Fiction

En memoria de la memoria

En memoria de la memoria

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  • Create Date：2022-08-24 01:17:36
  • Update Date：2025-09-23
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  • Author：Maria Stepanova
  • ISBN：8419036072
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Summary

Tras la muerte de su tía， la narradora afronta la penosa （y sin embargo evocadora） tarea de vaciar un apartamento repleto de fotografías descoloridas， de viejas postales， cartas， diarios íntimos e infinidad de recuerdos: el rastro de una vida， el repositorio de un siglo de existencia en Rusia。 Estos fragmentos de historia personal， recopilados con absoluto esmero， relatan las vicisitudes de una familia judía de origen humilde que logró sobrevivir a la persecución implacable de su pueblo durante el pasado siglo。 Stepánova firma un texto de extraordinario valor literario， en el que， entrelazando géneros， plantea una audaz reflexión sobre la historia y los mecanismos de la memoria， y donde también tienen cabida las impresiones， las remembranzas y los personajes más variopintos。 Un libro sutil， inteligente y bello， impregnado de la delicadeza de la buena poesía。

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Reviews

Alina Renko ，

это книга для меня расширение восприятия， оголение собственной памяти。 красиво и умно。

victoria ，

moments of beauty surrounded by tedious nothings

Rosemary ，

In Memory of Memory was recommended to me because of its similarity to Austerlitz， whose author Stepanova alludes to repeatedly。 But beyond their shared concern with family history and photography， they’re very different books。 While Austerlitz gradually uncovers the story of his Jewish heritage from having grown up knowing nothing about it， Stepanova has spent her life steeped in her family’s stories。 She presents us with an impossibly large cast of characters who have somehow survived a centur In Memory of Memory was recommended to me because of its similarity to Austerlitz， whose author Stepanova alludes to repeatedly。 But beyond their shared concern with family history and photography， they’re very different books。 While Austerlitz gradually uncovers the story of his Jewish heritage from having grown up knowing nothing about it， Stepanova has spent her life steeped in her family’s stories。 She presents us with an impossibly large cast of characters who have somehow survived a century of pogroms， purges， war， hunger， the Holocaust and the Doctors’ Plot， leaving the author with a salmagundi of trinkets， photographs， correspondence and memories to make sense of。 The only family member who did fall victim to the upheavals of Soviet Russia is her grandfather’s nineteen-year-old cousin Lyodik; conscripted into the army， he spends two months in officer training before finding himself on the Leningrad Front during the ‘Terrible Winter’ of 1941。 His letters home are incongruously banal and upbeat – while stationed in the besieged， starving city and living on tiny rations of bread， Lyodik writes that “I am in good health， feeling well and certain of our victory。 I hope to be together with you for my twentieth birthday”。 I can’t think of a way to adequately summarise In Memory of Memory， sometimes it reads like a memoir， sometimes like a series of essays， sometimes art history。 Some passages are dull， some fascinating， and it’s not always clear how the different elements fit together。 The accounts that Stepanova gives of the lives of two female artists， Francesca Woodman and Charlotte Salomon， were some of my favourite parts， though in the case of Woodman I can’t recall how Stepanova links this with her own family history。 This collage-like mixture of personal anecdotes and reflections on films， books and artists’ lives reminded me of Chris Kraus’s books， though tonally they’re very different。 。。。more

Zachary ，

Really remarkable writing quality， I especially enjoyed her philosophising about images and the more detailed stories of the author's family。 Since this was an experimental "fiction" book of sorts （hard to call it a novel）， I understand the desire to break from traditional forms and work with different kinds of texts， though I have to admit， when reading some of the artist essays in the middle， I thought "why wasn't this just another book？" The book was certainly long enough to divide into sever Really remarkable writing quality， I especially enjoyed her philosophising about images and the more detailed stories of the author's family。 Since this was an experimental "fiction" book of sorts （hard to call it a novel）， I understand the desire to break from traditional forms and work with different kinds of texts， though I have to admit， when reading some of the artist essays in the middle， I thought "why wasn't this just another book？" The book was certainly long enough to divide into several volumes – it was a shame for a book with such great writing to feel like a bit of a slog at times by including too many different styles。 Regardless， it livened up at the end and still managed to be one of the most extraordinary books I've read。 。。。more

