The Memory Police Theme Analysis
As the name suggests, Yoko Ogawa’s ‘The Memory Police’ may just appear like another ordinary science fiction. Birds disappear, roses vanish, and somehow in the midst of all of that, people lose their body parts? It makes no sense.
But that’s not what makes the novel intriguing. The real horror lies in the culmination of identity erasure, and how calmly the citizens learn to live with loss, to escape tyranny and their oppressive space.
Ironically, The Memory Police isn’t just about memory! There are so many themes to unpack in this novel, and here are some of my favourites to discuss.
1. Memory as a conduit for connection and sentimentality.
Of course, we can’t just neglect memory – it is such a pivotal part of the novel. However, instead of viewing it simply as a cognitive function, memories serve as vessels that tether individuals to meaning. As objects and their associated memories vanish, the inhabitants lose touch with their world, contributing to an unstable perception of reality and a sense of numbness.
For example, as the Narrator reminisces about the island’s lost ferries, the personification of the Narrator’s memories sinking into the” bottomless swamp of [her] soul” evokes a sense of stagnancy, wherein memories are not just lost, they are condemned to a place so unreachable, its accumulation dissolves the Narrator’s very being. Here, the metaphorical description of the Narrator’s graveyard-like soul mirrors her disintegrating selfhood, as she must bear witness to the “shallow and still” psychological unravelling that accompanies forgetting.
Our decisions and actions depend on the memories from our past, and hence, when individuals are stripped of these connections, they are simultaneously stricken with emotional paralysis and are unable to form meaningful attachments.
2. The strength and endurance of memory.
Memory is an active process that can be easily disrupted. It is not static, nor guaranteed, but when resilience is at the fore, memory can withstand even the most systematic attempts at erasure. Those who retain their recollections on the island do so at a great risk, positioning memory as an incorporeal weapon against oppression and autocracy. By holding onto what the Memory Police seek to destroy, Ogawa suggests that authoritarianism cannot fully extinguish the human psyche’s ability to remember, and, therefore resist.
The endurance of memory is most evidently embodied by R. R’s simile of a heart having “no shape, no limit […] much like your memory”, highlights his commitment to preserving memory as a dynamic and expansive force. Here, R serves as a beacon of hope and a tether between the fading past and emerging present, by illustrating how ostensibly mundane items, even for those with metaphorically “sleeping souls”, can trigger powerful memories that anchor one’s identity. Even in environments designed to erase individuality, Ogawa presents memory as a transformative tool that can sustain agency.
As much as the Narrator embodies a sense of monotony, the auditory imagery of her “remember[ing] the quiet sound of [her] mother”, exemplifies the emotional resonance of memory, as the sensorial remnants of the past continue to persist. Although the inhabitants concede to a claustrophobic existence with their “frozen hearts”, the Narrator’s ability to conjure faint echoes of her mother highlights how memory permeates within the ungovernable subconscious.
3. Authoritarianism and surveillance.
‘The Memory Police’ is not ‘The Memory Police’ without its oppression, tyranny, and autocracy. The authoritarian body demand obedience without offering any political justification. As the inhabitants acquiescently participate in their subjugation, they internalise the brutal control of the Memory Police, allowing fear to erode their autonomy and the suppression of dissent to infiltrate their decisions.
The imagery of uniformity of the Memory Police “dressed in dark green uniforms […] nearly identical” mirrors their methodical detachment in their acts of erasure, as their indistinguishable identity dissolves any sense of personal morality. Unfailing in their commitments, their visual homogeneity reflects a sense of emotional sterility, allowing them to work with bureaucratic efficiency to create metaphorical “thin” hearts to establish control. Here, Ogawa critiques how the everyday minutiae of life is constantly monitored by the vigilantism of the “brutal [and] forceful” Memory Police, whose emotional void renders them apathetic in their purges of subjugation.
Of course, we can’t neglect the parallel narrative when discussing the novel – arguably, it is just as important!
The irony of the Typist’s “voice […] body […] sensations […] existing only for [the teacher]” mirrors the tragic relinquishment of her autonomy, where even the most unique and intimate facets of her existence exist as mere extensions of the teacher’s desires. As the Typist finds herself lost in an abyss, her identity is not just suppressed - she willing allows her body and emotions to become commodities of service, where her voice no longer serves as a medium of expression, but as a tool for another’s comfort. By drawing parallel to the exploitation of Japanese comfort women, Ogawa critiques the self-perpetuating cycle of erasure, as the Typist is forced to reconfigure her identity around the remnants of another’s needs.
Both the Narrator and the Typist are unable to liberate themselves from oppressive bodies, and instead, relegate themselves to the periphery.
4. Human connections
As detached, isolating and cold the novel may seem, human connections allow individuals to seek solace and solidarity in times of turmoil.
For example, the motif of hands, as the Narrator remarks how “one touch […] was enough to reassure [her]”, portrays human relationships as an ontological necessity for connections and familiarity, in an everchanging world. Whilst both the Narrator and the Old Man are forced to endure the inexorable corrosion of memory, the nexus between physical touch and comfort, portray their relational bonds as an existential anchor that sustains the continuity of self. As much as the Old Man embodies Buddhism’s central tenet of detachment, he functions as a father-like figure for the Narrator, and reflects the instinctive desire to be known and remembered.
The intimacy of relationships can also be seen through the Narrator and R. The visceral imagery of R’s warmth as he “embrace[s] [the Narrator] gently” with his “hands encircling [her] back”, highlights the dependence on physical intimacy, as a form of reassurance. Just as the Narrator finds herself stuck in her ideologically ordained reality, R is also forced to live in constant hypervigilance to avoid persecution. Thus, whilst both characters endure differing anxieties, their intimacy transforms into a sanctuary of solace and refuge, allowing them to momentarily escape the trammels of tyranny.