Memories are fickle creatures. We rely on the untrustworthy buggers for a genuine sense of identity. We stand upon them. We use them as maps, shields, microscopes, even weapons. They’re embedded in our DNA. We cling to them, desperately, even though we know that while our experiences are real, they aren’t entirely true.
Then what?
How do we bridge the gap between truth and reality?
I usually like to build one out of popsicle sticks and then see how much weight it can hold. Unfortunately, I tend to focus more on aesthetic over sturdiness, sooooo…it’s beautiful before it instantaneously splinters into oblivion.
I should probably talk to my therapist about that.
Memorial, by Bryan Washington, is that bridge for its protagonists, Mike and Benson, an interracial couple wondering if they should stay together. The character arch for each of them is spun entirely of shadows that both haunt and inform them. These shadows impact more than their own personal development. They cloud relationships. When you can’t see clearly though fog, it’s a nightmare trying to find your way out.
Who Owns the Truth?
There was a TV show back in the non-streaming olden days where couples would air their grievance in front of a panel of celebrity judges. The judges would decide whose argument was valid and thus end the conflict.
Shit, I can’t remember what it was called. I don’t want to Google this. I know it existed.
Ah, fuck.
(saunters to Google)
Oh no.
(saunters to YouTube)
Ok, well I’m back. The show was called The Marriage Ref, produced by Jerry Seinfeld and hosted by Tom Papa and the celebrity panel for Season 1, Episode 8 was Adam Carolla, Gloria Estefan, and Donald Trump.
Donald Trump.
Weighing in on marital conflicts.
I also stumbled upon a clip from Adam Carolla’s podcast where, after some casual misogyny and dude bro chuckles, he and the other guy voice he’s talking to agree that they’d do anything The Donald asked of them, without question. Money and power, man, money and power.
FORESHADOWING! ADAM CAROLLA YOU SON OF A BITCH!
There was a point to this.
Memorial, nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award, provides two points of view on the same relationship. Naturally, contradictions bubble up. Before Mike is allowed to take over as narrator, our opinion of him has already been shaped by Benson. Poor Benson who is about to meet Mike’s mother (visiting from Japan) for the first time, but psych! Mike is leaving, traveling back to Japan to be by the side of his dying, estranged father, leaving his mother and black boyfriend living together without him for an undetermined amount of time.
Who does that?
It’s easy to plant your flag firmly on Benson’s side as he tries to balance this sudden change of environment, all while dealing with his own fraught family dynamics. He speaks about Mike’s ambivalence, their violent arguments, the open relationship Benson didn’t want. Moment after moment, the choice feels like a no-brainer. Why can’t either of them pull the cord?
Then the story is handed to Mike and Washington crafts this handoff brilliantly. Mike doesn’t ramble through a recap. He rather takes us through his time with his father, significantly focusing on his own past before sharing memories of Benson.
It’s a palette cleanser. Washington gives us a buffer between Benson’s Mike and Mike’s own self. By the time Mike does begin speaking about Benson, we see Mike as a complete person. He’s easier to understand and maybe even forgive. His unflattering memories of Benson only serve to make Benson a complete person as well. And it reminds us that often when relationships slowly dissipate, there is no one culprit.
Benson and Mike are both right at the same time, though their truths are at odds. The choice isn’t who’s right and who’s wrong. The choice is whether or not to build the bridge.
“But I guess that’s the thing: we take our memories wherever we go, and what’s left are the ones that stick around, and that’s how we make a life.”
Memorial, by Bryan Washington
In Honor of Those Who Came Before
Blending two personal journeys into one is difficult at best, catastrophe at worst. Mike’s father left his family when Mike was a child. Benson’s father was an alcoholic who never fully recovered from divorce. Both relationships are fraught with distrust, betrayal, and loss which inevitably spills into the day-to-day life Mike and Benson share.
Run away on a whim? Yeah, of course. Infidelity? Well duh, that’s how it goes. Share honest feelings? Come on, now. No one has time for that baloney.
Yet taking the time to address the past might just be what Mike and Benson need, though not with each other. Mike’s time in Japan is revitalizing and enlightening. He jumps right in despite knowing the experience will end in pain. Family secrets are revealed as Mike defines for himself what it means to be a son.
Benson, meanwhile, is living with Mike’s mother who is quick to correct and comment. Slowly they forge a unique camaraderie, bonding in the kitchen with one of the best ways to show care; food. Benson also struggles to connect to his father, feeling forced to spend time with him, and remaining insecure in his presence. On top of all that, Benson works in a day care. He’s clearly great with kids and loves the job, but let it be known any job involving children can sometimes leave people wanting to rip their own organs out.
Every single character we meet plays a direct role in the dynamic between Mike and Benson. Benson never meets Mike’s father, Eiju, yet is cloaked in the shadows of Eiju’s character and choices. Mike did not grow up in an alcoholic household, yet he lives in the echo of one.
And so memories pile up, higher and higher, until it starts to waver, swaying back and forth. Do you jump or do you keep climbing up?
If you get to the top, what do you hope to see?
Worth Remembering?
Memorial was a fine read and well developed. Ironically, though, I’m not sure if it’s a book I’ll look back on or think of often. I enjoyed the experience, I felt I knew these characters as I would good friends. There were many “aws” and “that’s nice” and “that’s sad” thought throughout.
While it may not be a page turner, the people Bryan Washington creates are wonderful to spend time with. Additionally, it’s a true joy to read a novel, a love story, an inner-angst work of fiction about a gay couple where their relationship is examined as just that; a relationship, with all the usual complications that come when two different people love each other.
And in case you’re wondering, no, I cannot find any video of Trump on The Marriage Ref and no, this is not an invitation for anyone to find it.
Just knowing it exists is too much.
Let’s agree to forget about it.
Buy Memorial from your favorite indie bookstore or my favorite indie bookstore, Quail Ridge Books. Or go to the library!
Lemon Squeezy 