I read The Remains of the Day not long ago, about a butler reflecting on a life of service. As he does so, he slowly comes to see the red flags of the Lord he served for decades (Nazi sympathiser). The narrator is a man of manners and class, but his commitment to the role asked of him meant never stepping out of line or raising an eyebrow when, with hindsight, he worked for someone undeserving of such loyalty.
I thought of The Remains of the Day – more than, say, Saltburn – during The Kellerby Code and this sense of living in order to please someone else. In The Kellerby Code, although not a butler, Edward is derisively referred to as Jeeves in private by his two best friends, who he would do anything for. Much of the book is about the errands he runs to ensure Robert and Stanza live frictionless lives, in exchange for – what? Acceptance into their social class, sure. But forgiveness too, for a tragic accident from his past, as if a life of servitude is the appropriate recompense for guilt.
So despite Edward’s undeniably unhinged behaviours, I felt for him. Felt sorry, pitied. He thought he was buying something by behaving with such strict devotion, a guarantee that Robert and Stanza would owe him their love, appreciation, and the access they bring to an upper-class life in return. Robert is especially egregious towards Edward; instead of showing solidarity and gratitude following a devious scheme, he appears to emotionally hang Edward out to try, feigning ignorance and washing his hands of all responsibility. Bastard!
Sweet’s writing works at making you feel as if all this is happening to you, these micro betrayals by people you have invested so much in. I kept thinking, ‘how dare you!’, even once Edward had gone off the deep end and started taking encouragement from an anthropomorphic lamppost. For all of the twisted behaviour on display, it’s a light-hearted read, propulsive if slightly over-written. But Sweet’s wordiness lends the book a kind of prestige, as if it was Edward himself writing the novel, doing his best to win favour with high-falutin literary types.
I wondered, by the end, if Edward is a good person. The evidence would suggest not. He’s a grown boy with agency, yet the social customs in place make it feel like he’s never in control, whether that’s because of his romantic love for Stanza or his admiration for Robert, or his need for things to be just right because of how wrong they’d gone in his past. He’s up for grabs, influenceable, and so is it influencer or influenced to blame? If this kind of messiness is for you, then so is The Kellerby Code.