too much to remember; too much to forget
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A struggle of an attorney
To keep the goal of his deceased client with increased discovery and personal sacrifice.  Increasing suspense and speculation that defines John Grishams talent.
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Mister Memory brings to light a profusion of intriguing philosophical questions about the role of memory, the origin of the self, and how consciousness shapes our identity. Observations and proclamations made by characters on these subjects are the source of the book's greatest merit.

The author makes use of neurological disorders not often found in books, providing a distinctive protagonist. And an omniscient narrator who addresses the audience with comedic and lyrical asides gives the narrative some much-needed pizzazz.

Marcel Despr&eacute;s is presented as the main character, but a significant portion of the book is dedicated to following Laurent Petit - a young inspector with a penchant for following clues whose intuition propels him on a perilous search for truth.

Though the story premise incites reader curiosity, the book disappoints in terms of plot pacing and structure. Many revelations are delivered too soon, revoking the narrative of a sense of surprise or suspense. Several moments of clarity are based purely on character speculation, divesting readers of investment in the story. A plot twist delivered midway through the book feels unprecedented, seemingly dispatched for the author's convenience. The premature revelations, speculative nature of "what really happened," and the author's decision to invest minimal time exploring the book's most interesting character collectively castrate the book's potential to be a thrilling mystery.

Mister Memory is a unique but forgettable read.
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In I Will Never Forget, the author recounts memories from her childhood. when she was looking up to her mom and learning from her. Side by side with this tribute is the more recent story, told with painful, complete honesty, of her mothers decline into forgetfulness.  Mom put the card down and stared at her checkbook, poring over it as if she was hoping for some inspiration and direction on what to do next.

The two modes of writingthe past and the presentcreate a painful yet striking contrast, one that lingers. I cannot imagine what it took, in personal terms, to bring out these intensely intimate moments and share them with the reader. What an honest look at the ravages of dementia as it robs a loved one of who she is.

Anticipating the future is, perhaps, the most heartbreaking. I was getting better at diffusing strange remarks to avoid confrontations or disrespect her in any way. It worked this time, but I had no idea how often I would be put to the test in the upcoming months.

Highly recommended. Five stars.

This book was sent to me gratis for an unbiased review.
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There were things I liked about "The Stuff of Thought" and things I didn't. I would have preferred the book to be shorter. I certainly could take away many profound observations. However, I don't think Pinker had to go into so many examples, although I am sure many readers will like that. Anyway, here are some important things which I will remember from the book.

1. We can learn a lot about people from the way they put together words. Pinker shows many examples.

2. What is an event? 9-11 was an event, however there were also many events which went into effecting it.

3. Words take on new meanings to reflect on how the world works.

4. Learning a language is really a remarkable process. Pinker discredits linguistic determination, that is the brain learning language to generate thinking. He asserts that thoughts effect language. Meanings are stored, not the exact combination of words which reflect them. Personally, I think both can work in parallel, when learning a language, but Pinker makes a good argument.

5. Metaphors are very important. They are an essential part of thought. "To think is to grasp a metaphor". He shows the use of metaphor in Leviticus, which makes one think even more that biblical scripture, at least the Torah, should not necessarily be taken literally, more like a living document which encourages deeper thinking especially as times change.

6. The chapter on profanity is certainly interesting. The amygdala, in the brain, is important in storing memories with emotion. Bilingual people react more to taboo words in their first language, rather than their second. Aphasia, loss of articulate language, victims retain the ability to swear. This shows more memories of thought formulas rather than rule combinations. Such swearing in Tourettes's Syndrome is called copolalia.

7. The basal ganglia in the brain, when weakened, taboo thoughts are more easily released. There is a "Rage Circuit" which runs from the amygdala to the hypothalmus - limbic circuitry.

8. Implicative language, like with sarcasm and politeness, versus direct. Hierarchical and "culture of honor" societies use politeness more.

9. Pinker brings up UN Resolution 242, about the Israeli - Palestinian situation, showing how the wording was intentionally made ambiguous, so each side could more likely agree to it. Best to get some agreement, so at least there is somewhere from which to proceed in negotiations. There again, words reflect thoughts, to often encourage further thinking.

