The action of the dystopian novel takes place on an unnamed island, whose inhabitants, in conditions of a harsh dictatorship, from time to time are made to forget both certain objects and the words denoting them – their memories get erased. Simply put, when waking up early in the morning, people suddenly realize that ribbons, roses or birds have disappeared from their mental and linguistic picture of the world. Control over the enforced disappearance of anything that could remind of a censored object and concept behind it is exercised by the so-called "memory police". Breaking into houses and conducting checks and searches, they confiscate photographs, books, drawings, and diaries – should a new forbidden word be found there.
An accidental encounter with Ogawa's book, intuitively purchased from an airport bookstore, reminded me of the current situation in Belarus where I come from – the Japanese writer's storyline turned out to have much in common with repressions, arrests, and trials of people whose possessions began to be considered as prohibited. At first, dresses, scarves, bracelets, and curtains were claimed to be of the "wrong" color (the official authorities have recently begun to link a combination of red and white with extremism, despite their indisputable historical significance and presence in the official state symbols of the Republic of Belarus during the period from 1918-1919 and 1991-1995) and thus people who owned them were imprisoned or fined.
Moreover, soon penalties were imposed on thoughts and intentions – as in the episode of the activist Ulyana Nevzorova's poster that read, "This poster may be a reason for my detention". The girl held it for a few minutes in the subway car indirectly dropping hints about the lawlessness of the judicial system. There have also been cases of people being sentenced to more than 10 days of imprisonment for "expressing tacit consent" with peaceful protesters.
In the country with a speaking name "the last dictatorship of Europe", people are repressed because of their "intentions", "condemning silence" and "mental solidarity". And all these episodes are not scenes from a dystopian novel but the reality with 10 million civilians trapped in the nightmare which "logic" cannot be explained in terms of critical thinking and human vocabulary.
Ogawa describes recollections as a reliable compass that helps to "wander through the sparse forest of memory" – the Belarusian authorities, judging by their actions, are actively trying to isolate "modern history keepers" and stop the very fact of formation of evidence. To lay the only, asphalted, road through the forest, tamping into the cold silent concrete everyone who was able and was ready to share what they saw and experienced. For Ogawa, books are "repositories of human memories", but I suggest adding to this list of comparisons any media able to store the memory of a person, a family, and a nation: photographs, art, oral stories, even posts on social networks – the fastest and simplest way of recording one's own experience nowadays…