The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro

22522805Often, especially when I’m trying to sleep, memories come to me bringing old emotions into the present, leaving me feeling embarrassed or angry or scared—and inevitably tired because they keep my brain churning instead of sleeping. Periodically, I wish there were a way to selectively erase these uncomfortable memories, à la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or to declutter them like I do my children’s outgrown toys, leaving me who I am with the benefit of these character-building experiences but without the memory and emotions of the actual experiences themselves. Inevitably I decide I’m better off with all of my memories, which is all the better because they’re here whether I want to scrap them or not, but The Buried Giant has me debating with myself yet again just which would be better, remembering or forgetting. Read More