So caught up in the narrative I was: Remains of the day

**spoilers**

I finished it while camping at Capitol Reef National park, the full lit stars above while sitting next to the fire. The ending (even though I knew it was coming as I've seen the movie) absolutely floored me emotionally. Maybe because I always feel a bit vulnerable when camping and this was heightened with our recent family struggles. Yet even without all of that it's quite a resounding finish.

The structure of the novel intrigues me. It's like a section of a symphony which tumbles along, no big surprises, no major key shifts until the very end. And the ending, of course, is not much in of itself, but in the context of the plodding, careful exposition of Mr Stevens, it bursts forth, trumpets sounding as Miss Kenton and Mr. Stevens stand waiting for the bus.

All that history--WWII, the meaning of dignity, and his working relationship with Miss Kenton--and then finally the release, the truth as Mr. Stevens uncharacteristically prods her to reveal her emotional state: "one is rather mystified as to the cause of your unhappiness" to which she eventually replies "I suppose...you're asking whether or not I love my husband." Of course he demures, "Really, Mrs Benn, I would hardly presume...." But she insists on answering, "Yes I do love my husband. I didn't at first...When I left Darlington Hall all those years ago, I never realized I was really...leaving. I believe I thought of it as a simply another ruse, Mr. Stevens, to annoy you."

And even at this point Ishiguro languidly reveals what the reader knows, hopes is coming--just hints, unacknowledged. Then finally we get "For instance, I get to thinking about a life I may have had with you, Mr. Stevens." Of course he maintains his dignity, "You really mustn't let any more foolish ideas come between yourself and the happiness you deserve." At that point I'm both frustrated and yet filled with admiration for his character--it seems he was wrong years ago but right at this point to let it go, to let her go.

Reading their exchange at the bus stop felt, for me, like experiencing the high point of Beethoven's 9th symphony, all the themes coming together, my chest heaving as if my emotions were going to spill on to the floor. I even had to stop for a bit to take a breath, so caught up in the narrative I was. Warmed my hands on the fire, then walked around a bit, even started a Barbara Kingsolver novel, wanting to save the last few pages of Mr Stevens' life. But then I couldn't put it off. And what a reward as he ironically and finally finally admits to a stranger on the bench, "I find I do not have a great deal more left to give" and later, "As for myself, I cannot even claim that. You see, I trusted. I trusted in his lordship's wisdom. All those years I served him...I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really--one has to ask oneself--what dignity is there in that?"

The dignity theme comes full circle and I hurt for old Mr. Stevens--damn the missed opportunities. Admittedly I'm not quite sure what to do with the last couple of pages where we get the title of the novel as he takes the advice of the stranger on the bench that the "evening is the best part of the day" to which Mr. Stevens accepts and decides to stop looking back, to not dwell in the regrets but rather to "adopt a more positive outlook and try to make the best of what remains of my day."

As a reader I'm fine with this turn, with this insight, but I struggle with how Mr. Stevens applies this insight by recommitting himself to Mr Farraday, the American "lord," by practicing his "bantering skills." I wanted more from Mr. Stevens. Not for him to go after Miss Kenton, but something more. Maybe to at least admit his love for her. Though maybe he has done that through his actions. Or maybe to simply leave the clothing of the butler for the remains of his days. Possibly I expect too much.