Last Leg
The finale of Yoko Ogawa’s The Memory Police is not a happy one, best B. Like the protagonist of her unpublished novel, the protagonist gradually loses abilities and body parts; they are disappeared. Here, the protagonist describes the people’s reaction to the disappearance of left legs: “Gradually we became accustomed to living without our legs. Needless to say, things did not go back to the way they had been before, not exactly, but our bodies acquired a new sense of balance, and a new kind of daily rhythm took hold. Eventually we stopped noticing people who were unable to stand without holding on to something, or who were too tense to walk naturally, or who fell at random moments. We learned to control our bodies without too much inconvenience…No matter how much time went by, there was no sign that our left legs were going to rot and drop off. They remained firmly in place, fixed to our hips. But no one seemed to care.”
We see that this is not some kind of gory amputation carried out by the Memory Police—the people’s legs actually remain but the people are persuaded they are not there by a sort of hypnosis. The Memory Police is not particularly literal here and it’s up to we the readers to imagine a mental loss of a limb. One’s left leg simply doesn’t exist anymore, although others—the protagonist’s editor whom she shelters—can apparently “feel” her leg.
Ahem.
Why is the idea of left legs decreed disappeared?
“The number of people who were taken away by the Memory Police suddenly increased. Those who had used all sorts of tricks in the past to blend in could no longer fool the police after the disappearance of their left legs. It was surprising to see how many people had managed to hide in plain sight without being captured or resorting to safe houses, but now they found it impossible to imitate our new sense of balance. No matter how much they tried, something was slightly different about the distribution of the weight or the alignment of the muscles or the movement of the joints. And the Memory Police could spot it immediately.”
The state (which is never described in the book) forces the citizens to adapt to the loss of important faculties, and most of them do, developing a new sense of balance. Thos that cannot are arrested.
So perhaps there is a twisted logic here, or plan. The loss of the sense people have of their left legs helps the Memory Police to identify them as rule breakers. I’m reminded of how Ms. Ogawa has said she was influenced by Anne Frank’s story of trying to hide from the Nazis in Amsterdam. In The Memory Police, the outcasts—people who can remember—are gradually rounded up and taken away, just as Jewish people were in WWII. Certainly, there are also echoes here of Franz Kafka’s work, wherein those in power act in an arbitrary way to enforce their positions of power.
And yes, I know everyone’s thinking this—the disappearance of the mental construct of left legs puts The Memory Police in the realm of science fiction.
Does it? I‘ve said earlier that I’m not convinced it’s fair to label this book as science fiction. Labeling is a technique used by retailers. The logic is that someone who is interested in science fiction, perhaps because they enjoyed reading another book labeled this way, will buy The Memory Police.
I don’t want to go off on a rant here, but I’m just not convinced this is a good way to buy books. Do people actually buy this way? I buy and read books because an author I enjoy has a new offering. Or I read a review by a reviewer I trust and buy the book. I cannot recommend The Memory Police to someone who enjoys science fiction. First of all, I don’t know exactly what this means—science fiction. Last time, I presented a definition of it and yes, Memory Police fits. But the construct is just too big. I think if you enjoy Ray Bradbury’s writing or Frank Herbert or Robert Heinlein, or even H.G. Wells, you might be disappointed in The Memory Police. Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 has considerable overlap with The Memory Police, in terms of plot but the style is pretty different, and I’m worried there could be disappointment for someone who expected something similar. Conversely, if you like Kafka, or Anne Frank, read this one.
As I said, The Memory Police does not have a happy ending. There is no successful rebellion against the authorities; the protagonist does not triumph (perhaps only in her humanity—think Anne Frank).
“The hand that had written the story, my eyes overflowing with tears, the cheeks that had received them—they all disappeared in their turn and in the end all that was left was a voice. The citizens of the island had lost everything that had a form, and our voices alone drifted aimlessly.
I no longer needed to fall into R’s arms to descend to the hidden room. There was no need to lift the heavy trapdoor, since I was now able to slip through the narrow crack around it. In that sense, the complete disappearance of my body was actually a form of liberation…
‘It’s peaceful with just a voice,’ I said. ‘With just a voice, I think I’ll be able to accept my final moment calmly and quietly, without suffering or sadness.’
‘You mustn’t think like that,’ R said…
‘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 outside world is in ruins, crushed under the weight of the snow, but you’ll manage…I’m sure others who have been in hiding will come out to help you…
‘Do you really have to go?’ he asked, gathering to his chest the air he held in his hands.
“Good-bye…’ The last traces of my voice were frail and hoarse. ‘Good-bye.’…
Closed in the hidden room, I continued to disappear.”
And so ends this remarkable story. Certainly, the ending echoes the protagonist’s final novel where that protagonist is shut up forever in a tower.
There is a kind of hope expressed here, that R, who has been hidden from the Memory Police and so not victim to their disappearances, leaves the hidden room to be free. In a sense, the protagonist sacrifices herself to save him.
A final thought: I do think that there is a subtext in this book of showing what dementia is like. As I said, I don’t know if Ms. Ogawa was aware of this, but it seems to lurk in this story of gradually losing one’s faculties. One can read the story on more than one level.
Till next time.
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