Richard Thompson ，

There are parts of this book that are beautiful and other parts that are deep。 As Ms。 Stepanova tells us several times， it isn't primarily a book about her and her family's memories， though we get a lot of that， it's really a book about memory itself， its process and how it affects our lives and our perception of the world around us。 The structure of the book reflects the way that she wants us to understand that memory works。 It is fragmented， broken into little pieces， with gaps that cannot eve There are parts of this book that are beautiful and other parts that are deep。 As Ms。 Stepanova tells us several times， it isn't primarily a book about her and her family's memories， though we get a lot of that， it's really a book about memory itself， its process and how it affects our lives and our perception of the world around us。 The structure of the book reflects the way that she wants us to understand that memory works。 It is fragmented， broken into little pieces， with gaps that cannot ever be completely filled， and yet by way of the stories that we tell ourselves all of the shards glue themselves back together into a coherent whole。 The act of remembering and recreating the past gives substance to the present and reshapes the past into an image that we can understand。 It's more than a little circular， but that's not a bad thing。 It's just the nature of the beast。Ms。 Stepanova is very much a poet in the style of her prose。 It is driven by images， impressions and emotions much more than by story。 It has a rhythm that most novelists don't have。 Often when poets write prose they do so with great care， imbuing meaning in every word and gesture。 I felt that way in reading the prose works of Mandelstam and Rilke。 Here it was a different kind of poetry， still beautiful， still carefully written， but more about the flow and feel than about precision。 。。。more

Nosemonkey ，

Is this a memoir？ A history？ A novel？ A collection of short stories？ A prose poem？ A piece of philosophy？ I have no idea - but I don't regret experiencing it。 With her poet's ear for a phrase and eye for tangential connections that serve as perfect metaphors， Stepanova makes this book about almost nothing somehow about almost everything。Proustian， melancholic， philosophical and whimsical not-quite-nostalgia for humdrum lives in the Soviet era， packed with detours both banal and profound - a fami Is this a memoir？ A history？ A novel？ A collection of short stories？ A prose poem？ A piece of philosophy？ I have no idea - but I don't regret experiencing it。 With her poet's ear for a phrase and eye for tangential connections that serve as perfect metaphors， Stepanova makes this book about almost nothing somehow about almost everything。Proustian， melancholic， philosophical and whimsical not-quite-nostalgia for humdrum lives in the Soviet era， packed with detours both banal and profound - a family history of which， "I felt bound to notice that my ancestors had made hardly any attempt to make our family history interesting。"Despite （thanks to？） this， Stepanova uses this almost blank canvas to nudge the reader into exploring their own memories and family histories as they read of hers。 It's almost impossible not to be set off on your own digressions about how little you know of great-great grandparents and long-lost aunts as she digs out her own family's pasts。This， in turn， builds into a growing sense of the futility of life - and yet， at the same time， the importance of fully living in the present:"The feeling of comradeship in our common fate。。。 Everything we see before us， including ourselves， will disappear， and it won't take long。" 。。。more

bryżit ，

Dobra， ale nie dla mnie。

Arina ，

На Сторителе такая ужасная чтица， что пришлось заказать книгу в бумаге。--В бумаге оказалось， как я и думала， совсем другое дело。 Но впечатление， пожалуй， я не могу описать， потому что вроде бы и читалось с интересом， и семейная история много имеет сходств с моей собственной， а чего-то как будто не хватило。 Генеалогического древа， возможно。 И вставок， хоть и интересных， мне показалось слишком много。 И ещё очень холодно от всей книги， только к концу становится чуть теплей。

