states "I'd happily spend the rest of my life out here" but follows it with "Really, no one in the village wants upheaval, even if it might benefit them...they don't want to be bothered with this issue and that issue." Then moves onto his recollection of being a former "committed socialist." Is he upset at their lack of action, or that he joined them?
—
My favorite line "Surely it is enough that the likes of you and I at least try to make our small contribution count for something true and worthy." Personally, I've felt that more and more since Covid. I moved closer to family as a temporary escape from crowded cities and ended up building strong relationships that I wouldn't have otherwise because I had been wrapped up in the hustle of work. It's taken some getting used to, but I'm enjoying the banter.
"How could you have not seen it?" What a great question!
It's easy for us to scrutinize the words and deeds of a fictional character in a story, it's altogether different, and a whole lot more difficult, for us to direct this question to real people in real life. How often do we NOT see, or not call out, the negative consequences of the deeds of people around us? And the ultimate test, especially for anyone who is philosophically-minded, how often do we not see the consequences of our own words and deeds? Are we sure we haven't or aren't committing the same mistake as Mr. Stevens?
I have read everybody’s comment carefully and find myself in agreement with all. And yet I am not as wowed by The Remains of the Day as everyone else is. There’s no question the novel is excellently-crafted and satisfying in many respects. However, I do not feel “possessed” by it emotionally or intellectually. Though I am aware that we all react to art in a unique way, still, I want to understand where I find it possibly lacking. So I got to thinking and here are my thoughts.
First, character growth. In spite of his momentary recognition of human warmth and his suppressed feelings for Ms. Kenton at the end, Mr. Stevens’ character remains mostly unchanged throughout the story. The death of his father did not change him; neither did his employer’s dabble in Fascism nor his firing of the Jewish women. He was unaffected by Ms. Kenton’s falling out with him and her eventual departure. Finally, he failed to rethink his views even when directly confronted by Mr. Cardinal and Mr. Smith. Most importantly, I sense no indication that his discovery of human warmth will bring about any changes in his thinking or future way of life except as an addition to his professional arsenal in the form of bantering. It is disappointing that Mr. Stevens did not grow in self-knowledge or become a “better” person.
Second, philosophical ideas. The Remains of the Day contains many important philosophical questions, as already described in the other comments. But, as with the poor character development, they do not grow in breadth or depth as the story unfolds. As a result, we do not gain a more detailed or nuanced understanding of “dignity,” “honor,” or “loyalty,” all key concepts of the novel. Many interesting questions crop up during the group discussion near the end, touching on democracy, individual rights, political participation, etc., but they receive no further treatment by the author; they are simply left there. I am mindful that this is a novel and not a philosophical text, but it seems to me that if the author decides to include them in the story, he ought to do something with them. I feel that this is a missed opportunity.
Third, the historical and political background. This is a story that Ishiguro, a Japanese-British citizen, wrote in the 1980s about a butler ruminating in the 1950s about his life in the 1920s! This is a tremendously complicated background, which includes the recent end of WWI, the rise and victory of German Nazism, WWII, the Holocaust, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the surrender of Japan, and, perhaps the most relevant for the story, the collapse of the British Empire. It’s hard to find a more eventful historical period. And to be even more precise, the story opened in July, 1956, just three months before the Suez Crisis. The author must have picked this period for good reasons. But, again, I am disappointed that he didn’t do more with this rich historical background than Darlington’s unwitting involvement with the Nazis.
Finally, the choice of narrative strategy. My feelings are very unclear about this issue. When i was reading the novel, my mind kept comparing it with Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. While both stories deal with life of the English aristocracy at around the same time, one is written in the 20s and the other in the 80s. Interestingly, Mrs. Dalloway feel in every way the more “modern” novel and The Remains like a throwback to the Victorian novels of the 19th Century. This, of course, is not a matter of evaluation but, rather, just an observation. The more pertinent point here is that Woolf’s novel is all about the interior life of the consciousness of the characters, while Ishiguro’s novel is told exclusively through external words and deeds. I think I understand why Ishiguru chose this particular narrative strategy but, at the same time, I can’t help wondering whether a glimpse of Mrs. Stevens’ inner life would have made the novel richer. Did he have to undergo any inner struggles, emotionally or intellectually, at any time during the story? Perhaps I’m hoping for a bit more humanity in the main character so that it could be more multidimensional. But, as I said, my feelings are mixed on this.
