Catching up

I.
I read The Remains of the Day a while ago, since I had a copy of it and was compelled by Nerzhin's post about Ishiguro. This is a deeply sad, fascinating book.

When the narrator writes, you get the idea of a detached intelligence maneuvering a separate physical entity. Mr. Stevens doesn't talk about getting out of the way; he speaks of moving his "person" into a more convenient location.

Whenever he comes close to expressing his own real feelings, Mr. Stevens slips into the third person. "Naturally, one disapproved of the dismissals." One cannot underestimate the difficulty some people have admitting they have feelings -- and this is what makes the book's ending so powerful. When Mr. Stevens says a sentence that would be banal and idiotic coming from anyone else, it's devastating. One wonders if the author wrote the whole book to show how much meaning that one trite phrase could have in the right hands.

This book could be read as a condemnation of someone who suppresses their feelings. That seemed to be the impression of my peers when we saw the movie in high school. But I think, in a way, Mr. Stevens's professional convictions are actually very strong feelings that get out of hand. It's not that he's cold and rigid; he just gives his heart away to the wrong thing. He was as irresponsible, in his stodgy loyal way, as every starry-eyed romantic youth.

This butler is not all pitiable. One admires his analysis of his life and his place in the world. He was so painstaking and careful in his expressions, and I thought he was admirable in his beliefs about dignity and greatness. It just all went really wrong.

II.
I recently finished The Great Influenza, recommended by a doctor on my employer's Avian Flu Task Force. It was very interesting, and I brushed up my knowledge about hemagluttinin and neuraminidase, which was getting decidedly rusty (oh, all right, my knowledge of them before this book was null. But I am looking for an excuse to bring them up because they're the H and the N in H5N1, which I think is worth knowing. And they have really cool shapes).

I was sort of disappointed by the framing of the story. I kind of thought it was the story of the disease, and thus at the end we would have some exciting description of how we found out what we know now about the flu. During the entire pandemic of 1918-1919 they never figured out exactly what it was, and that seemed to be one of the elements of suspense. But then when they actually do discover it was a virus it's mentioned almost as an aside in a couple paragraphs with no fanfare and no dramatic descriptions of test tubes or bunsen burners or lab coats or anything.

I could have done with less of the sensational writing about the political atmosphere, although I suppose it's better to get mildly annoyed and keep reading than be bored out of one's skull and never finish the book. The author does well with suspenseful hooks to make you want to read on.

It's weird that such a boring and normal disease could still be such a threat. I'm not living in desperate fear of the avian flu, but it's clear that we really don't have that much control over influenza whenever it may mutate into an especially destructive form, as it does from time to time. But it will still be only one of an endless variety of ways to die. We can be comforted by that.