Translated from the Japanese by Stephen Snyder
This will be my final post for this year’s #Witmonth – I haven’t read quite as many #wit books as I had originally intended but isn’t that what always happens? The Memory Police was my sixth read for #wit – and they are all too different to pick a favourite but this one will stay with me for a long time I think. I was captivated from the first page.
The novel was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize – it didn’t win – the winner was announced yesterday as being The Discomfort of Evening by Marieke Lucas Rijneveld translated by Michele Hutchison. It’s a book I really want to read though I am slightly put off by some reviews describing it as tough or harrowing (not sure I have yet recovered from Hurricane season) but as I do own a copy I may just give it a try. Sorry I digress.
I do occasionally enjoy dystopian fiction (as opposed to sci-fi which I tend to avoid) I find the depiction of altered but still recognisable worlds to be fascinating, the imagination that goes into creating a credible society, with all its strange rules and procedures is incredible. The Memory Police combined all the things I enjoy about dystopia; spine tingling fear, an uncertainty about what is happening, that fascination of a changed society with a deeply poignant, rather haunting story of memory and loss.
“Memories are a lot tougher than you might think. Just like the hearts that hold them.”
Our unnamed narrator is a young novelist on an unnamed island where things have bit by bit begun to disappear, sometimes people disappear too, like her mother. Random objects no longer exist – hats, ribbons, birds, roses – have disappeared from this world as have many other things. When something disappears it simply has no meaning for the people of the island and can be disposed of easily and unemotionally, burnt or handed over to the memory police. The world moves on and everyone continues to live without that disappeared thing – as if it never was. Hats and ribbons are one thing – but what about calendars, photographs, books – and what will be next?
“My memories don’t feel as though they’ve been pulled up by the root. Even if they fade, something remains. Like tiny seeds that might germinate again if the rain falls. And even if a memory disappears completely, the heart retains something. A slight tremor or pain, some bit of joy, a tear.”
Our narrator is an intelligent, caring young woman – she empathises with her friends and neighbours, worries about people getting picked up by the memory police, but she has little nostalgia for the past, except for when she is remembering her mother. Her mother had had drawers full of strange and inexplicable things in the basement of their house – objects that she would weave stories around – but her daughter can’t really remember those now. There is a sense of loss when she thinks about her mother, a wish to know what happened to her.
There are some people who retain their memories of things that have disappeared – those are the people who are at risk of being taken away by the memory police. When our narrator learns that her editor R is one such person – she is desperate to help him. Her best friend is an old man who lives on a boat near her home – he used to operate the ferry before the ferry disappeared – she gives him copies of the books she writes – but he doesn’t read them.
“…he has never read a single page of any of my books.
Once, when I told him I’d love to know what he thinks of them, he demurred.
“I couldn’t possibly say,” he said. “If you read a novel to the end, then it’s over. I would never want to do something as wasteful as that. I’d much rather keep it here with me, safe and sound, forever.”
Together the young novelist and the old man hatch a plan to save R from the memory police. They hide R is a tiny secret room between the floors in the young woman’s home – the old man rigs up ventilation and plumbing and a speaking tube – and R leaves his family and takes up a new life, hidden from view. He tries to teach his host about the things he remembers, to ignite her memory – but all that returns are meaningless flashes that have no emotional significance and immediately start to fade.
Meanwhile the novelist is working on her latest book – a novel about a woman taking typing lessons. Bit by bit the woman in the novel relinquishes control of her words to the teacher – until she has no voice left. It’s a powerful little allegory in itself.
As R desperately tries to hold on to the things that disappear – the novelist lets them go without a pang – even when novels disappear.
The Memory Police is a compelling and powerful novel – in it there are of course echoes of classics such as 1984 – although this novel is less about a regime and its bureaucracy and more about the impact on people – their survival especially. We never find out why things disappear – they just do – and to keep a disappeared thing or to retain the memory of what is disappeared is dangerous. A novel of memory, loss and control The Memory Police is hauntingly written and will no doubt encourage me to explore more by this incredible writer. I was surprised that this novel first appeared as long ago as 1994 – not only does it feel very current, frighteningly relevant – but I was puzzled as to why it’s only now been made available in English.
Sounds excellent Ali, and although I’m shying away from dystopian stuff a bit right now this would be the kind I think I could read. A wonderfully clever premise.
I understand dystopian might not be what everyone wants at the moment, but this is clever and rather touching.
This is the book that popped up frequently when I posted on Japanese novels recently and asked for recommendations. I’ve overcome my aversion to dystopian fiction and added it to my list.
I am glad you like the sound of this enough to add it to your list. I would be interested in your thoughts on it.
I thought this was a very thought provoking novel that made me think about how we treat and perceive those with memory loss, here it is in reverse.
That’s a very good point, it is a very poignant story.
Like you, I found this a very haunting and compelling read. I read it right at the beginning of lockdown, and the sudden loss of all those things we had been taking for granted for so many years added a whole new layer of poignancy to it for me…
I also love your commentary about the appeal of dystopian novels over sci-fi: “the depiction of altered but still recognisable worlds” with somewhat skewed rules and procedures, and the uncertainty this kind of environment creates. Yes, these are the aspects that intrigue me too!
I remember you saying how much you enjoyed this one. Losing those things we take for granted does have an added poignancy after all we have been subjected to during lockdown.
I adored this one Ali, but then I’ve loved all Ogawa’s books.
I really must read more of Ogawa’s work. I have heard good things about it.
The Housekeeper and the Professor is my favourite.
Great, I will look those up. 😊
I’ve really enjoyed the novels by Ogawa that I’ve read and I’d like to read more. Like Kaggsy, I’m not sure I can read much dystopian stuff at the moment but I’m really pleased more of her work is being translated.
I understand your reluctantance for dystopian things at the moment. Good to hear you have enjoyed other books by Ogawa.
That sounds like a more upsetting version of Ella Minnow Pea. By the way I just transcribed an interview with the author of The Discomfort of Evening and it sounds VERY disturbing, horrible gory rituals and animal deaths – certainly not one for me!
Well yes I think so. I have started it now, just over a third of the way through. It certainly is written in a very uncompromising style, there was just an incident with a hamster. So definitely not for you.
This one sounds so interesting. It’s definitely on my TBR. Thanks for this great review!
Really glad you like the sound of it. Hope you enjoy it too.
Somehow I have to keep relearning that this is not a crime novel but a dystopian one. I’ve gotten the wrong impression and it’s refusing to be overwritten. Having recently gone through a week with three dystopian books in my stack (having not read one for a year or so, at least), I won’t be looking for another any time soon. But, strangely, I am more drawn to them than usual these days. In general. But just not THIS day. LOL
I can understand that, I think we need to be in the right mood for dystopian fiction.