Take Back a Bad Memory
When I put Tell Me an Ending by Jo Harkin on my TBR, it had one cover. I didn’t love the cover, but it was fine. A black bird flying across a blue sky. But before I could buy the book, the cover changed. And the new cover made me feel uncomfortable when I looked at it. I almost didn’t read it.
But I’m so glad I did because it was a gorgeous, thought-provoking book about where the self comes from and the importance of memories. The book is set when we’ve discovered how to erase bad memories. For $4000, you can go to an office, have a simple procedure, and go about your life unburdened by the memory. You can either know that you erased a memory — you don’t remember what you erased, but you’re aware you had the procedure. Or, in the case of truly terrible memories, you can have the memory erased plus the memory of having the memory erased.
A lawsuit forces the company to offer to restore the memories of all the latter group’s people. So people receive a letter informing them that they once erased a memory and offering to restore it. You follow four people — really five because you also hear the story of someone working at the building — and whether they restore or don’t restore the memory.
It’s not as simple as “it must be terrible if I erased it, and therefore I don’t want it.” Because that memory is part of you, it’s about events that happened to you that you no longer remember. Maybe learning about the memory now would be different because you have different coping skills. Or maybe learning about the memory now would be devastating, and you’d never be able to get rid of it again. It would be hard to not allow curiosity to get the best of you.
So what would you do if you received the letter? Restore the missing memory? Or let it rest?
3 comments
All the memories that I’d want erased are the good memories. That time I was so happy to be in love. Before he cheated on me and left me for a younger, prettier woman. The moment I saw those two lines. Before I had that heartbreaking 2nd trimester miscarriage.
I can bear the sad memories. It’s the happy ones, the image of my naive self blithely unaware of the tragedy that lurked just ahead that I was to eradicate.
Oh Mary, that’s heartbreaking.
I wouldn’t erase memories in the first place, as I am not usually bothered by intrusive thoughts. Also, I only remember things in relation to other things. Couldn’t tell you much about my wedding, other than I was barefoot on a boat. I know I wore sunglasses the whole time, because of the pictures. But that’s about it. But, if I were at a wedding or if someone were talking about theirs, I might remember more. I’m good at forgetting, I guess.
Oh, I’m an expert at being haunted by memories, intrusive thoughts, guilt etc. But I’ve been learning to deal with them.
I also think Mary’s response is heart-breaking. Because the love she felt for that baby or her partner wasn’t naive, it was real. I get a lot of comfort from the love I know I felt for my ectopic babies, despite the outcomes.