Martyna ，

mimo tytułu jaki nosi， ta książka nie do końca jest o pamięci。 w wietnamskim jest słowo "nhớ"， które oznacza pamiętać i tęsknić za czymś na raz i o tym jest ta książka bardziej niż o samych wspomnieniach。 jest o tym， jak bardzo pamięć jest delikatną strukturą， która nie jest zbudowana z surowych faktów， a z emocji， posklejanych ze sobą nieistotnych szczegółów， mieszających się różnych wydarzeń， nostalgii i historii， które nie wiemy czy pamiętamy na prawdę czy "pamiętamy"， bo ktoś nam o nich przy mimo tytułu jaki nosi， ta książka nie do końca jest o pamięci。 w wietnamskim jest słowo "nhớ"， które oznacza pamiętać i tęsknić za czymś na raz i o tym jest ta książka bardziej niż o samych wspomnieniach。 jest o tym， jak bardzo pamięć jest delikatną strukturą， która nie jest zbudowana z surowych faktów， a z emocji， posklejanych ze sobą nieistotnych szczegółów， mieszających się różnych wydarzeń， nostalgii i historii， które nie wiemy czy pamiętamy na prawdę czy "pamiętamy"， bo ktoś nam o nich przypomniał i opowiedział。 opowieść o zwykłych， nieistotnych na skalę światową osobach w trudnych czasach， o tym， jak przeszłe pokolenia kształtują nas samych， o tym， że "nigdy nie będę， jak moi rodzice" prawie zawsze kończy się na byciu， jak swoi rodzice， o osobistych historiach ważniejszych niż tocząca się w tle historia świata。 。。。more

Elizabeth ，

1

Mihaela ，

Remarcabil！

Luisa ，

To explore memory （its meaning， presence & repercussions） is not an easy task。 Yet， through the combination of essay， fiction and historical accounts， Stepanova manages to build a poignant personal story that invites the reader to embrace the uncertainty of memory itself。 Each fragment （some vividly physical and others extremely abstract and philosophical） feels like a testament and an ode to the passing of time。 Her voice is tender & soft， like a whisper; but it is also relentless， pushing the To explore memory （its meaning， presence & repercussions） is not an easy task。 Yet， through the combination of essay， fiction and historical accounts， Stepanova manages to build a poignant personal story that invites the reader to embrace the uncertainty of memory itself。 Each fragment （some vividly physical and others extremely abstract and philosophical） feels like a testament and an ode to the passing of time。 Her voice is tender & soft， like a whisper; but it is also relentless， pushing the reader to the fringes of meaning and making us aware that after all， transcendence is the only possible human victory。 。。。more

Caspar Bryant ，

Well wouldn't you know it this is really really good。 I hope you like Russian historyStepanova creates something a little hard to define here but we're fans of that I think she takes a lot after Sebald （there is a chapter on Sebald in here but structurally too she's working with him）。 She calls him the conclusion of 20th century lit on the continuum Proust-Nabokov-Sebald which is rather exciting personally。 But that's the way I'd best introduce this oneIt's a book that unravels itself structural Well wouldn't you know it this is really really good。 I hope you like Russian historyStepanova creates something a little hard to define here but we're fans of that I think she takes a lot after Sebald （there is a chapter on Sebald in here but structurally too she's working with him）。 She calls him the conclusion of 20th century lit on the continuum Proust-Nabokov-Sebald which is rather exciting personally。 But that's the way I'd best introduce this oneIt's a book that unravels itself structurally as Stepanova unravels and questions her own motives for interrogating her family history， the reality of reality as it is received even intimately among family。 The first half of the text is more theoretical but completely approachable one doesn't need any theory background to have a read。 But for those interested she's doing the classic pair of Benjamin and Berger and settling them in （deliciously！） with cues from Barthes' Camera Obscura 。 Fantastic I'm on board。 There's a Russian twist to this because that's what Russians are like and she updates the Benjaminian proliferation of images to the last decade （though I would suggest that Berger's prescience is such that this has kind of had the path laid out。 Good for her anyway）。 This section also takes some much-appreciated dives into art history as Berger does in Ways of Seeing which are probably familiar enough though enjoyable and love her on Caravaggio。Somewhere after halfway things get chaotic。 I'm kind of unwilling to describe this here since Stepanova is fantastically organic about the weight of generations unbecoming etc and the way that breathes into the structure of the text。 I would say， read it。 Foer in Everything is Illuminated 。 A very strong book one of my favourites lately 。。。more

Ann ，

3。5 starsThis book was at times riveting， and at other times very boring。 I think it is more like essays interspersed with her family’s history。