So, the book is certainly worthwhile, despite its perhaps unnecessary length.
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To learn what we new American have forgotten is indpiring
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This volume brought forgotten things to mind of social and political events.
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I enjoyed playing this game, but a lot of people have a hard time "remembering" things. In this game, you sort of have to keep track of where other cards might be. Some people have no problem with it, some people are a train wreck trying to memorize anything. Not for everybody.
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This book ends up being a personal reflection of Ted Kennedy's life near its end. Indeed, Kennedy says (Page 13): ". . .I think of them often: my parents and my brothers and sisters all departed now save for Jean and myself. . .My story is their story, and theirs mine, and so it shall be in these pages." Thus, more personal reflections than discussion of issues and people in historical context. It is unfair for me to ask that he write a book that I would have wanted him to write, but. . . .

The book is filled with discussion of Kennedy and his family, from his early youth onwards. Much of such discussion, of course, is poignant, given the losses of brothers in war and to assassination. The part of the book where he discussed family and friends has a nice tonality to it, as we come to learn about the inner aspects of the Kennedy family (from his parents and brothers, to nieces and nephews, to. . .). His discussion of the brain tumor, how to attack it, and how to persevere in the face of its almost inevitable conquest of him is powerful.

On the other hand, the discussion of historical events has a superficial quality to it. Brief discussion and then moving on to the next highlight. For instance, "No Child Left Behind." He worked with others, Republicans and Democrats to help this law, championed by President George W. Bush, become enacted. However, I would have found it very important for him to discuss more of the interactions among the variety of players, how they hammered the legislation out, and what they did to pass it. Such coverage was rather superficial.

And, of course, some of the tough moments in his life, such as the death of Mary Jo Kopechne at Chappaquiddick. If my memory is accurate, his version in this book is pretty much what he said at the time of this incident. People who have doubts about this episode will not have their minds changed; those willing to accept his version of events will accept the description.

So, as a personal reflection, this works fairly well. However, the opportunity for us to learn from the author about events leading to important public actions such as legislation tends to be rather superficial. This was not his intent, of course, but I regret that we will almost surely never have his perspective on such events appear.

For what this book intends, it does pretty well.  But it could have been much more. . . .
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Heard I REMEMBER NOTHING AND OTHER REFLECTIONS (Random House Audio), written and read by Nora Ephron.

The author, a novelist and screenwriter-director, published this collection of essays a year before she died.

Many of them are quite humorous, probably because I could relate well to such topics as lapses in memory:

* I have been forgetting things for years--at least since I was in my thirties. I know this because I wrote something about it at the time. I have proof. Of course, I can't remember exactly where I wrote about it, or when, but I could probably hunt it up if I had to.

She then goes on to discuss the difficulties she has with remembering names:

* Have we met? I think we've met. But I can't be sure. We were introduced, but I didn't catch your name because it's so noisy at the party. I'm going to assume we know each other, and I'm not going to say, "Nice to meet you." If I say, "Nice to meet you," I know what will happen. You'll say, "We've met." You'll say, "We've met in a sort of aggressive, irritable tone. And you won't even tell me your name so I can recover in some way. So I'm not going to say, "Nice to meet you." I'm going to say, "Nice to see you." I'll have a big smile on my face. I won't look desperate. But what I'll be thinking is, Please throw me your name. Please, please, please. Give me a hint. My husband is likely to walk up, and I'll have to introduce you, and I won't be able to, and you'll know that I have no idea who you are.

My favorite part of the book had to do with the reason she chose journalism in a career:

* What I remember is that there was a vocational day during my freshman year in high school, and you had a to choose which vocation you wanted to learn about. I chose journalism. I have no idea why. Part of the reason must have had to do with Lois Lane, and part with a wonderful book I'd been given one Christmas, called A TREASURY OF GOOD REPORTING. The journalist who spoke at the vocational event was a woman sportswriter for the LOS ANGELES TIMES. She was very charming, and she mentioned in the course of her talk that there were very few women in the newspaper business. As I listened to her, I suddenly realized that I desperately wanted to be a journalist and that being a journalist was probably a good way to meet men.

