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3.77 AVERAGE
3.77 AVERAGE
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
This book took me a long time to get through, even though it's very short. I'm attributing this to the pace of the book and the lack of plot. The book felt very quiet, and if I forgot for a second there was a horrible haunting thing happening, I could almost revel in the atmosphere this book provided.
My biggest complain is that I wanted to know more - I wanted to know why this was happening, or how it was possible, whether the Memory Police were brainwashed or worse... I wanted more! Also, not sure if this is marketed correctly when we say that it's a dystopian?
My biggest complain is that I wanted to know more - I wanted to know why this was happening, or how it was possible, whether the Memory Police were brainwashed or worse... I wanted more! Also, not sure if this is marketed correctly when we say that it's a dystopian?
challenging
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
This is def going to be in my top 10 fav of all time books. It is haunting, beautiful, and so sad.
dark
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
The Memory Police is tense and suffocating. The lives that the characters live seem scary and hopeless, but everything is written so plainly, as if nothing could be more normal. With this writing style, Ogawa builds an eerie and claustrophobic environment in which to ground the story.
Some other reviews mentioned the lack of a real plot, or sense of where the story was going. I somewhat agree—it was more like we were simply floating around in space watching our main character's world and memories crumble around her. But I don't necessarily think this had a negative effect on the story; in fact, I think it was important for the world that Ogawa created. The memory police are supposed to bring forth uncertainty. You never know when something else will disappear, so you can never prepare. And this is reflected by our main character's apathy toward disappearances. You just sit by and wait for it to happen. That's all you can do.
That's kinda how I frame this book. You read it just to see what happens—not to experience a riveting plot or meaningful character development—because that's the kind of world the story resides in.
Some other reviews mentioned the lack of a real plot, or sense of where the story was going. I somewhat agree—it was more like we were simply floating around in space watching our main character's world and memories crumble around her. But I don't necessarily think this had a negative effect on the story; in fact, I think it was important for the world that Ogawa created. The memory police are supposed to bring forth uncertainty. You never know when something else will disappear, so you can never prepare. And this is reflected by our main character's apathy toward disappearances. You just sit by and wait for it to happen. That's all you can do.
That's kinda how I frame this book. You read it just to see what happens—not to experience a riveting plot or meaningful character development—because that's the kind of world the story resides in.
challenging
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
dark
emotional
sad
tense
slow-paced
challenging
dark
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
dark
emotional
sad
This review contains spoilers for the entire story.
Yōko Ogawa’s The Memory Police, published in 1994, follows an unnamed protagonist under a totalitarian society controlled by the titular Memory Police. In this world, the government has the power to, effectively, delete objects from existence; these items are “disappeared,” as the novel says. What starts out as small disappearances — like perfume, hats, and roses — turns much more sinister when photographs, books, foods, animals, and even people become “disappeared.” One of the most terrifying aspects of this story is that once an item is “disappeared,” the majority of the population will no longer remember it. And if they do happen to recall it somehow, they will no longer understand its significance or value. The Memory Police are an agency that exists to enforce the disappearances and to snuff out the individuals in society who are still able to maintain their memories. This concept, and its execution in the book, is evocative, frightening, and melancholic.
The plot of the novel follows the unnamed protagonist, a novelist, who is a “traditional” member of society in that she is unable to retain her memories. Eventually, she realizes that her editor and friend, named R, is able to hold onto his memories. Out of fear that he might be taken away by the Memory Police, she secretly builds R a safe room in her house to hide him away.
Like any good piece of literature, this novel can be interpreted in many different ways. What’s interesting, though, is that it doesn’t seem like this novel can strictly adhere to one single interpretation. In fact, it will probably feel most satisfying when viewed in a number of ways.
On the surface, this is a dystopian novel that explores themes of government overreach and oppression.
“I had no idea books burned so well.” (p. 181)
“I remember hearing a saying long ago: ‘Men who start by burning books end by burning other men’” (p. 184)
The residents of the island are largely unconcerned by the disappearances.
“I doubt the changes seem as great to us as they would to you. We shrug them off with as little fuss as possible and make do with what’s left.” (p. 250–251)
It’s not until the disappearances begin to affect everyone’s physical bodies that the population becomes more questioning of their government. However, by this point, it is already too late. This aspect, in particular, reminds me of the quote that is placed at the end of the Washington, D.C. Holocaust Museum:
“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.”
– Martin Niemöller
The novel does not explore the inner-workings of the government nor the Memory Police. In fact, while I do think it works as a piece of dystopian fiction, I believe that the story is more about death and loss, set against a dystopian backdrop. The book explores themes of existentialism and the permanence, or impermanence, of human beings.
