Post by Brad Nelson on Mar 7, 2021 11:08:53 GMT -8
Did I ever see the movie, Remains of the Day, with Anthony Hopkins as the butler? I don’t recall exactly. I think I did and I think I was bored by it.
This is a book (I borrowed it from my local online library via the Libby app) following the life and thought processes of a classic English Butler, Mr. Stevens. That it is written by a guy named Kazuo Ishiguro proves that he has clearly committed the crime of cultural appropriation. All here will understand that I’m joking, but in six months would anyone outside of our group know this?
Still, it’s astonishing that a presumably Japanese man would have made such a (presumably) precise study of the craft of English butlering. This synopsis at Amazon rounds it out:
I’m nearing (if not past) the two-thirds mark of the book so it’s not too soon to pass judgment. Although this is far dryer than most could stand, I thought it was subtly compelling. This is not an Upstairs/Downstairs or Downton Abbey look at the English aristocracy and the conflicts of running a big house, although you get some of that. It’s more the story of a man who has totally given himself over to his role as butler. We Americans surely will cringe as we see Mr. Stevens dispense with the better parts of himself in order to serve the needs of his master.
Or maybe such service is the better part of himself. Or it’s something in between. There are (so far) no easy answers, just some sometimes painful observations of what Mr. Stevens has given up even while attaining the status of the pinnacle of his craft. But (so far) the author sidesteps such easy labels as calling the man a “repressed butler,” as one reviewer did. In the age when women are killing their babies and “repressing” natural motherhood by the millions, most current reviewers are not qualified to use that term.
But certainly Mr. Steven, in his role as butler, puts the needs of his master and the house above his own personal inclinations. Or, one could say, those have become his personal inclinations.
Whether the writer cops out with some kind of punchline at the end of this, I don’t know. But so far it’s been an interesting, if subtle, story. And it’s mostly told in a series of reminiscences as Mr. Stevens spends that day on a country drive away from Darlington Hall.
This is a book (I borrowed it from my local online library via the Libby app) following the life and thought processes of a classic English Butler, Mr. Stevens. That it is written by a guy named Kazuo Ishiguro proves that he has clearly committed the crime of cultural appropriation. All here will understand that I’m joking, but in six months would anyone outside of our group know this?
Still, it’s astonishing that a presumably Japanese man would have made such a (presumably) precise study of the craft of English butlering. This synopsis at Amazon rounds it out:
This is Kazuo Ishiguro's profoundly compelling portrait of Stevens, the perfect butler, and of his fading, insular world in post-World War II England. Stevens, at the end of three decades of service at Darlington Hall, spending a day on a country drive, embarks as well on a journey through the past in an effort to reassure himself that he has served humanity by serving the "great gentleman," Lord Darlington. But lurking in his memory are doubts about the true nature of Lord Darlington's "greatness," and much graver doubts about the nature of his own life.
I’m nearing (if not past) the two-thirds mark of the book so it’s not too soon to pass judgment. Although this is far dryer than most could stand, I thought it was subtly compelling. This is not an Upstairs/Downstairs or Downton Abbey look at the English aristocracy and the conflicts of running a big house, although you get some of that. It’s more the story of a man who has totally given himself over to his role as butler. We Americans surely will cringe as we see Mr. Stevens dispense with the better parts of himself in order to serve the needs of his master.
Or maybe such service is the better part of himself. Or it’s something in between. There are (so far) no easy answers, just some sometimes painful observations of what Mr. Stevens has given up even while attaining the status of the pinnacle of his craft. But (so far) the author sidesteps such easy labels as calling the man a “repressed butler,” as one reviewer did. In the age when women are killing their babies and “repressing” natural motherhood by the millions, most current reviewers are not qualified to use that term.
But certainly Mr. Steven, in his role as butler, puts the needs of his master and the house above his own personal inclinations. Or, one could say, those have become his personal inclinations.
Whether the writer cops out with some kind of punchline at the end of this, I don’t know. But so far it’s been an interesting, if subtle, story. And it’s mostly told in a series of reminiscences as Mr. Stevens spends that day on a country drive away from Darlington Hall.