It’s a fine line whether the novel is understated or underwritten. In any case, we all have to decide for ourselves which side we come down on.
I agree that appreciation for this book is enhanced by age. That point where there are more years behind than ahead. Few of us can say all those years were spent on the ideal. Few of us, if we are honest with ourselves, have zero regrets in our pasts from work to relationships. We, however, do have to find a way forward by honoring our past with all its flaws and triumphs to find peace moving forward, especially when forward usually means stepping away from the work we’ve done most of our lives. We meet Mr. Stevens at the beginning of his end.
I agree that we must all find "a way forward by honoring our past with all its flaws and triumphs." Nevertheless, my reservations about Mr. Stevens stem from two reasons. First, he doesn't seem to recognize the possible flaws in his past and continues to live in his world of self-deception and rationalizations. Second, the author gives us no indication to believe that Stevens would step away from the work he's been doing for his whole life; on the contrary, I get the impression that he is in a hurry to get back to butlering with his new skill of bantering! The central question I'm posing is this: now that he has reached this late stage in his life and profession, what, if any, lesson has Mr. Stevens learned from his life story?
Spot on with this. Stevens is showing us the wrong way to go about this life crossroad, but he is doing it in the only way he knows how. He must, above all else, be the very best butler… fashioned on an ideal that no longer exists. Possibly never existed.
My marginalia on the last page are great. 2nd to last paragraph, banter as the "key to human warmth" I wrote "**Snapping out of it!" and then an arrow to the final paragraph, "aaaand we're back"
It reads as a reflection on the changing nature of work in postwar England, now subservient to the USA, almost as a eulogy for the lost Empire: Darlington's godson says "the American was right"; Stevens drives his master's Ford car around (something about Henry Ford holding ideals resembling those of Nazis and Darlington being a hapless abetter might be worth unpacking?); Stevens accepts the need to banter American-style. The old butler of the old aristocracy of the old culture is gone.
As a person jaded on politics and "civic action" or whatever, I like the bits with the townfolk who are not interested in being "worked up over issues" and just want to l live their "quiet little lives." Stevens was enamored with being close to matters of "a global significance" irrespective of what those matters were. And in so doing lost his own way.
Other thoughts:
p. 207, "I must confess my overwhelming feeling on [being recognized as a butler] was one of relief" His pride is in his profession.
p. 237 calls back to p. 173 when Miss Kenton again asks what the future holds, and he again says "work, work, and more work."
I love this novel, and I actually think the ending places Stevens as an existential hero. Just like his master and Miss Kenton (and many of us), he's spent his life in service of an ideal that has eventually disappointed him. We see at the end though that he forgives himself, and strives to pick up whatever remains of the day, learn how to joke with his new master, and strive for new connection.
I remember what Arendt said about forgiveness being a core part of politics, because our best intentions can always lead to unknown outcomes. I feel Stevens embodies this forgiveness, and the fact he chooses to pick himself up, change, and keep living is ironically what I think is core to the idea of "Dignity" that he's always looking for. He never seemed more dignified to me than at the end, facing his mistakes and carrying on.
There's a good chance all of us will face feelings of wasting years of our life making wrong decisions or going down the wrong path. As we get older will we be destroyed by our well intended mistakes like Lord Darlington, or will we confront them, and move forward with what remains of the day?
I haven't had anything to say in the discussion for Remains of the Day, but I really enjoyed it. The only Ishiguro book I had read before this one was The Buried Giant, which I didn't really care for. But after reading Remains of the Day, I'll certainly try reading another Ishiguro book, probably Klara and the Sun.
There's a lesson in this book that I think one needs to have made a few mistakes to recognize.
There's often an urge to simply go with the flow, to continue the path that you feel has been set out for you. The Remains of the Day is a cautionary tale, a reminder that tying one's self worth to anything external is dangerous. The truth is, if we believe Stevens' narration, he is truly an incredible butler, absolutely deserving of the status of "great butler" he covets. But that doesn't make him a happy man, despite what he may claim. Having fallen into this trap at least once so far, this lesson hits particularly hard for me. When the pursuit of excellence in a field comes at the expense of personal joys, it's easy to rationalize the wrong choice.