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- <text id=89TT2875>
- <title>
- Oct. 30, 1989: Upstairs, Downstairs
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
- Oct. 30, 1989 San Francisco Earthquake
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- BOOKS, Page 90
- Upstairs, Downstairs
- </hdr><body>
- <p>By Paul Gray
- </p>
- <qt> <l>THE REMAINS OF THE DAY</l>
- <l>by Kazuo Ishiguro</l>
- <l>Knopf; 245 pages; $18.95</l>
- </qt>
- <p> For many people, the idea of the great houses of Britain
- induces reveries of a civilized Eden. Never mind that most of
- these establishments are now defunct or shells of their former
- selves; the graceful existence they once accommodated,
- celebrated in novels and films, lives on. Morning strolls across
- rolling lawns, with tatters of mist clinging to the ancient oaks
- and hedgerows. Inside, an assembly of witty weekend guests. Tea
- at 4; whisky and soda at 6. A sumptuous meal, with candlelight
- glancing off starched white shirtfronts, bare shoulders and
- glittering jewelry. Port and cigars, conversation and billiards.
- And then to bed.
- </p>
- <p> This fantasy, not to mention the reality it enhances, pays
- little heed to the army of underlings who made these idle
- splendors possible. In The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
- tries to right that imbalance: he reconstructs in fiction the
- world of a stately home in its heyday, between the two world
- wars, from the point of view of a butler.
- </p>
- <p> Ishiguro's mastery of this subject and its proper tone are
- uncanny. Born in Nagasaki in 1954, he was brought to England
- with his family six years later and educated there. His two
- earlier novels were set in Japan, but this one displays a sure
- grasp of another island culture -- England's -- that has been
- notoriously impervious to outsiders and immigrants. Furthermore,
- the young author writes with assurance about events that took
- place before he was born, and he does so in the utterly
- convincing voice of an aging Englishman.
- </p>
- <p> Stevens has been the butler at Darlington Hall in
- Oxfordshire since 1922. It is now 1956, and his new employer,
- an American named Mr. Farraday, encourages the butler to take
- a brief vacation in the owner's vintage Ford. Stevens hesitantly
- agrees. Running Darlington Hall with a staff of four, which Mr.
- Farraday has requested, as opposed to the 17 assistants Stevens
- once supervised, has been hard on his nerves. A drive to the
- West Country might do him good. Besides, Stevens has received
- a letter from Miss Kenton, the housekeeper who resigned in 1936
- to be married, revealing that she has left her husband. He will
- see her in Cornwall, encourage her to return to her old position
- and thus combine pleasure with business.
- </p>
- <p> Ostensibly, Stevens sets out to write an account of his
- motor trip. But he tells a story that he only begins to
- understand when it and his journey are all but over. He cannot
- forget Lord Darlington, dead now three years, the gentleman whom
- he served for so long. He defends his late master against the
- initially unspecified "utter nonsense" that has been written and
- spoken about him since the end of World War II. And he fusses
- over the attributes that create a "great" butler, finally coming
- up with a definition that satisfies him: "And let me now posit
- this: `dignity' has to do crucially with a butler's ability not
- to abandon the professional being he inhabits."
- </p>
- <p> By this standard, Stevens has succeeded admirably. He looks
- back with pride to the "turning point" in his life, the 1923
- conference arranged by Lord Darlington to persuade an array of
- international guests to ease or repeal the postwar penalties on
- Germany. While his father, an underbutler at Darlington Hall,
- lies in his room dying of a stroke, Stevens serves after-dinner
- drinks with tears streaming down his face. Told that his
- father's struggle is over, he responds, "Miss Kenton, please
- don't think me unduly improper in not ascending to see my father
- in his deceased condition just at this moment. You see, I know
- my father would have wished me to carry on just now."
- </p>
- <p> His professional armor also protects him against Miss
- Kenton, who occasionally grows more familiar with him than
- propriety allows and who seems to tease him with accounts of her
- suitor in a nearby village. When she tells him she has accepted
- a proposal, he congratulates her and goes on about his work.
- This may have been the occasion, it now occurs to him, on which
- he heard her crying behind a closed door.
- </p>
- <p> Eventually, even someone as composed as Stevens cannot
- fight off the burden of his memories. He has given his life to
- a man who was at best a well-meaning ninny and, at worst, during
- the '30s, a dupe of the Nazis. Stevens' devotion to an imposed
- role drove Miss Kenton into the arms of her second choice. He
- breaks into tears at the end: "I can't even say I made my own
- mistakes. Really -- one has to ask oneself -- what dignity is
- there in that?"
- </p>
- <p> The answer is, oddly enough, plenty. The Remains of the Day
- may be an insidious indictment of the British class system. It
- is also a remarkably textured tribute to those -- upstairs,
- downstairs -- who brought the whole show off with such
- convincing, if illusory, panache.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
-