Reading depends on memory: when one thing reminds you of another, however vaguely, both make sense. Even when the devil is in the plot, memory counts: the detective reminds the house party that the wound was inflicted from the left and you kick yourself for not remembering, once it's been pointed out, that one of the guests swung her beads in her left hand. In this special sense, memory works both ways: what comes after has an effect on what comes before. A book without a memory - where each thing is written as if seen for the first or only time - would be a nightmare.

LRB 6 September 2001 | PDF Download