The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

First published in 1994, The Memory Police didn't become available in English until 2019, with translation by Stephen Snyder. Whatever way Ogawa expresses the story in the original Japanese, as best as I can tell, Snyder does a wonderful job — and the atmospheric, foggy haze that seems to define the original text, permeates this version. How the translation goes after titles is always interesting, and I wonder at the difference and purpose for dubbing this one The Memory Police, when (by others' accounts) the direct translation would be closer to Secret Crystallization or Quiet Crystallization. Regardless, I've been meaning to tackle this one for a bit and am glad I did.

With a nameless narrator, whom she chooses to make an author, the narrator's editor known only as R, and a friend only referred to as 'the old man,' Ogawa expands the narrative to a dreamlike presentation, where each character seemingly stands in for larger ideas. There's also a book within this book, as the narrator tries to finish her latest novel.

The narrator lives on an island where objects are removed both physically from the island and from the collective memory of the people. There are some who are unable to forget, and it's these people who fear the memory police the most. At the beginning, the tension between preserving memory, succumbing to historical erasure, and submitting to the oppression is palpable, as characters grapple with compliance and resistance.

Ogawa draws on familiar dystopian settings, focusing on highlighting the dangers of totalitarianism and the collective enforcement of memory loss. As more and more objects are removed from the island (ferry, bird, rose, spring), there are flashes of taken objects that snap back before disappearing again from the narrator’s thoughts with a feeling of hopelessness.

While I really enjoyed the book and found it easy to read, Ogawa lands metaphor on top of metaphor, and the tension in the story loosens as the end nears just from the sheer weight of all the themes and motifs. You know what this one is saying and where it's headed from the get-go. Nevertheless, The Memory Police serves as a meditative reminder of the necessity of writing to remember, ensuring the survival of truth.