Kazuo Ishiguro celebrates the power of memories

Memory is a fickle friend. There are moments in our lives that we return to often, just as there are experiences we would much rather forget. As we grow older, memory becomes more frail and fractured, and more valuable.

Memory is also a tricky story-telling device since it is flawed by nature. It relies heavily on a biased report from the source and can, oftentimes, be skewed or incomplete.

But in the hands of a master like Nobel Prize in Literature laureate Kazuo Ishiguro, memory becomes a powerful and tantalizing narrative tool.

The publication this month of "Klara and the Sun" (March 2021 Faber & Faber), provides an excellent backdrop to revisit his earlier works.

It is his first novel since being awarded the Nobel Prize in 2017. 

Ishiguro wrestles with the nature of memory and its attendant emotions in many of his critically-acclaimed books. He allows the narrator to tell their tales from obviously fractured recollections, making his readers either participants in perpetuating the truths being peddled, or sceptics wary of what may well be self-serving confessions.

His signature writing style is so confessional, it's almost as though his characters are confiding their innermost feelings to us, the way someone would do with a close friend, a diary, or a therapist.

While "A Pale View of Hills" (1982, Faber & Faber) is an ode to leaving the past behind, it delves into the uncomfortable territory of how people sort through and process painful memories.

A personal tragedy forces Etsuko, now living in a quaint rural English town, to recall a summer many years ago when she was living in Nagasaki. At that time, World War 2 had just ended and Nagasaki was in the midst of rebuilding after the atomic bomb laid waste to the city in 1945.

Her recollections of this summer dwelt particularly on her strange friendship with neighbor Sachiko and her daughter Mariko. Disconcerting details emerge as Etsuko relates the story to her own daughter years later, and we wonder if there is more to these memories than meets the eye.

"A Pale View of Hills" explores the fragility of a mind which has seen much trauma. It is a haunting tale about how our minds can trick us into accepting a certain version of events to cope with intense emotional pain.

"The Remains of the Day’"(1989, Faber & Faber) is Ishiguro’s Man Booker Prize-winning novel and his most celebrated work to date. It centers around Darlington Hall, the great English countryside estate which figured prominently in events leading up to World War 2.  It tells the tale of how its occupants, in particular the long-time butler, Stevens, deals with the fallout of the maelstrom of controversy which descends on the estate to which he gave his best years of service.

The novel’s plot is remarkably straightforward. There is no unsettling undercurrent other than what the author has made plainly visible: the storm clouds of war gathering on the horizon. And easily, "The Remains of the Day" is Ishiguro’s most beautifully written and poignant novel.

His lyrical prose and seamless weaving of grand geopolitical events with an intimate portrait of the minutiae at Darlington Hall are evidence of a writer at the height of his powers. Steven’s recollections, deeply influenced by the unfolding events at Darlington Hall, are intentionally flawed and self-serving. In the final analysis, however, we accept that people can and do compartmentalize their memories in order to emotionally distance themselves from painful or confusing experiences.

"When We Were Orphans" (2000, Faber & Faber) examines celebrated detective Christopher Banks’ efforts to discover the truth about his parents’ disappearance when he was a child growing up in Shanghai. While he makes a name for himself as a private investigator in the United Kingdom, solving crimes which have long stumped the police, he faces a different struggle in piecing together his own memories in order to solve his most challenging and deeply personal cold case.

Ishiguro deftly builds our emotional investment in Christopher’s past, keenly aware that this will impact our reaction as a reader to his eventual catharsis. In this way, ‘When We Were Orphans’ is a clear-eyed, penetrating look at how powerful longings and a deep-seated desire to firmly hold onto cherished but fading memories can skew our view of reality.

As we follow Christopher’s investigation, we are oftentimes unsettled by the realization that his reality is not just colored by his memories, but is defined by them.

"Never Let Me Go" (2005, Faber & Faber) returns to Ishiguro’s favorite setting: the idyllic English countryside. We find the mysterious Kathy H. recalling events from three decades ago, when she and her friends were at the Hailsham boarding school.

Ishiguro sets up the premise slowly but effectively. He allows us to believe we are reading a simple coming-of-age novel, and that perhaps the main point of the story is young people finding identity and purpose. 

But as is Ishiguro’s trademark, there is some portentous and eerie truth lurking behind this serene façade. Only by the end of the first third of the novel do we encounter the reality of what Hailsham is, and the cruel fate which awaits all of its students.

In "Never Let Me Go," Kathy H. uses her memories of early life, her relationships with her best friends Tommy and Ruth, and fond memories of her Hailsham years to fortify her resolve to face an unjust future. She is also unburdening herself, sorting through both happy and painful memories in order to find peace so that she may, like Tommy and Ruth before her, accept and perhaps even give herself with abandon to this fate which awaits her.

Memory can be seductive. Tinged with sentiment and nostalgia, memory provides us a soothing, if temporary, balm. But coupled with introspection, memory can provide us with the benefit of hindsight. It can enable us to learn from mistakes, arming us with clear sight, and empowering us to face our present and whatever may lie ahead.

As Stevens, the butler in "The Remains of the Day" so eloquently put it, "perhaps, then, there is something to his advice that I should cease looking back so much, that I should adopt a more positive outlook and try to make the best of what remains of my day." — LA, GMA News

About the authors: Rory J. Bolivar is a registered microbiologist, educator, and writer. Robespierre L. Bolivar is the recipient of the Gawad Mabini, one of the highest Presidential honors bestowed upon Filipino diplomats. Follow them on Instagram @robroryreads and visit their website.