Memory in Popular novels
Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac
by Gabrielle Zevin
This novel is about a teenage girl named Naomi who loses her memory due to a blow to the head, which sends her to the hospital. She has lost all memories since sixth grade; including her first kiss, her parent's divorce, and her sister's birth. She must navigate a life that does not seem to be hers. This is extremely frightening in many cases, but this novel is pretty humorous because Naomi is not afraid to start this seemingly new life. Her family is very understanding, and even offer words of advice concerning the universal loss of semantic memory over time...“Dad nodded and patted me on the hand, and then he read my mind. ‘You forget all of it anyway. First, you forget everything you learned — the dates of the Hay-Herran Treaty and the Pythagorean theorem. You especially forget everything you didn’t really learn, but just memorized the night before. You forget the names of all but one or two of your teachers, and eventually you’ll forget those, too. You forget your junior-year class schedule and where you used to sit and your best friend’s home phone number. ... You forget all of them. Even the ones you said you loved, and even the ones you actually did. They’re the last to go. And then once you’ve forgotten enough, you love someone else.’'
It is a love story, and treats memory loss as very positive and a relatable concept. She rebuilds her life, and learns more about herself than she did when she had all of her memory. It is an extremely optimistic novel.
Before I Go To Sleep
by S.J. Watson
"Before I Go To Sleep" is on the extreme and other side of the spectrum for novels about memory. The author has actually worked with children with audio impairments, though the author does attribute his job with the theme of this novel subconsciously. This novel was actually based on H.M.'s case. The main character wakes up everyday, very confused, because she does not know where she is or how she got so old. It is a very disturbing novel, because she does not have supportive people around her. Unfortunately, she gets sexually abused and still has flashbacks to that experience, but does not know who hurt her or what really happened. She finds out, at the end of the novel, that her husband, or the person who has been posing as her husband, was the stranger who attacked her and brought on her memory loss. It is a terribly frightening novel and extremely haunting.
14
The bedroom is strange. Unfamiliar. I don’t know where I am, how I came to be here. I don’t know how I’m going to get home.
I have spent the night here. I was woken by a woman’s voice – at first I thought she was in bed with me, but then realized she was reading the news and I was hearing a radio alarm – and when I opened my eyes I found myself here. In this room I don’t recognize.
My eyes adjust and I look around in the near dark. A dressing gown hangs off the back of the wardrobe door – suitable for a woman, but someone much older than I am – and some dark-coloured trousers are folded neatly over the back of a chair at the dressing table, but I can make out little else. The alarm clock looks complicated, but I find a button and manage to silence it.
It is then that I hear a juddering intake of breath behind me and realize I am not alone.
----
What’s going on?’ I say. I am screaming; tears run down my face. The man is sitting up in bed, his eyes half closed. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m your husband,’ he says. His face is sleepy, without a trace of annoyance.
‘We’ve been married for years.’
‘What do you mean?’ I say. I want to run, but there is nowhere to go. ‘“Married for years”? What do you mean?’
He stands up. ‘Here,’ he says, and passes me the dressing gown, waiting while I put it on. He is wearing pyjama trousers that are too big for him, a white vest. He reminds me of my father.
‘We got married in nineteen eighty-five,’ he says. ‘Twenty- two years ago. You—’
‘What—?’ I feel the blood drain from my face, the room begin to spin. A clock ticks, somewhere in the house, and it sounds as loud as a hammer. ‘But—’ He takes a step towards me. ‘How—?’
‘Christine, you’re forty-seven now,’ he says. I look at him, this stranger who is smiling at me. I don’t want to believe him, don’t want even to hear what he’s saying, but he carries on. ‘You had an accident,’ he says. ‘A bad accident. You suffered head injuries. You have problems remembering things.’