The passage which we did not take – “The Remains of the Day”

By Emilia Birch

Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day is a quietly heartbreaking examination of the weight of legacy and the damage it can cause. 

Ishiguro’s protagonist, Stevens, is a butler whose life has been shaped by the pressures of his professional legacy. On the surface he appears unshakeable; he has spent his life building an almost impenetrable facade, and he clearly takes great pride in his work and its historic tradition. Yet, as he nears the end of a long career, Stevens’ thoughts have become increasingly preoccupied with the past, and the different choices he could have made. As he looks back, he gradually begins to wonder if his all-consuming dedication to his profession, and the sacrifices he has made for it (most importantly his chance at love) have all been a waste. He has repressed his emotions to such an extent that he can hardly admit this to himself. The novel is a subtle but profoundly moving study of a decision to prioritise status and ego over connection and vulnerability.

He cannot escape the fact that the role he has spent his life trying to perfect is becoming obsolete

We find Stevens at a loose end, discontented, lonely, and with little to occupy himself. Following the death of the disgraced Lord Darlington, the house is taken over by Mr Farraday a wealthy American businessman. Farraday appears to be both perplexed and amused by the butler and his excessively formal behaviour, parading him in front of visitors as a relic from the past. Beneath his excessive dignity, Stevens is a frustrating, deeply repressed, and (sometimes) accidentally comedic character. He sees it as a failure of his professional duty that he cannot, as he describes it, “banter” with Mr Farraday when his employer teases him, resolving to learn how to make witty comebacks with limited success. Stevens can hardly admit it, but he cannot escape the fact that the role he has spent his life trying to perfect is becoming obsolete, while his career has become overshadowed by the scandals surrounding the late Lord Darlington. 

The novel follows Stevens as he takes a rare holiday, travelling to visit the former housekeeper of Darlington Hall. He hopes to convince her to return to work after finding hints in a letter that her marriage has broken down. Rather tellingly, he insists on referring to her by maiden name, Miss Kenton, throughout. As he reflects back on his career in service, he recalls first with characteristic smugness, and then a growing sense of doubt, how he chose to always remain professional and dignified rather than allowing his romantic feelings for Miss Kenton become known. 

In these flashbacks, Miss Kenton seems fully aware of Stevens’ feelings. She is an impressive character, at turns obstinate, vulnerable, and sarcastic. “I really cannot imagine what more you might wish for in life.” She tells Stevens coolly as they discuss his professional success. While Miss Kenton is more than a match for his stubborn formality, Stevens thinks of inter-staff relationships as improper, and well beneath his status as butler. No matter how much he desires love and connection, it is always his profession, and his attempts at being worthy of its legacy, that he prioritises. 

Gradually, he gains a vulnerability which is hard not to sympathise with, as he realises how much he regrets the way he has spent his life

It can be difficult to recognise what Miss Kenton sees in Stevens, who is not, initially, a sympathetic character. His narration is convoluted and his emotions deeply repressed. His true feelings have to be deciphered; the few times he cannot help crying, we only find out from the reactions of those around him. His mistakes result from his own stubbornness and blind loyalty, driven on by the immense pressure of his professional legacy. He defends Lord Darlington’s antisemitic firing of two Jewish members of staff, because he cannot bring himself to fault his employer. He idolises his father and the legacy that he too has built as a butler, but he chooses to wait on guests downstairs than be with him when he dies. And it is painful to read as, again and again, he chooses a stiff upper-lipped professionalism over his chance of a relationship with Miss Kenton, repeatedly ignoring any hint of the advances she makes until she gives up and marries someone else. 

Even as Stevens recounts these stories, it takes paragraphs of deliberating for him to even begin to admit his errors. But gradually, he gains a vulnerability which is hard not to sympathise with, as he realises how much he regrets the way he has spent his life. 

‘The Remains of the Day’ shows legacy at its worst, as a weight struggled to be borne. It is a gently profound tragedy of what might have been, how some sacrifices are made in vain, and how easily love can be lost.

Image Credit: Theodore Earl Butler (Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)