Shreya ，

I DNF'd this。I know。。。 I hate not finishing books at all， and I was really looking forward to reading this， but some chapters did feel like a slog to get through， almost like I was only reading through them to have the satisfaction of having completed a chapter and not skipping over anything。There were some chapters that I loved， like "The Jewboy Who Hid From View"。 I think that Stepanova shined the brightest when discussing Judaism and her family's Jewish identity。 I also especially loved her i I DNF'd this。I know。。。 I hate not finishing books at all， and I was really looking forward to reading this， but some chapters did feel like a slog to get through， almost like I was only reading through them to have the satisfaction of having completed a chapter and not skipping over anything。There were some chapters that I loved， like "The Jewboy Who Hid From View"。 I think that Stepanova shined the brightest when discussing Judaism and her family's Jewish identity。 I also especially loved her insights on photographs， and how such memorabilia are not even intended for those currently alive and how that can result in the distortion of the intended meaning。 From what I did manage to understand （and I loved whatever that I understood）， this book read like a eulogy to memory and the act of memorialising in itself; that we need to let go of our fascination and our fetishisation of the past because at best， the past has no real meaning or relevance and at worst， it will definitely lead to distortion and weaponisation of history on a grander political scale。Either way， I am grateful for all the authors that Stepanova mentioned in the book， because now I have an expanded TBR list of authors whom I am excited to read。 I definitely do plan on coming back to reading this， it's entirely possible that I was not in the right mental state when reading this， what with having to cope with finals and papers and such。 。。。more

LPG ，

DNF

B。 Jean ，

Stepanova， a Russian Jewish poet， constructs and deconstructs family history from the late 1800s till now using family artifacts: photographs， letters， notes， and spoken stories。 This is beautifully written。 As you can see， I have many， many highlights from it。 I didn't want to put it at five stars， because some parts of the book were very slow to get through。 There were other parts that were incredibly compelling。 I'm thinking of the section on cemeteries and then Lyonik's story in particular。 Stepanova， a Russian Jewish poet， constructs and deconstructs family history from the late 1800s till now using family artifacts: photographs， letters， notes， and spoken stories。 This is beautifully written。 As you can see， I have many， many highlights from it。 I didn't want to put it at five stars， because some parts of the book were very slow to get through。 There were other parts that were incredibly compelling。 I'm thinking of the section on cemeteries and then Lyonik's story in particular。 I am going to be musing over this beautiful book for years to come。 。。。more

Katerina ，

Благодаря за утехата， която ми даде тази монументална книга。

Jodesz ，

“When I began to think seriously about my memories I had the startling realization that I had nothing left。”At the center of Maria Stepanova’s IN MEMORY OF MEMORY （translated by Sasha Dugdale） is her family’s past and how these personal histories interspersed in the bigger context of each period。 I’ve always been a fan of works that tackle the concept of memory。 It’s intriguing to see how writers approach the subject， to understand where they are coming from， and how their own memories intertwin “When I began to think seriously about my memories I had the startling realization that I had nothing left。”At the center of Maria Stepanova’s IN MEMORY OF MEMORY （translated by Sasha Dugdale） is her family’s past and how these personal histories interspersed in the bigger context of each period。 I’ve always been a fan of works that tackle the concept of memory。 It’s intriguing to see how writers approach the subject， to understand where they are coming from， and how their own memories intertwine with history。 In this book， Stepanova tries to make sense of her family’s past by juxtaposing them with what they left behind: Photographs， letters， and even their lasting impressions on their community， among others。 It’s like reading through an internal monologue as the writer grapples with what’s real and what’s just a concoction made up of her idea of the person， and the limits of one’s ability to grasp the experiences of ancestors through their personal histories。What I also enjoyed is how despite being a memoir at its core， Stepanova hardly gets trapped in sentimentality that usually is the case for works that centers on memories and the past。 I see her as this active participant that knows when to detach by meditating on other works， including those of Susan Sontag and Osip Mandelstam。 This book is so good， but definitely not an easy read。 But it’s really essential especially since we're in a period where there may be some people trying to reevaluate their understanding of memories， histories， and how these translate into the current times。 。。。more

