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Friday, January 3, 2020

The Memory Police: A Dystopia of Learned Helplessness

I am starting this review after awarding this book Best Translation of the Year in my 2019 Retrospective post.  The quality of Yoko Ogawa's Japanese prose must be superb to inspire an English translation like the one Stephen Snyder provided.  The Goodreads page for The Memory Police notes that this translated edition was listed by the National Book Award as a finalist in the category of Translated Literature in 2019.

                         

I was trying to decide whether the genre of this book was science fiction or fantasy until relatively late in the novel.  There is much that is left mysterious by the author, but I came to the conclusion that the Memory Police were more likely to have been using some unknown technology rather than an unknown magic.  So I chose the genre label Dystopian Science Fiction.  Other readers may have a different take on this issue.

Regardless of genre, this is the most horrific book I've ever read.  I've previously indicated elsewhere that I'm not a fan of horror.  My feeling is that real life is horrific enough without adding to the horror through the media we consume.

The response of the unnamed protagonist of The Memory Police to the slow disintegration of life on the island where she lives will appear to be unacceptably passive in the eyes of many Americans.  Another perspective is that she is stoic.  It seems to me that stoicism is admirable in the face of suffering that can't be prevented.   Japanese people say "Shikata ga nai" about such situations.  I've linked the Wikipedia article about this phrase.  Most of the characters in this book do seem to think that stoicism is called for.   Those who disagree are the ones who are likely to be arrested by the Memory Police.

A really impressive character is a friend of the protagonist who is only referred to as the old man.  I want to call attention to one scene in which the protagonist and the old man were waiting on line for some time for an examination of their papers by the Memory Police before boarding a train.  An anemic girl collapsed and the old man carried her to the train.  This struck me as an act of kizuna, a Japanese  concept of compassion and generosity during an emergency.  I learned about it from The Kizuna Coast, the last Rei Shimura mystery by Sujata Massey which I reviewed here.  The old man's action was noteworthy because it shows that the Memory Police's attempt to destroy all social cohesion wasn't successful so long as someone like the old man was alive to illustrate the value of kizuna.

At one point, the novelist protagonist quotes from a source she's forgotten. "Men who start with burning books end by burning other men."  I tracked it down.  It's a quote from Heinrich Heine's play Almansor which was published in 1823. The play takes place in Grenada, Spain when it was conquered by Ferdinand and Isabella. Heine's hero, Almansor, is a Muslim.  He spoke that line when he found out that the Koran had been burned in the public square.  Almansor was performed only once on August 23, 1823.  A riot broke out.  It was never performed again.  For more information about the historical use of this quote, Heine's play and his context, see this article by Shlomo Avineri from The Jewish Review of Books.   I was glad that Yoko Ogawa gave me the opportunity to research this Heine quote.  It's a rebuke to book burners everywhere.

The novel that the protagonist of The Memory Police was working on seemed to be a portrayal of the island's tragedy on the scale of a single relationship.    When I looked at what is happening in Ogawa's society as an abusive relationship writ large,  I began to perceive her intent as a warning against the "Shikata ga nai" attitude. The approach of these dystopian authorities  seemed to me very much like the strategy of learned helplessness utilized by domestic abusers.  If your government is taking its cues from the kind of people who should be in prison for torturing their spouses, you know it's on the wrong path. 

The history of humanity has largely been one of tyrannical rulers who, like domestic abusers, find ways to convince the general population that they have no choice but to go along with their limited and hopeless lives.  Democracy, a system where people have choices, has been a relative blip on the historical radar.  It's here for a few centuries, but may be gone tomorrow.  When democracy is gone from the world, will we all be saying the equivalent of "Shikata ga nai"?

                        

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