Princess Cornflakes

Too trashy to print on a cereal box

Memories

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Whenever I read about a postmodern book or some postmodern art, it is always described as being “about” memory. Memory is big in the arena of postmodernism. I can understand why. If Frederic Jameson described postmodernism as a state of being surrounded by free-floating symbols and images, with no connection to the past, then we become increasingly dependent on our memories to create the context and narratives of our lives. This allows us more creative freedom, but less of a common experience. I have been reading a “postmodern fiction” book, entitled “The Emigrants”, by W.G. Sebald. The book is wonderful. Sebald creates a story entirely from his memories and the memories of his characters. It is not an “official” story or account of anything or any official history though the story is roughly interconnected by the experience of emigrating from Germany and Switzerland at the time of the Nazi movement, and roughly about the experience of German Jews. At times it’s vague and foggy, like memories are. It’s also very personal and chronicles little details of life, instead of big important events like battles or political movements. I really enjoy it.

The book also makes me think of the importance of my memories in my own time and place. It seems like some memories are acceptable, while others are discouraged, if not downright insurgent. For example, I am welcome to laugh and share in the good-natured criticism of tacky late-70’s styles while looking at “retro” advertising or a “retro” film like Napolean Dynamite. If a corporate creative department encourages me to remember, that’s ok. But what about my real memories of a period? For example, I have memories of airline travel during the late 70’s, having been lucky enough to be able to fly to Greece as a little kid. I remember being treated like royalty on the airline, given free food and top-notch service, etc. Of course, if I bring these memories up to an airline rep today as evidence of a decline in service, they treat me like I’m wasting their time. I know because I tried it once.

So go ahead, share your real memories with people, even if they’re critical. The real memories of individuals are far more interesting than the official memories with which corporations and entertainment industry would like to program us.

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Written by nattie

December 2, 2005 at 6:08 pm

Posted in Heather

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