Nathan Drake ，

Can any form encapsulate in an objective manner a phenomenon as subjective as memory？ Can anything about memory be classified as "non-fiction"？ The aforementioned questions are what probably led the Booker jury to include IN MEMORY OF MEMORY， a book classified as "nonfiction" by its publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions， in its International 2021 shortlist。 A similar predicament occured when Annie Ernaux's THE YEARS was included in the 2018 shortlist。 Which leads me to think， both are books are about Can any form encapsulate in an objective manner a phenomenon as subjective as memory？ Can anything about memory be classified as "non-fiction"？ The aforementioned questions are what probably led the Booker jury to include IN MEMORY OF MEMORY， a book classified as "nonfiction" by its publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions， in its International 2021 shortlist。 A similar predicament occured when Annie Ernaux's THE YEARS was included in the 2018 shortlist。 Which leads me to think， both are books are about memory and both are about chronicling the zeitgeist of a bygone era。 While Stepanova's lens is more personal， viewing the past century of Russia through the lens of her family history， Ernaux's lens is comparatively more panoramic， where the gaze is on everything but the personal。 But what is the connective tissue between these two works of non-fiction being shortlisted for prizes celebrating works of fiction is the fact that these are human accounts of events and what could be a more subjective lens than that of a human？Curiously subtitled as "A Romance"， Stepanova's IN MEMORY OF MEMORY begins as an account of the life of her aunt Galya， an account framed in a shape shifting form that at one moment is epistolary which then morphs into an anecdote which then morphs into an exposition about the phenomenon of memory which in turn morphs into literary criticism about the art of autofiction （a fictitious retelling of real events， a paradox in existence that is possible only in art）， the subtitle is a hint about the whole fiction/nonfiction debate surrounding the shortlisting of this book for a prize otherwise meant for fiction， a subtitle that tells us that memory even in its most unflinching is probably romantic in nature， probably due to the fact that an accurate to the last pixel recreation of a memory is probably something that isn't possible by the human brain yet， one can claim that they have crystal clear memory of a particular event， but。。。。。what about the leaf that was probably fluttering about？ Was it just one leaf？ Was there even a leaf？ A leaf could be a bottle thrown in a dustbin， the splash of water from a puddle， or any trivial detail akin to the aforementioned。 So， romanticization is probably what one indulges in while recalling a memory。 。。。more

Parvathy ，

The 20th century in Russia was eventful to say the least。 Stepanova， sifting through a dead aunt’s documents and photographs goes in search of her family’s history， lived through these tumultuous times。 It’s quite a task - there are gaps， scraps of writing and letters that don’t completely express feelings， photographs that don’t quite explain people and incidents， historical events that don’t find a way into her family’s story。 She attempts to fill them with her imagination， and in the process The 20th century in Russia was eventful to say the least。 Stepanova， sifting through a dead aunt’s documents and photographs goes in search of her family’s history， lived through these tumultuous times。 It’s quite a task - there are gaps， scraps of writing and letters that don’t completely express feelings， photographs that don’t quite explain people and incidents， historical events that don’t find a way into her family’s story。 She attempts to fill them with her imagination， and in the process explores the nature of memory， the rights of the dead， how digital photography has changed so much of remembering… There are rambles into the writings of Sebald and Mandelstam， the photographs of Francesca Woodman， the paintings of Rembrandt and Charlotte Salomon， the sculpture of Cornell。 It’s a long read， definitely not easy， but you persevere because Stepanova makes you curious about her Jewish and Russian family， while setting their story against the backdrop of the big Jewish and Russian history of the century。 This is one of those difficult reads that are just worth the extra time and effort。 。。。more

Britt-marie Ingdén-Ringselle ，

Ja， den var ok， men jag kunde inte riktigt ta till mig den。 Kanske för att jag lyssnade på den som talbok， eller för att jag lyssnade på den när Ryssland just invaderade Ukraina。。。

