A review by kylephelps
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

5.0

At first glance, The Remains of the Day seems like a quiet story, a reflection on duty, restraint, and lost time. But as I moved through the first quarter of the novel, I found myself feeling a deep sympathy for Stevens, the reserved English butler at the center of the story. His meticulous efforts to teach himself the art of banter, practicing conversations with an almost painful formality, stood in stark contrast to my own experiences, making me reflect on the ways we each learn to navigate social spaces.

And yet, as the narrative unfolded, I found myself connecting with Stevens in ways that were both unexpected and deeply personal. I’ve never been a butler, of course, but having spent much of my teens and twenties in the service industry, I couldn’t help but recognize echoes of my own experiences in his quiet dedication, his deference, and the peculiar intimacy of serving others.

It’s been a long time since a book has so thoroughly overturned my initial ambivalence. What began as a restrained, even distant opening turned into a deeply moving exploration of identity and regret. These are characters so exquisitely drawn that they feel real, lingering in my mind long after I’ve closed the final pages. This is a story that doesn’t just sweep you off your feet, it will stay with you, a quiet companion that you’ll return to again and again.