I’ve been bitten by the book-event bug that’s going around. It’s such a fun way to get an idea of what a book is all about or to get other interesting insights into books.
Bibliophile By the Sea is hosting the First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros which involves sharing the first paragraph or even two, from a book that we are currently reading. Head over there for a great bunch of intros that other bloggers are providing.
I’ve started reading Kazuo Ishiguro’s – The Remains of the Day. It’s been a while since I’ve bought this book. Somehow I never got down to reading it and it has been passed on among my friends and family. It landed back in my hands a couple of months back. The strangest thing is that I’ve been looking forward to reading it for a long time. You know that feeling, when you get something delicious and don’t want to start eating it because that marks the beginning of the end. That has exactly been my problem with this book. I’ve been practically salivating over it and yet it remained unread. Anyway, I couldn’t keep prolonging the agony, so I started reading, and it is a marvellous tale which I’m enjoying at the slowest pace. Fans of Downton Abbey will love this since it features the life in a majestic English House in the period between the wars, as seen through the eyes of a butler. Apparently it has also seen success when adapted into a movie starring the amazing Anthony Hopkins and Emma Watson. So here’s the first paragraph :
PROLOGUE : JULY 1956 – Darlington Hall
It seems increasingly likely that I really will undertake the expedition that has been preoccupying my imagination now for some days. An expedition, I should say, which I will undertake alone, in the comfort of Mr.Farraday’s Ford; an expedition which, as I foresee it, will take me through much of the finest countryside of England to the West Country, and may keep me away from Darlington Hall for as much as five or six days. The idea of such a journey came about, I should point out, from a most kind suggestion put to me by Mr Farraday himself one afternoon almost a fortnight ago, when I had been dusting the portraits in the library. In fact as I recall, I was up on the step-ladder dusting the portrait of Viscount Wetherby when my employer had entered carrying a few volumes which he presumably wished returned to the shelves. On seeing my person, he took the opportunity to inform me that he had just that moment finalised plans to return to the United States for a period of five weeks between August and September. Having made this announcement, my employer put his volumes down on a table, seated himself on the chaise-loungue, and stretched out his legs. It was then, gazing up at me, that he said.
It’s a beautiful book which should be read at its own pace, not hurried at all, and I assure you it will work its magic on you.