Kaiden Andy ，

I'm not sure how to review this book since it was so far from what I was expecting: not so much a novel about one family's history as a sprawling， rambling philosophical digression on the nature of memory held together by descriptions of photographs and objects we cannot see， excerpts of letters， and a few family stories。The author is trying to pin down all the fading memories of the family stories that she's heard over the years。 In a sense， the book is about about the impossibility of telling I'm not sure how to review this book since it was so far from what I was expecting: not so much a novel about one family's history as a sprawling， rambling philosophical digression on the nature of memory held together by descriptions of photographs and objects we cannot see， excerpts of letters， and a few family stories。The author is trying to pin down all the fading memories of the family stories that she's heard over the years。 In a sense， the book is about about the impossibility of telling these stories， of telling someone else's story， even the story of your own family。 At the same time， she uses this dive into the history of her ancestors to keep herself from being present， to erase herself from the telling of her own story。This is a family whose whose history was often cut off or lost because of massive generational and cultural trauma。 Even those who survived left so much behind and so much unspoken that it was impossible to hold those memories， to know them， to remember what they were really like， who they had been and what they had lived。 Their memory is shaped by the Holocaust， by communism， by being Jewish， by being Russian。Like real memory， this book is intersectional with other texts， with art， with culture; but when you don't know any of it you can't get situated， and everything becomes more fragmentary。 The use of memory to keep people out， to keep things closed within oneself， is another way in which it cannot be grasped。There is a juxtaposition of journalistic and personal narrative styles， and both in their own way conceal the horrors of war and persecution。 Memory hides itself at the same time as it exposes itself。 We are silently asked the question: is there any other way to remember？TW for descriptions of Auschwitz-Birkenau， Kristallnacht， Russian pogroms， siege of Leningrad， effects of starvation， European anti-Semitism， WWII destruction， political imprisonment， suicide。 。。。more

Paige ，

Beautiful， poetic book but too long。 I have to return it to the library after several renewals。

Catherine Woodman ，

The author is a poet， born in 1972， so she has seen quite a bit of what Russian history has to offer， through her own eyes and those of her elders。 She tells us that she’s been trying to write this book of her family history for years， in some sense ever since she was an only child， growing up with parents and grandparents and， for a while， a great-grandmother， too， in an apartment in Moscow crowded with the leftover possessions of past generations: their books， teacups， newspapers， clothes， pos The author is a poet， born in 1972， so she has seen quite a bit of what Russian history has to offer， through her own eyes and those of her elders。 She tells us that she’s been trying to write this book of her family history for years， in some sense ever since she was an only child， growing up with parents and grandparents and， for a while， a great-grandmother， too， in an apartment in Moscow crowded with the leftover possessions of past generations: their books， teacups， newspapers， clothes， postcards， toys， photographs， as well as fragments of family anecdote。 It’s the same apartment where she begins typing this fictionalized memoir， which is more like a scrapbook than a linear tale， and one that is not fraught with horrors， despite every opportunity to be exposed to them。 。。。more

Rebecca ，

Tr。 Sasha Dugdale。 I loved this but it wasn’t always an easy reading experience。 I rarely feel the need to read books in smaller chunks but this was one that benefited from such an approach - I sped through some parts （the more straightforward reminiscences or family histories） but the more philosophical elements needed much more time to digest。 In fairness I didn’t always appreciate these as I should have （I’m quite an impatient reader） but that didn’t detract from how much I loved the other pa Tr。 Sasha Dugdale。 I loved this but it wasn’t always an easy reading experience。 I rarely feel the need to read books in smaller chunks but this was one that benefited from such an approach - I sped through some parts （the more straightforward reminiscences or family histories） but the more philosophical elements needed much more time to digest。 In fairness I didn’t always appreciate these as I should have （I’m quite an impatient reader） but that didn’t detract from how much I loved the other parts， hence the overall rating。 。。。more

Nicole ，

Schrecklich。 Leider überhaupt nicht meines。 Furchtbar langweilig。 Über 400 Seiten langes "Was will der Künstler uns damit sagen？"。 Dabei kann ich so schon nichts mit Kunst anfangen。 Glücklicherweise konnte ich es ohne zusätzliche Kosten mit meinem Scribd-Abo hören。 Das Buch landet für mich auf den letzten Platz und hätte meiner Meinung nach gar nicht aufgestellt werden dürfen， da es bei dem Prize um Romane geht und das hier war kein Roman sondern eine Memoir。 Schrecklich。 Leider überhaupt nicht meines。 Furchtbar langweilig。 Über 400 Seiten langes "Was will der Künstler uns damit sagen？"。 Dabei kann ich so schon nichts mit Kunst anfangen。 Glücklicherweise konnte ich es ohne zusätzliche Kosten mit meinem Scribd-Abo hören。 Das Buch landet für mich auf den letzten Platz und hätte meiner Meinung nach gar nicht aufgestellt werden dürfen， da es bei dem Prize um Romane geht und das hier war kein Roman sondern eine Memoir。 。。。more