After listening to this book, I felt that I got to know Nora Ephron better . . . and I now want to go back and watch one of the many films she wrote (WHEN HARRY MET SALLY, SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE, JULIE & JULIA, etc.).
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I read this book quite a number of years ago, and while I can't remember every detail, there are certain scenes I think will stay with me forever. That's saying a lot. I have a terrible memory, and I've read so many books the titles and plots fly from my mind as fast as they enter it. But whenever I see this book on my shelf, I remember what it was about. It's a beautiful struggle of a woman to find and accept herself, and I don't think I'll ever fully forget it.

In my mind, remembrance is what makes a good book. So to me, this is a good book.
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Thought can travel through time, you see, memory reinvents itself, making the past something that has always been, now, in this second, now, for ever. You cant ever really trust your own memory, your own mind. Reality, time, the past, its as fickle as a dream, when you look back on it

The Sudden Appearance of Hope is the third book by British author, Claire North. Hope Arden is a thief, a very successful one. Her success is due, for a large part, to skills she has acquired; but the fact that she is not quite invisible, but so very forgettable, is integral to that success.

Hope is in Dubai to steal the Chrysalis Diamond, and intends to do it from around the neck of the current owner, Princess Shamma bint Bandar, House of Saudi, at an exclusive promotional event. Her success, however, attracts attention for an unexpected reason. Hope is drawn into something that has the potential to make her memorable, but something that is also extremely dangerous. And the suicide of a recent acquaintance makes her all the more determined.

When Hope was sixteen, people began, inexplicably, to forget that she existed. From then on, her very existence began to change: she stole to survive. Hope found that being so forgettable has advantages and drawbacks. No one remembers you: you can get away with insults, offense, hurt, theft, even murder; one-night stands are easy; But, no one remembers you: not your landlady, your hairdresser, your local newsagent, your parents, your teachers, your lover; you can never have a true friendship or a long-term romance, let alone a marriage.

Norths plot is imaginative, original and, quite possibly, prescient. The premise of Hopes affliction is cleverly handled. Norths characters are believable, and Hopes often shameless acts of theft are understandable, given her situation. The world North depicts is frighteningly real and only a short step away from what already exists: an emphasis on physical beauty; apps that monitor location, purchases and web searches, that recommend products and services and offer discounts and loyalty points.

The Sudden Appearance of Hope is a moving and thought-provoking read that explores social pressures, the need for acceptance, loneliness, medical research and marketing, and whether the end ever justifies the means. North manages to include the poetry of Byron and Wordsworth, a Mobius strip, the darknet, opticians and the Macarena in her latest novel. Another brilliant read that will have readers wondering what Claire North will do next.
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Memory is a tricky thing. Anyone in a large family can tell you this because perception is  clouded by individual experience. Seven siblings will tell you seven different versions of a family Thanksgiving taking place ten years ago. Agreeing on a few details and arguing about others. Haven't we all been amazed by people who can recite entire epic poems? And we wonder how they did it and why in this day and age when we can Google the poem on a smartphone or IPod. My husband and I have made a point of memorizing our credit card and Social Security numbers (the credit card info comes in handy when you arrive at a hotel desk without your key after a run). Half the time I cannot remember my child's phone numbers, probably because of relying on my cell phone. Also I am in a continual expectation of dementia because of my father's death from Alzheimer's disease. Any forgetting placement of keys, cell phone or coat will send me into a funk. Realizing that this happens to perfectly healthy people is a comfort. This book takes you back to when people had to memorize things to prevent their permanent loss. This book is not preachy teachy but an explanation of how humans learned to do this with focus and some repetition but mostly focus. And learning how, in this very distracting world to do this, is a very worthwhile and for me reassuring,exercise.
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If memory can be relied upon, Lyn Fuchs first came to my attention in 2011, when he was soliciting guest blog posts for his website. I had recently launched a blog of my own, concerning a completely different topic, but thought I might have at least one travel adventure worthy of sharing. He accepted my recollection of visiting Alishan (a mountainous retreat in Taiwan). Partially in gratitude, I ordered a copy of Sacred Ground and Holy Water--and read it, too, perceiving in some of the pieces an improbable melding of Ernest Hemingway and poet-turned-mystery-writer Ed Lynskey--but with a brand of humor possessed by neither of those authors. The more I read, the more in sync with the author I felt, and the more I appreciated his unique style.

