The Memory Police

The Memory Police, a novel by Yoko Ogawa, was published in 1994 and later translated by Stephen Snyder for its 2019 release in English. This dreamlike, dystopian story unfolds in an enigmatic cloud of allegory. It’s set on an isolated island plagued by the gradual disappearance of memories, along with the objects that evoke them. Roses are among the first to go, then birds and calendars, and the island’s inhabitants themselves seem to fade in ways as well. A few retain their memories, and are hunted down by the Memory Police and disappeared, unless they can remain hidden.

The unnamed narrator is a novelist who processes her community’s grim reality through the stories she writes, her characters suffering losses that mirror the erosion of the self. She hides her memory-capable editor in her home, in a secret cubbyhole accessible only through a trapdoor in the floor and a makeshift funnel speaker. But the Memory Police, as cold and implacable as the snow that increasingly blankets the island, continue their search—raiding houses, enforcing the disappearances, and removing anyone who remembers what has been lost.

I quite liked this one for the unsettling calm that runs through it. Ogawa’s sentences are simple and clear, which contrasts eerily with the horror conveyed through her imagery and descriptions. I did find myself a bit frustrated midway through. I wanted Ogawa, or the narrator, to explain why these events were happening and what it all meant. But by the end, the allegory proves satisfying in its murk, offering a fictional yet sharper reflection of real-world truths, especially about the importance of memory and storytelling.

Yoko Ogawa