Memory Wall, By Anthony Doerr

The memory of all that...

David Evans
Saturday 07 January 2012 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

"You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives." Luis Buñuel's words make for a fitting epigraph to Anthony Doerr's brilliant collection of stories, which explores both the power and the fragility of memory.

Memory is figured as a persistent, even oppressive force: in "Afterworld", a Holocaust survivor is overcome by visions of lost friends; in "The Demilitarized Zone", a middle-aged cuckold is unable to forget his wife's betrayal.

Memory is also shown to be a "pale, perishable thing": in "Village 113", a town disappears beneath the churning Yangtze waters; in "The River Nemunas", an orphaned teenager struggles to recall details of her childhood. The title story concerns an elderly South African woman with dementia; here, Doerr chillingly describes the mental "corrosion" that accompanies the disease, the "cruel erasure" of self that it threatens.

But there are lighter moments. Like Proust, Doerr understands that reminiscences are prompted by the most mundane of things. He lovingly itemises the contents of his characters' homes – their "empty tobacco pouches", their "spatulas and salad forks", their "warped baking sheets and half-used shampoo bottles" – and he describes how each object carries personal significance. In doing so, he shows us that memory can transform the terrain of everyday life into something rich, charged, magical.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in