Ultimately, what do we have to gain by constantly reflecting on the past, blaming ourselves for the fact that our lives did not turn out as we would have liked?

Kazuo Ishiguro paints with his pen the poignant portrait of Stevens, the perfect butler, and his world, which fades in the aftermath of World War II. Stevens, after decades of service at Darlington Hall, alone one day in the English countryside, embarks on a journey into the past in an attempt to reassure himself that he has served humanity by offering his services to the "great moral stature gentleman," Lord Darlington. However, in his memory lurk doubts about the true nature of Lord Darlington's "greatness," and even greater doubts about the nature of his own life.

A modern classic novel, a beautiful reminiscence of life between two wars in an English manor, a captivating invocation of lost dreams and lost loves.

It seems that the chances are increasing that I will take the trip which, for some days now, has captured my imagination. A trip which, I must mention, I will take alone, in the comfort of Mr. Farraday’s Ford; a trip which, as expected, for most of the journey, will lead me through the most beautiful locations of the English countryside to the western counties, and may even keep me away from Darlington Hall for up to five or six days. The idea for this trip arose, I must point out, after Mr. Farraday’s kind suggestion about two weeks ago, while I was dusting the portraits in the library. In fact, as far as I recall, I was standing on a small ladder dusting the portrait of Viscount Weatherby when my employer entered the room carrying several volumes which, apparently, he wanted to return to their places on the library shelves. As soon as he saw me, he seized the opportunity to inform me that his plans to return to the United States for five weeks, during the period between August and September, had just been finalized.

Having made this announcement, my employer placed his books on a table, sat on the chaise longue, and stretched out his legs. That was when, raising his eyes to look at me, he spoke. “You realize, Stevens, that I don’t expect you to stay shut up in this house the whole time I’m away. Why don’t you take the car and go somewhere for a few days? You seem to need a break.” This was said so suddenly that I didn’t know how to respond to such a suggestion. I remember thanking him for his concern, but I probably didn’t give any specific answer, as my employer continued: “I’m serious, Stevens. I think you should take a break. I’ll cover the cost of the petrol. With the work you do, always shut up in these big houses, how are you ever to get the chance to see this beautiful country of yours?”