The Space Between

After our discussion about physical and mental distance, vantage points, and the vistas achieved at those heights, I couldn’t help but continue reading Ishiguro’s novel with a little nagging ‘distance’ sensor in my brain. Let’s just say I got quite a lot of use out of it.

The exact nature of the correlation between the physicalities of traveling and the narrator’s emotion trends is rather ambiguous in my mind. It’s very clear that they have some sort of relationship - as Stevens meanders across the country, the instances of leisurely reflection become moments of true introspection and, by the end, of judgement. It seems that the farther Stevens progresses physically, the more his rememberings pierce the veneer of emotional indifference. As I read on, I began to view Stevens’ emotional journey and physical journey as parallel paths – he begins at the Darlington House, holding dear to his dignity, professionalism, and clothes of emotional aloofness, and ends in a comfortable (but not luxurious) hotel lobby with Ms. Kenton, offering the reader more insight than ever into his emotions of the present and reflecting on those of the past. It seems that hindsight truly is 20-20, and that distance offers Stevens the perspective necessary to connect (mentally) with situations in ways he hadn’t been able to previously.

I’m curious, however, about certain points in the narrative which indicate that Stevens is ’stepping forward for closer inspection’; they seem to offer a different meaning to the ‘vantage point’. For instance, his first pit-stop offered him a lovely view of England from a promontory, which affirmed his belief that greatness is a product of restraint. Later on, an unfortunate lack of petrol forces him to descend from the top of a hill into a village (162). With his descent, Stevens leaves a place devoid of other humans and enters a relatively congenial environment, peopled by Average Joes (and Harrys), where expressing opinions and feelings is not out of the norm. Taking these intersections of height and expression into account, it seems that while distance offers Stevens perspective on the nature of his emotions, height (which can presumably be applied to status on the social ladder, or proximity to the hub of the wheel) separates him from the grounded level of expressing one’s emotions.

Stevens also has a habit of lapsing into the impersonal pronoun whenever he is in danger of emoting – a notable example arises when he realizes that he will be seeing Ms. Kenton soon [211] ). Is this some sort of defense mechanism, to absolve himself of the responsibility of emotions? If it is, it’s echoed in his employer’s roundabout admittance of wrongdoing (151); “what happened” was wrong, rather than “what he did”. In any case, with Stevens’ shedding of his costume and emotional detachment comes the acceptance of personal involvement in all the events he has detailed for the reader – the acceptance of ‘I’. 

Sorry for the long post :-/

- Manjula Raman

~ by mraman on March 12, 2008.