My last article on unreliable narrators touched on heroes struggling to remember their identity, and it turned my mind back to the subject of memory. This is something that I’m constantly thinking about these days, so let’s take a look at how different authors have used memory as part of their stories.
The hero trying to piece together their memories is a well-used trope, and while I mentioned a few examples in the last article, a great one I missed was Pixar’s “Coco,” in which the souls of the dearly departed can only exist for as long as they are remembered. The story revolves around a young boy who travels to the land of the dead to try and connect with his musical ancestor, only to find that his family’s memory (both living and dead) isn’t everything it seems.
One of my favourite inversions of this trope is the Dune series, where the Bene Gesserit sisterhood can access the genetic memories of their female forebears, the “demanding memories” of their ancestors crying out from the darkness to offer advice, insight – or madness. The ultimate expression of this gift is the God Emperor Leto Atreides II, who encapsulates the genetic memories of every human ancestor and whose personality is an amalgam of every powerful tyrant who has ever existed.
At a broader level, there is the near-universal trope of lost cultural memory, where the problem threatening the world can only be solved by the protagonist resurrecting some elusive treasure, ancient device or esoteric knowledge. A quick an easy example is anything to do with the Atlantis mythos – or an Indiana Jones movie. If you want a great read from an author who builds his world around the cultural memories of ancient cataclysmic struggles, pick up Ian Irvine’s The Three Worlds Cycle. A fantastic set of books, well worth a read.
But while memory is an easy concept to write about, forgetting and loss is harder. Loss is constant. Loss is entropy. Loss is the gradual decay that will devour memory, unless the most precious memories are preserved from generation to generation. The loss of these memories can be devastating – and sometimes necessary. An example for an individual character is Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, where (mild spoilers) a substance is found that can steal away a person’s memory and sense of self, leaving them a hollow, emotionless shell. For some of the characters in this setting, the trauma they have accrued over their adventures makes this prospect a blessing, not a curse. A more conventional trope is the haunted hero, struggling to come to terms with their failure, and thus required to go a quest/pilgrimage. The result is usually that they can find the strength required to unburden themselves, or in some way perform a penance that allows themselves to finally forget and move on with their life. The example that springs to mind for me is Speaker for the Dead, sequel to Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, which sees the distraught Ender Wiggin looking for a way to atone for the xenocide of an entire alien race, and finally put the memories of his deeds behind him.
At a larger level, one of the examples of deliberate loss that’s always intrigued me is the dystopian world where a cultural memory of past atrocities and failure has been repressed for the good of society – think George Orwell’s 1984, the Imperium from the Warhammer 40K universe, or Hugh Howey’s Wool Trilogy. Sometimes, memory is dangerous to the ruling elite. Sometimes, memory is a genuine threat to survival.
Whether your story deals with remembering or forgetting, your character’s memories, and the cultural memories they are surrounded by, can have a major impact on your story. If you have a favourite example of how memory and loss is used to create a world, please leave a comment below, and regardless, have a great week writing!
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