Life Imitates Art?

In Remainder, the injured man seems to be of the opinion that life imitates art and is, therefore, inauthentic. For example, he sees movies as "authentic," because the actors appear to be one with their actions. In other words, he does not believe an intricate thought process is needed to create action, as is needed whenever he himself does any actions now after his accident. I think that is why he becomes so enamored with these flashes of "memory." They occur to him without conscious effort. Also, I am toying with the idea that that is why his "re-enactors" strike him as authentic: because they do not have to think about their actions. They are given a part, an action, a line of dialogue, and they just do it.

Power trumps recreation

Despite his apparent focus on the importance of recreation for the sake of gaining clarity or some sort of grasp on his past, I think that the evidence in Remainder indicates that the narrator actually holds control to be more important.
On pg 158, he discovers that his hired piano player has been playing a recording instead of playing live. The recording is a reproduction of his playing, just as his playing is a reproduction of the original player's playing. At first it seems possible that the problem is that he is trying to insert a reproduction of a reproduction and that the extra layer is the source of concern. This theory is debunked however, just a few pages later when he requests that a model be built of his little compound. This of course is a reproduction of a reproduction as well, but because he commanded it to be built it seems to serve some purpose for him, even to the extent of distracting his attention from the full-scale model that he has built around him.
The importance of power to the whole scheme becomes apparent when he begins moving his little action figures around in the model and then calls Naz, who he instructs to direct the movements of the actors in the full scale model in such a way as to play out the fantasy that he creates in the smaller model. The fact that he uses Naz as an intermediary to exercise this control is further evidence that his problem with the piano player does not stem with his introduction of another layer, but with the subversion of his orders. He himself introduces another layer, not only with his small model of the larger recreation but his use of Naz to exercise his control introduces another layer, even within the exercise of power that is of ultimate importance to him.

On Memory

One thing that struck me as I was reading Remainder and thinking back to Never Let Me Go is the concept of memory and collecting in each of these novels.

Kathy only mentions the collections the Hailsham kids a few times, and references how few of them kept them once they left Hailsham, and even more so how little purpose they served in the world outside of it. It's almost as if the Hailsham children didn't have use for memory, that their lives are only moving in one future direction, and mementos only serve as painful reminders of what they no longer have access to.

The concept is flipped in Remainder. The narrator uses his wealth to recreate and build back his memories, in doing so collecting people and things in order to rebuild his life.It also comes off as a very selfish desire, though somewhat understandable.

This makes me wonder then, what about memory is so important, and how different situations cast different lights on memory and its usefulness.

When I first began reading this novel, I honestly felt true and deep sympathy for this guy.  Being about my age, I felt somewhat of a connection to him and began to imagine what it would be like to lose all of my memories and past experiences and I got quite sad.  I mean, thirty years old is rather young and being that he is not married or does not have any children, he literally has his whole life ahead of him.  I felt incredibly bad for him as he was essentially robbed of his life.  Sure, he had little flashbacks of fairly insignificant occurrences from his past but these moments did not last.  All he had to look forward to was the tingling sensation these flashbacks brought on and those moments of happiness were fleeting.  So, while I did think his entire plan for a production of reenactment was rather bizarre, to say the least, I felt for the guy and at least understood where he was coming from.

Now, fast-forward a little bit......  I started to really dislike this guy when he began using his financial gains as an excuse to treat people as disposable rubbish.  I think this disgust first began to brew inside of me as he surveyed the possible actors for his enormous charade.  The way he pointed out a few "possibles" for his project and then dismissed the hundreds of other hopefuls with the flick of a wrist really irritated me.  However, I can still remember the way my blood boiled at the instant I realized I truly loathed this guy: "At a loss rate of three every two days, I'd say quite an amount.  A rolling supply.  Just keep putting them up there" (156).  Talk about a total disregard for existence!  Personally, I'm not someone you would call a "cat person" exactly.  I love dogs, but that doesn't mean I don't have sympathy for these furry little felines.  He throws them away like the old liver lady with her rubbish bag.  His accident did not only take his memories, but it also took his ability to feel empathy for others as well.

