The Memory Police

by Yōko Ogawa

stood at the window, where I once stood with my father looking out through binoculars, and even now small winged creatures occasionally flitted by, but they were no more than reminders that birds mean nothing at all to me anymore.

This makes you feel so sad and nostalgic

“The island is run by men who are determined to see things disappear. From their point of view, anything that fails to vanish when they say it should is inconceivable.

So relevant right now

“And what will happen if words disappear?” I whispered to myself, afraid that if I said it too loudly, it might come true.

My heart lurched

Already on the second day, people who had raised roses in their gardens came to the river to lay their petals to rest. They carefully dismantled the flowers, petal by petal, and slipped them quietly into the stream.

The disappearances are so haunting

Poor, unreliable things that will never make up for those that are disappearing—and the energy that goes along with them. It’s subtle but

it seems to be speeding up, and we have to watch out. If it goes on like this and we can’t compensate for the things that get lost, the island will soon be nothing but absences and holes, and when it’s completely hollowed out, we’ll all disappear without a trace. Don’t you ever feel that way?”

“But I remember,” he added. “The beauty of the emerald and the smell of perfume. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

How does he know this about her mom?

“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.”

Beautiful

As I was gathering all the albums and photos in the house—including the portrait of my mother on the mantelpiece—to burn them in the garden incinerator, R made a desperate effort to stop me.

WHATTT this is soooo disturbing how indifferent they are to the audience

Nor did the secret we harbored escape the influence of the island’s oppressive atmosphere. One day, out of the blue, the old man was taken by the Memory Police.

No :(

“I suspect you’re right. And I doubt the cold has any effect. Memories are a lot tougher than you might think. Just like the hearts that hold them.”

“It’s an extraordinary sight, don’t you think?” he said. “Every one of these is a voice. A mountain of voices wasting away here, never again able to make the air tremble. And today, yours joins them.”

Literary bluebeard

“But it’s not that simple. Think about it. With the calendars gone, no matter how long we wait, we’ll never get to a new month…so spring will never come.”

Stuck in eternal winter where everything disappears thanks to the snow

“No, it’s not that. I think all this crying must be proof that my heart is so weak that I don’t know how to help myself.” “But I’d say it’s just the opposite. Your heart is doing everything it can to preserve its existence. No matter how many memories these men take away, they’ll never reduce it to nothing.”

R took my shoulders in his hands and gazed into the space between our bodies. I wanted to tell him that I knew I’d never learn anything, no matter how long I waited, but he had covered my lips with his and I could say nothing more.

Was waiting for this!!! Sorry you dont risk your life just for a coworker she obviously loves him

If I listen, I can hear the sound of their voices, but I can’t understand what they are saying. At first I thought it was because they were too far away. But that wasn’t really the reason. It’s simply that I can’t comprehend the words.

He stripped her of all communication like an abuser does

Even if I were able to escape now, I realized it was too late. My degeneration was already too far advanced. If I took one step outside, my body would dissolve into a million pieces.

After these relatively uneventful weeks, another disappearance occurred. I thought I’d become accustomed to them, but this one was more complicated: this time novels disappeared.

No :(

“Yes, I know. Or at least I did until yesterday. But that’s all changed now. My soul seems to be breaking down.”

To deny people art, nature, and purpose it causes them to lose their soul. Their niche indiviualities that allow life to feel full and purposeful.

“If I go on writing stories, will those memories protect me?” “I know they will.”

“Of course! A hat!” I was suddenly able to remember. “The man who lives across the street used to make them, but they disappeared years ago. You wore them on your head—the way she did—didn’t you?” I looked up at the old man, but he just seemed puzzled.

The stories tie us to events and things …makes them timeless

“Those terrible flames would paralyze anyone—it seemed like the whole island was burning…” “I thought I could hear the sound of my memory burning that night.”

That was the last I saw him alive.

NO

It was then I finally realized what had disappeared: my left leg.

Did EVERYONE lose their leg? OR is this punishment for trying to remember

“You’ll get used to it. It may be a bit tricky at first, but that’s been true for other disappearances as well. It takes time to get accustomed, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Losing their limbs and autonomy…and still they trivialize it

I thought how wonderful it would be had I been able to feel his lips, to sense them on skin and flesh that had not disappeared. But on my left leg there was only a slight pressure, like the weight of a bit of modeling clay. “Stay a bit longer, like that,” I told him. Though the feeling was empty, I wanted to watch him holding on to that void.

My heart ached when I thought about that day. Would I remember how we had eaten cake in the wheelhouse? Or made our plans to build the hidden room? Or stood on deck, leaning against the rail, watching the sunset? It was more than my empty heart could stand.

Grief without the reverie of memory sounds like hell

“But the arm and leg you see aren’t really mine. No matter how much you care for them, they’re just shells, empty skin. The real me is disappearing as we speak. Slowly but surely being sucked into thin air.”

I'm realizing this book is depicting themes of lost culture and aautonomy under a police state

“You see, I was absolutely sure. I knew that you were no longer capable of going back out into the world. It would make no difference if someone came knocking at your door. You’ve already been absorbed into this room.”

Everyone on the island had a vague premonition about what awaited them at the end, but no one said a word about it. They were not afraid, and they made no attempt to escape their fate.

“You’ll finally be able to leave here,” I told him. “You’ll be free to return to the outside world. The Memory Police have given up their hunt. Of course, how could they go on hunting people who are no more than voices?”

The ultimate goal of a police state

Closed in the hidden room, I continued to disappear.

Wow