“The room had changed completely. The traces of my father’s presence, which I had done my best to preserve, had vanished, replaced by an emptiness that would not be filled. I stood in the middle of that emptiness, feeling myself on the verge of being drawn into its terrible depth.” (p. 14)
“...the island will soon be nothing but absences and holes, and when it’s completely hollowed out, we’ll all disappear without a trace.” (p. 53)
The idea of a faulty memory, of course, also brings up the interpretation of the novel as a metaphor for dementia, which I completely agree with.
“Do you remember everything? Forever?” (p. 7)
To me, I believe that The Memory Police is about the death of a loved one to a disease like dementia. Yōko Ogawa explores this rather ingeniously, because even though the book is told from the first-person perspective of the unnamed protagonist, I think the book is actually more so about R.
R is the only character in the novel who is given a formal first name, even if it is only an initial — which feels significant. Unlike the protagonist, R can remember things, and therefore he is the character who is, theoretically, easiest for the reader to relate to. While in hiding, R grows a collection of things that have “disappeared” from the island. He is constantly using these objects to try and restore the protagonist’s memory, and by proxy, her heart and soul. Sadly, all of R’s efforts are in vain. By the end of the novel, the protagonist — along with the majority of the population — have “disappeared.” R does his best to hold his and the protagonist’s little world together, but he is unable to change the inevitable. We all will die someday. This is also where one of the most heartbreaking lines in the entire book is uttered by the protagonist to R as she is slowly fading away:
“But how can you hold something that has disappeared?” (p. 257)
R’s world is made smaller by his friend’s growing memory loss. He is literally boxed into a small room underneath the floorboards after the Memory Police have intensified their surveillance. Furthermore, when a loved one passes away, it’s as if nothing matters anymore, and the whole world seemingly vanishes, much like the rest of the population on the island. The novel ends with R climbing out of the room for the first time, likely to re-enter the world and cope, somehow, with the tragedy of his loss.
“But none of it will mean anything if you’re not here with me.” (p. 273)
This is why I believe that the book is actually more about R, even though the story is told from the point of view of the unnamed protagonist.
While I have given The Memory Police 5 out 5 stars, it is not a “perfect” novel. In the story, R and the protagonist develop a mild romance. However, R — by going into hiding — leaves behind his pregnant wife. The protagonist helps R and his wife to continue communication, but we ultimately never learn anything more about their relationship. Additionally, the romance that develops between R and the protagonist is not explored deeply. We are also left in the dark about their relationship before the events of the novel — has this romance been brewing in secret for a long time? Are there other factors at play? An aspect like this muddies the water a bit, harkening back to when I mentioned that it’s difficult to assign a singular interpretation to the work.
Ultimately, I think elements like this will feel largely unsatisfying to many readers. Another aspect of the novel that will likely disappoint readers is the lack of plot. The entire novel feels like it is building up to something that never happens. In fact, it does not even have a narrative climax — at least not in the traditional sense. It’s a very subdued novel. With that said, it did provide me with an intense emotional climax. The story carries a palpable sadness, and by the end, when it made me weep, I felt a strong sense of release from the tension steadily built throughout the story.
“I hope my memory will live on forever here, through you.” (p. 273)
I think this novel is, in many ways, more concerned about the introspective experience of the reader, and how it makes them feel while reading it. The book, with its hazy atmosphere, feels almost impressionistic at times — concerned more with color and mood. If the book is unable to capture a reader’s emotions in this way; if the reader is unable to be frightened by the provocative thought of photographs — or any other item — being “disappeared,” then it might run the risk of feeling disappointing or unsatisfying.
The Memory Police also reminds me of another Japanese novel that I love: In Search of a Distant Voice by Taichi Yamada. Both books are ambiguous, depressing, open to multiple interpretations, and — according to online reviews — seem to leave many readers dissatisfied. As for me, though, these novels are powerful in how they linger with me long after I’ve finished them.
To end my review on a more hopeful aspect of the novel, which is relevant to our contemporary political situation, I like how it presents art as an act of rebellion. The protagonist’s mother was a sculptor who retained her memories and, later in her life, created more strange and abstract pieces of art before she was taken away by the Memory Police. It is later revealed that these works were actually hiding “disappeared” items all along. This is representative of the power that art is able to achieve when we analyze it and dig beneath the surface, much like everyone should do with The Memory Police itself — a novel I can’t stop thinking about.
“Important things remain important things, no matter how much the world changes” (p. 95)
“No one can erase these stories!” (p. 180)
Beautiful, tragic, quiet, made me feel the way I felt when I read I who have never known men by Jacqueline
Harpman
Harpman