But I neglected to post an online commentary, which is unusual for me. At the time I was consumed with efforts to promote my own book. That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.

So this is a belated attempt to make amends, prompted by my having randomly plucked SGHW from the shelf one morning, opening it, and realizing it's more delightful than I'd previously grasped. I began carrying it around with me to chuckle and/or meditate over snippets like the following:

"I once asked a wise old lady 'Which is better: coffee or women?' She retorted, 'Both are delicious, but the coffee won't cause you much trouble.' What could the oracle at Delphi have possibly offered to top that?"

"The highest form of angling: catch and release into a skillet full of butter"

"Some folks think death is a termination. Others expect promotion or demotion. I'm thinking more lateral transfer."

"Civilization abruptly ended. The road line on my map was apparently someone's promise: 'If you come, we will build it.'"

Sometimes the meandering is primarily within his mind, as when a visit to Montreal sparks thoughts on globalism, or an ascent to the top of a crumbling Mayan pyramid prompts commentary on religion's ongoing demands. (The somewhat heavy-handed nature of such observations may be the book's weakness. That said, I tend to agree with many of his views, especially when he says "we moderns congratulate ourselves too often" on being more enlightened or tolerant than our forebears of a couple centuries ago.)

Inevitably, given my scattered frame of mind even when going about the most banal routines, I lost my copy (left it in the barbershop, where another patron immediately grabbed it). Annoyed with myself but otherwise undaunted, I ordered it again, and then read it again. So here's a further reaction, prompted by additional time spent with this interesting writer's thoughts.

Despite occasional tips (such as encouragement to see a small-scale model of the Mississippi River in Memphis) this book is not a travel guide.

It's much closer to the personal travel writing to be found in, say, classics by H.V. Morton, or the more personal Blue Highways, by William Least Heat-Moon. That is, it's more about the experience of travel per se than about specific destinations. But I recognize what he calls "that common traveler's sentiment [on checking out a new place]: I could probably live here."

And at times it feels more like a disaffected commentary on life as it's lived in this and other cultures, past and present, bringing to mind Tom Wolfe.

Let's not worry too much about the genre.

If you are curious about the world outside the circumscribed little groove most of us choose to inhabit; if you're capable of awe for the intermittent sweetness, discomfort, danger, and sheer improbable variety life can serve up, if you appreciate irreverent and self-deprecating humor in the face of all that, you'll probably agree this book's a keeper.
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BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP is a novel about a woman who has a unique kind of amnesia--she can't make new memories.  She is able to retain memories while she is awake, however once she goes to sleep, she forgets everything again, waking up in the morning, sometimes believing she is a teenager again, sometimes believing it's twenty years before.

She keeps a journal--the first part of the book talks about her meeting her husband (for what again seems like the first time) and her neuropsychiatrist calling her, telling her that she needs to read the journal she has been keeping for a while. He gives it to her, telling her to contact him if she wants to continue her treatment.  The idea is that she is progressively remembering her life before the "accident" that caused her amnesia.  For some reason, Dr. Nash has the journal on this day and has read it already--and he's giving her the choice of remembering or not, basically.

The first part is short--a chapter.  The second part is the meat of the book--The Journal of Christine Lucas.  And, yes, it reads like a journal.  But each day, Christine starts not knowing where she is or who she is in bed with to learn that she's married to a teacher named Ben.  She receives a call from Dr. Nash--and it's after she's read the parts that came before "today" that she writes to herself what happened that day.

I have always loved the idea of exploring memories and their connection to sleep.  There IS a connection--or so I've heard--some saying that it's in sleeping that we correlate the mind's contents which is why dreams are typically so fragmented.  We're taking everything that happened that day, everything that we saw or thought or heard or smelled or imagined and putting all those thoughts and memories into their proper places in our mind.  That's part of why, during times of sleep deprivation, we tend to slow down and become more forgetful.  Not only have we not taken the memories we created from short-term memory to long-term memory, but we're slowing down the accessing process.  It takes longer for us to get to those memories than before.

