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A review by jefferz
The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Yoko Ogawa’s The Memory Police is a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of loss masquerading under a dystopian premise. With the concept of an unexplained totalitarian regime and the premise of police taking objects and people at random intervals, many would expect this novel to be a psychological thriller or mystery. That is not the case at all as Ogawa merely uses the plot elements as framework to discuss and reflect on how people process loss and memories over time in an abstract manner. While subjectively The Memory Police wasn’t quite for me, I still appreciated the beautiful prose and can easily see why this book is critically well respected and worthy of literary analysis.
Despite having some similarities initially to other established dystopian works (a lot of people compare it to 1984), at its core I would not consider The Memory Police to technically be a dystopian novel. While there is a plot to the book, it’s quite abstract and not the focus. The female narrator is a writer who enlists the help of an elderly unnamed old man to hide away her editor referred to as “R” from the Memory Police who mandate things and memories associated with them to disappear. Despite early indications and expectations that this setup would lead to some sort of confrontation with the Memory Police, the plot doesn’t go in that direction and instead focuses on the gradual differences between R and the narrator’s lives as more things are taken away from her. There's no explanation to the island, societal system, Memory Police, or any speculative fiction elements included which is a disappointment.
In what seems to be a trend for many Japanese novels, the book’s ending is open-ended and is likely the sticking point for why many Western readers find The Memory Police underwhelming (to a certain extent myself included). Ultimately there is no explanation for how or why The Memory Police do what they do and what starts off as being a generally grounded story (you need to suspend your disbelief that these Police can just make everything disappear overnight like birds), it veers heavily into the speculative fiction territory in its last few chapters. While I also wouldn't consider them to be plot holes per say, there are some considerations that don’t quite make sense on subsequent readthroughs. Why does the narrator attempt to hide R before he is even on The Memory Police’s radar and no one except the narrator knows he can remember things that disappeared? How does R just abandon his pregnant wife and child? As the narrator and R’s relationship becomes more complex months into his hiding, some of their actions feel a bit suspect and in questionable taste (yes, I’m purposely avoiding spoilers). The last few disappearances also require an absurd amount of suspension of disbelief, which again has its literary purposes but can be the last straw for a lot of readers used to plot or character-focused narratives. I was very invested in the book up to this point but once I got an idea of where this book was heading, I had to taper my expectations to avoid being disappointed. While I do not generally like this style of writing nor the lead-up to the conclusion, I did quite like the Ogawa’s closing sentiments.
While the plot leaves something to be desired outside of literary critical analysis, Ogawa’s (and by extension, her long-time translator Snyder) prose and writing itself is beautiful. While there isn’t much actual action or movement in the book’s narrative, one of the highlights for me was her portrayal of the passage of time. While there’s occasional mentions of weeks, months, and seasons in places, the vague sense of time and placement works perfectly for the kind of story The Memory Police is trying to tell. While not inherently sad or upsetting, the quiet and subdued tone matches the wistful, thought-provoking discussions between the narrator and R so well. I also greatly appreciated Ogawa’s focus on details that affect the narrator’s view of the world around her compared to another trend of many Japanese authors I’ve noticed that drown the story in unnecessary mundane details that have little impact on the story (Haruki Murakami being the most notable example). Details covering the ever-changing island, the movement and talk of its residents, what its three main characters say (or purposely leave unsaid), it’s all intentional and well-placed.
What I believe is most important to whether one should choose to read The Memory Police comes down to whether the discussion of memories, loss, and how life goes on is worth exploring. The narrator is a living metaphor representing the question, if someone forgets or loses a memory about someone or something, did it really even never existed in the first place? Despite R’s best attempts at sharing his memories and experiences he retains with the narrator and the old man, they simply do not inspire the same feelings and nostalgia. A great thematic example is with people that have dementia (one of my family members). Once a memory is forgotten, it’s as if it never existed in the first place and despite other people reminding them of the moment, they will never be able to experience the same emotions or understanding exactly as if it was taken from them by the Memory Police. And if people lose their memories, experiences and feelings, what is left afterwards? For the person who has things taken away from them, unawareness can be bliss, but the same cannot be said for others around them; perfectly demonstrated by the narrator and R respectively at the book's conclusion. That being said, like many other Japanese novels, The Memory Police inspires discussion and exploration of these thematic concepts but doesn’t make any attempt to answer the questions it poses the reader (again, another gripe I have with Japanese novels)
Ultimately The Memory Police was not for me subjectively, but oddly enough, as I was writing this review and collecting my thoughts, the literary brilliance started to make sense to me and I had a new-found appreciation for the material. The fact that this book was also originally published in Japan back in 1994 only to be translated and released in English in 2019 while still feeling entirely relevant just goes to show how well it has aged. Its vague and timeless setting actually makes it surprisingly future-proof; the only real indication of its early 90’s conception is the heavy use of typewriters which could also be written off as a historical fictional choice. This is the kind of book where a simple star rating does not paint the whole picture (especially with Goodreads' lack of a half point system) where separate subjective and objective ratings should be considered. I would rate this around a 4 to 4.5 from a critical reading standpoint, although my rating is lowered when my personal enjoyment and preferences are taken into account. I keep trying to read more Japanese translated novels in the hope that I’ll find one I’ll like, but I think the style and cultural differences are just not meant to be. But at the end of the day, I can still appreciate The Memory Police for its reflections on loss and Ogawa’s writing style is much more to my liking than other Japanese writers I’ve read (and that is perhaps the biggest win for me).
