That which is hidden
Jul. 5th, 2008 06:46 pmRemains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
This is the second of Ishiguro’s novels that I’ve read, and I continue to be amazed by his gift for telling a story exclusively from the viewpoint of his protagonist, which at the same time, shows the reader all that the protagonist does not know, or will not see, and lets the reader consider issues that the protagonist can not, or will not, examine for himself.
It’s an amazing technique, and it parallels human experience so fully – we all see more than we know, are shown and told more than we can, or choose to, understand – that to read such a novel almost forces one to turn around and ask oneself, “What are the realities of my life that I have ignored, set aside, denied? What are the things I’ve refused to think about, to question, to unveil, lest they unsettle my view of the world? What should I know about myself and the world around me that I’ve been afraid to see?”
One striking issue that is common to both novels I’ve read – Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go – is how Ishiguro slowly but completely and, to the reader, devastatingly, reveals the ways in which his protagonists are exploited and oppressed, and taught to be proud of their willing and enthusiastic participation in their own oppression.
The Remains of the Day is many things, depending on how you look at it: it is the story of a man who sacrifices love for duty, it is an insightful exploration of the British class system, it is a caution against the ease with which fascism can creep into the heart of any democracy, it is a textbook on how to subvert the instinct to rebel among an oppressed class. And it is brilliant.