“History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.”
This book’s synopsis immediately drew me to it. It is a study of human memory, and whether the past as we recall it is actually what happened – and if it’s not, whether anyone can say what happened with any accuracy.
The first part of the novel is a recount of a friendship the main character, Tony, had with a childhood friend called Adrian who killed himself. The second part of the novel, following receipt of a bequest, leads Tony to reconsider all he had previously recounted. Evidence comes to light revealing the frailty of Tony’s memories of his past – but his friends’ memories prove corrigible too.
On this level, the story was interesting to me and led me to reflect on my own memories and whether those involved would tell those stories differently.
However, the novel also made me deeply sad. Tony’s desperate delving into his past made it seem as though he had nothing in his future. Tony is not near death, but his lack of close friendships (the vulnerability of even secure friendships is another theme running through the novel) or loving family relationships made it seem, to me, as though he considered his life was practically over.
I enjoyed the book. I enjoyed the study of memory. I finished the book desperately hoping that I do not end up with a similarly unfulfilling life as Tony has when I reach his age.