The way he walked around with a sense of complete entitlement made me crazy!  I have absolutely no tolerance for people like this.  Now, don't get me wrong.  He is absolutely entitled to the feelings that result from his accident.  It is, after all, life-changing.  However, he is certainly not entitled to treat the people around him the way he does.  While these "actors" may have had lives of their own before enlisting in his reenactment, to him, they are no more than pawns in his twisted little game.  What I found most troubling about this entire reenactment was its authenticity.  For someone who hated inauthentic people and actions with the passion that he did, the reenactments are exactly that: inauthentic.  Honestly, I found him to be quite hypocritical. 

Begging for Reality

I found the passage where the narrator is begging for change. It is right after he leaves Daubenay's office and is headed towards the stock broker. He just got this huge sum of money, and hasn't blown it on fantasy yet, and he chooses to stand on the side of the street and passively beg. He starts this facade because it makes him feel "intense" (44). That language, I believe, is indicating that he feels more than fake at that moment. His actions to beg are making him feel placed. He says how "I just wanted to be in that particular space, right then, doing that particular action" (44), but what does that particular place and action gain him? What can he feel or imagine as real from this? He can feel "so serene and intense that I felt almost real" (44). Something that he does not know yet but will consume him later on. He has a connection to all the people milling about and passing to work, a tangible monetary connection. The begging is allowing him to feel himself and the people around him based on the fact that they could give him money; he is attempting to occupy a "space," as he calls it, in which the community supports him which in turn dictates that he belongs to a community.

Some Remainders about "Remainder"

            McCarthy's narrator in Remainder suffered from an extremely traumatic event.  In effect, this event establishes a sort of barrier in the life of the narrator; events before the accident are only remembered in part, and the narrator is constantly searching to reproduce the feeling of events that took place before his accident.  This interests me for a few reasons.  First, there is the ubiquitous question:  Can we (as Humans) have authentic experiences?  Second, I think the narrator's traumatic barrier is only partially related to the physicality of his injuries.

            The first question is definitely a universal, philosophical question that Remainder tries to answer, but what I find most interesting is this barrier that the narrator has between experiences he has before the accident, while trying to reproduce those experiences (and feelings) after the accident.  I have known a few people, who have not been victim to any sort of physical trauma, that have been driven by the same sort of search for authenticity that the narrator is looking for.  In fact, after a massively traumatic event in our lives, it seems only Human that we might seek comfort in how we remember we felt before the event, and to even seek out how to recreate that feeling--it's just that most of us don't have millions of dollars to throw around (and we realize that moving on is a powerful thing, hopefully).  Why is it that some people seem obsessed with re-creating the past?  Whether it's the spouse who cheats on their partner and wants to put the pieces back together, or the accident victim wanting to recover portions of lost memory, or someone with PTSD who is tormented by the past, but can't seem to escape reliving it--for some it seems like something they cannot control.

            I also wanted to talk about Naz.  On an authorial level, what a brilliant device to enable the narrator to carry out these grandiose plans.  But despite McCarthy's genius using Naz to facilitate all this crazy stuff, I'm a little perplexed by his character.  He's introduced as a Brahmin, traditionally the highest caste in India, but was also the priest caste; only Brahmins can traditionally become clergy.  I find that pretty interesting since Naz is able to arrange or acquire virtually anything the narrator wants--even offering to arrange having people killed.  What might McCarthy be trying to say about religion and divinity by very intentionally tying Naz to priesthood?

Remaining Sane in Remainder

At first I was fascinated... then I was bored... and when the re-enacting turned into a scene he wasn't even originally in... I got irritated.

Not only are these "re-enacted" experiences not authentic, but his ACTUAL experiences can't be authentic because he's looking to re-enact them! He just seems like a stubborn, indulgent, and rich man who certainly got used to having a lot of money pretty quickly! Once he realizes he can hire people to manage, and do anything he wishes, he gets absolutely out of control. I don't understand how he can still get the tingling experience he's looking for when he does the same thing over and over repeatedly - like when he repeats going past the liver woman multiple times in the same time period. The "fakeness" is obvious, so how does that illusion for him still take hold?
Why does he decide has has to re-enact the tyre shop experience? Is it that moment of a "miracle" that wasn't a miracle?
(Did anyone else think about the poor actor who had to get that blue liquid splashed on him all day?)

And I'm with Christina... the moment he said to just get more cats after they were dying from falling off the roof.... Done with this guy.