Completed January 2021
THE REMAINS
OF THE DAY
For the first third or so of this book I found myself wondering when the story was going to begin.
I could feel the tension building, but in a gentle pace without the urgency I was expecting to arise. Every chapter, I braced myself for the twist – the revelation, the scandal, the drama.
But it never came, and I am grateful for that. Because somewhere within the winding anecdotes and the extended monologues on dignity and loyalty, I realised I was completely absorbed. No longer was I expecting the big, climactic moment – instead, I was savouring the delectably tiny ones.
The Remains of the Day was never meant to align obediently to a conflict arc, but instead tread its own, meandering path. And so it is with the life of the protagonist. Mr Stevens reflects on how existence is shaped not by defining moments (as often portrayed), but by a series of humble decisions which pass us by without us realising their importance. These fleeting choices are what combine into everything we have, and everything we are. The story forces us to confront this reality head on, grappling with its consequences as Stevens does.
It felt like I was piecing together this understanding with him, the separation of decades and reality between us feeling flimsy compared to the clarity of his voice on the page. As the novel began to come to a close I found myself conscious of the ever dwindling pages – slowing down to savour each and every word.
The conclusion was poignant, the story persistent in its embrace of harsh truth. And as much as I felt myself resisting, I had to admit it was beautiful, and necessary.
“But then, I suppose, when with the benefit of hindsight one begins to search one’s past for such ‘turning points’, one is apt to start seeing them everywhere.”