I really think this book was absolutely brilliant.  While there are a few stylistic things that I haven't been too keen on, nothing really distracted me from the story itself.  S. J. Watson has done a remarkable job of taking us through Christine's mind as she learns about events and people in her past and the frustrations involved in not being able to remember.  While reading the book, I felt as though I was there, trying to figure things out right along with Christine, and I enjoyed that immensely.

Definitely a satisfying book :)
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It is one thing to remember and to recreate an experience, and it is another thing to idealize. For some, the War and its heritage continue to be a rallying cry for the way things used to be. But for a growing number of people, the Civil War is an event of ancient past that is remembered vaguely in a muddle of misinformed pop-history facts. Tony Horowitz explores these different dimensions of the South and its war in Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War.

Horowitz's approach is personal. Though he's the grandson of eastern European immigrants, he grew up with a boyish fascination of the war. Living in the D.C. area put him close to the sites of many campaigns and battles, and when he encountered a group of reenactors in his front yard one morning, it started a story that would span three years in the South. Horowitz himself joins a group of reenactors who try to recreate the life of the average foot soldier during the war, to the last minute detail. There are no glorious scenes of battle. There are twelve mile marches in the middle of the night, three-day-old fatback that melts into a puddle of grease when cooked, and the unabashed enthusiasm of one Robert Lee Hodge, a lean historian with contempt for washing and anything less than authenticity. The resulting descriptions of the troop's activities and the author's reactions are hilarious.

The book really takes off when Horowitz hits the road and travels throughout the different states in the South. His goal is to see the sites, the cemeteries, the battlefields, the markers of events long passed. He does this, but it is soon apparent that his best moments are when he encounters the people of these different regions. He rubs shoulders with the rich and the poor, with old money and new; with the famous, and with the obscure; with city folk and country folk; with black people and white people, with the young and old alike. An exhaustive study of the South and its inhabitants would hardly be better. Horowitz doesn't shy away from speaking to anyone, and he lets their words stand for themselves. He's not afraid to point out misinformation, or to challenge conventional (or rather traditional) thought, of which there is enough to fill libraries. But he doesn't come off condescending, a common trait of the outsider. He lets people speak their piece, and he moves on. He strives for factual accuracy, and that's a great asset to the book. But more importantly, he often points out the development, both physical and mental, that tries, sometimes succeeding, to purge the war from memory and sight.

Over the course of the book, you began to see a picture unfold from Vicksburg to Gettysburg.  It is by no means homogenous. People are different, and that's one of the truest things we can know about people. Yet we own this common identity and we do still share the legacy of the war and its causes. The only question is our recognition of it.

This entry (and I feel the same about the book) isn't about the causes of the war. Nor is it about who was right, who was wrong, and who was politically savvy. It's about what we have inherited now, and how our perceptions (or lack thereof) of that time affect what we do now.

Confederates in the Attic is masterfully written. It testifies to the efforts of someone who is willing to listen and to look in both the uncommon and common places.
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The conceit of the book is the stream of consciousness that passes through the head of a somewhat (but not entirely) delirious old man who is dying of kidney failure. In author Paul Harding's hands, the tale that results is both fascinating and problematic. The same thing that makes it fascinating, makes it problematic. The dying man, George, remembers his father, Howard. Fine. But then, George reminisces about his grandfather, a man who went off the deep end and vanished into an asylum when Howard was a youngster. What George reminisces about is Howard's early memories. Howard himself had fled from George's household when George was a youngster. The reminiscences are certainly fascinating but the logical disconnect that these thoughts could not be in George's head in the first place is hard to get over.

The other problem that I found in this book is that, on occasion, I found it very overwritten. I found myself wanting to say: "Knock it off, already!" Such sections had little to do with George's stream of consciousness, frequently serving more as a diversion from and impediment to the flow of the book.

When I finished the book, I thought back on Harding's unusual mechanism for constructing this tale and concluded that somewhere through the creation process, he became much more interested in Howard than George but had the awkward commitment to George. Howard might well have made a better book.
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There were too many characters and situations and it was difficult to keep them all straight.  It was difficult to remember all of them.