Annie Books ，

▪️“Notebooks are as essential daily activity for a certain type of person， loose-woven mesh on which they hang their clinging faith in reality and it’s continuing nature。”I was initially rather relieved to be finished this 500 pager。Maria Stepanova was born in 1972 in Moscow，Russia。 I was born in 1973 in Perth， Scotland。 Our lives have obviously been radically different but quite possibly our memory scrapbook - photos， letters， momentos， certificates - the very clutter of our lives - could trave ▪️“Notebooks are as essential daily activity for a certain type of person， loose-woven mesh on which they hang their clinging faith in reality and it’s continuing nature。”I was initially rather relieved to be finished this 500 pager。Maria Stepanova was born in 1972 in Moscow，Russia。 I was born in 1973 in Perth， Scotland。 Our lives have obviously been radically different but quite possibly our memory scrapbook - photos， letters， momentos， certificates - the very clutter of our lives - could travel on a parallel path in our minds。 I， however， would not choose to write about mine because quite frankly I’m sure I’d bore the pants off you。I started this insightful book with such high expectations but I allowed myself to become distracted and shamefully I bored myself too。 The fragments of information just wouldn’t coalesce into a whole cohesive experience for me。 And then I thought but maybe they don’t need to for me to admire this work。So I went back over the sections I marked and wrote out so many quotes that leave me with gratitude and satisfaction for having spent time with Maria’s memories and how they intersect with history， and allowed them to meld with my own; and so even though we are born a year apart in such different parts of the world we are now forever connected by words。I also thought about how the author is cataloguing the intersection of her family’s history with ‘official’ history which I guess must have been controlled in Soviet times。 And I’m thinking it’s going to be being controlled now too。 And I’m wondering about other Maria’s filling their notebooks across Russia now and what they might tell us in fifty years time。 I wonder what Russian history school books will be teaching their students of this period in fifty years time too， and how it may differ from our own history books。 Lies and alternative facts no doubt。“Break open a notebook at any point and be reminded of your own reality， because a notebook is a series of proofs that life has continuity and history， and （this is most important） that any point in your own past is still within your reach。”Perhaps， like me， you are also that certain type of notebook person。▪️▪️▪️ 。。。more

Walter Gay ，

Some parts were fantastic， others a bit of a slog

Jess ，

An interesting read given the current state of geo-political affairs。 A reminder that what we are living through is nothing new。 Not that I can really count my self among ‘we’， in a cozy apartment with an ocean to buffer the horror in Ukraine。 One day I’d like to think I’ll read this again though I doubt I ever will。 There are so many eloquent observations and reflections on memory as a concept， and as a lived experience。 The structure was creative but as such I found my self drifting - sometime An interesting read given the current state of geo-political affairs。 A reminder that what we are living through is nothing new。 Not that I can really count my self among ‘we’， in a cozy apartment with an ocean to buffer the horror in Ukraine。 One day I’d like to think I’ll read this again though I doubt I ever will。 There are so many eloquent observations and reflections on memory as a concept， and as a lived experience。 The structure was creative but as such I found my self drifting - sometimes with the author but often not。‘With the invention of digital photography， yesterday and today have coexisted with unprecedented intensity。 It’s as if the waste chute in a building has been blocked off and all the trash just keeps piling up forever。’ P 56 。。。more

Reference

google book https://www.google.com/search?tbm=bks&q=En memoria de la memoria

hathitrust digital library https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/ls?q1=En memoria de la memoria&field1=ocr&a=srchls&ft=ft&lmt=ft

The British Library https://bll01.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/discovery/search?query=any,contains,En memoria de la memoria&tab=LibraryCatalog&search_scope=Not_BL_Suppress&vid=44BL_INST:BLL01&lang=en&offset=0