Despite having some similarities initially to other established dystopian works (a lot of people compare it to 1984), at its core I would not consider The Memory Police to technically be a dystopian novel. While there is a plot to the book, it’s quite abstract and not the focus. The female narrator is a writer who enlists the help of an elderly unnamed old man to hide away her editor referred to as “R” from the Memory Police who mandate things and memories associated with them to disappear. Despite early indications and expectations that this setup would lead to some sort of confrontation with the Memory Police, the plot doesn’t go in that direction and instead focuses on the gradual differences between R and the narrator’s lives as more things are taken away from her. There's no explanation to the island, societal system, Memory Police, or any speculative fiction elements included which is a disappointment.
In what seems to be a trend for many Japanese novels, the book’s ending is open-ended and is likely the sticking point for why many Western readers find The Memory Police underwhelming (to a certain extent myself included). Ultimately there is no explanation for how or why The Memory Police do what they do and what starts off as being a generally grounded story (you need to suspend your disbelief that these Police can just make everything disappear overnight like birds), it veers heavily into the speculative fiction territory in its last few chapters. While I also wouldn't consider them to be plot holes per say, there are some considerations that don’t quite make sense on subsequent readthroughs. Why does the narrator attempt to hide R before he is even on The Memory Police’s radar and no one except the narrator knows he can remember things that disappeared? How does R just abandon his pregnant wife and child? As the narrator and R’s relationship becomes more complex months into his hiding, some of their actions feel a bit suspect and in questionable taste (yes, I’m purposely avoiding spoilers). The last few disappearances also require an absurd amount of suspension of disbelief, which again has its literary purposes but can be the last straw for a lot of readers used to plot or character-focused narratives. I was very invested in the book up to this point but once I got an idea of where this book was heading, I had to taper my expectations to avoid being disappointed. While I do not generally like this style of writing nor the lead-up to the conclusion, I did quite like the Ogawa’s closing sentiments.
While the plot leaves something to be desired outside of literary critical analysis, Ogawa’s (and by extension, her long-time translator Snyder) prose and writing itself is beautiful. While there isn’t much actual action or movement in the book’s narrative, one of the highlights for me was her portrayal of the passage of time. While there’s occasional mentions of weeks, months, and seasons in places, the vague sense of time and placement works perfectly for the kind of story The Memory Police is trying to tell. While not inherently sad or upsetting, the quiet and subdued tone matches the wistful, thought-provoking discussions between the narrator and R so well. I also greatly appreciated Ogawa’s focus on details that affect the narrator’s view of the world around her compared to another trend of many Japanese authors I’ve noticed that drown the story in unnecessary mundane details that have little impact on the story (Haruki Murakami being the most notable example). Details covering the ever-changing island, the movement and talk of its residents, what its three main characters say (or purposely leave unsaid), it’s all intentional and well-placed.
What I believe is most important to whether one should choose to read The Memory Police comes down to whether the discussion of memories, loss, and how life goes on is worth exploring. The narrator is a living metaphor representing the question, if someone forgets or loses a memory about someone or something, did it really even never existed in the first place? Despite R’s best attempts at sharing his memories and experiences he retains with the narrator and the old man, they simply do not inspire the same feelings and nostalgia. A great thematic example is with people that have dementia (one of my family members). Once a memory is forgotten, it’s as if it never existed in the first place and despite other people reminding them of the moment, they will never be able to experience the same emotions or understanding exactly as if it was taken from them by the Memory Police. And if people lose their memories, experiences and feelings, what is left afterwards? For the person who has things taken away from them, unawareness can be bliss, but the same cannot be said for others around them; perfectly demonstrated by the narrator and R respectively at the book's conclusion. That being said, like many other Japanese novels, The Memory Police inspires discussion and exploration of these thematic concepts but doesn’t make any attempt to answer the questions it poses the reader (again, another gripe I have with Japanese novels)
Ultimately The Memory Police was not for me subjectively, but oddly enough, as I was writing this review and collecting my thoughts, the literary brilliance started to make sense to me and I had a new-found appreciation for the material. The fact that this book was also originally published in Japan back in 1994 only to be translated and released in English in 2019 while still feeling entirely relevant just goes to show how well it has aged. Its vague and timeless setting actually makes it surprisingly future-proof; the only real indication of its early 90’s conception is the heavy use of typewriters which could also be written off as a historical fictional choice. This is the kind of book where a simple star rating does not paint the whole picture (especially with Goodreads' lack of a half point system) where separate subjective and objective ratings should be considered. I would rate this around a 4 to 4.5 from a critical reading standpoint, although my rating is lowered when my personal enjoyment and preferences are taken into account. I keep trying to read more Japanese translated novels in the hope that I’ll find one I’ll like, but I think the style and cultural differences are just not meant to be. But at the end of the day, I can still appreciate The Memory Police for its reflections on loss and Ogawa’s writing style is much more to my liking than other Japanese writers I’ve read (and that is perhaps the biggest win for me).
Content Warnings
Moderate: Confinement, Death, and Emotional abuse
Minor: Body horror, Forced institutionalization, Police brutality, and Alcohol