Friday, March 10, 2006

Mental note

I complain about my memory. Forgetting where I put stuff, forgetting to do things...

picture this: not being able to forget anything.

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Jorge Luis Borges, the great Argentine writer of the 20th century, wrote of the Uruguayan Funes the Memorious, whose perception and memory became infallible after falling from a horse in the mid 1880s:

We, in a glance, perceive three wine glasses on the table; Funes saw all the shoots, clusters, and grapes of the vine. He remembered the shapes of the clouds in the south at dawn on the 30th of April of 1882, and he could compare them in his recollection with the marbled grain in the design of a leather-bound book which he had seen only once, and with the lines in the spray which an oar raised in the Rio Negro on the eve of the battle of the Quebracho. These recollections were not simple; each visual image was linked to muscular sensations, thermal sensations, etc. He could reconstruct all his dreams, all his fancies. Two or three times he had reconstructed an entire day.

And thus Ireneo Funes lived like no other before or since, remembering all that had happened to him. And remembering that he remembered. This vicious cycle led not to the incalculable awakening of genius that one might expect. Instead, it led to the opposite: a painful sagacity of everything he wished to forget.

(From bokardo.com)

8 comments:

Sara said...

Hey! You just emailed me this today! I won't repeat my comment then, because others might see it and realize what total geeks we both are. Hope things are well...even if you can't remember anything!

Unknown said...

It turns out, that I'd read this assuming it was nonfiction, but it is actually not true- just an interesting premise for a story.
Wikipedia points out there's a savant in England, Daniel Tammet, who has a similar condition, but he's contemporary and Funes was written in the forties - so hardly a parallel (and, quite frankly, Tammet's gifts are more narrowly focused).

Ah, well - it's an interesting thought. Particularly the notion that if you remember everything in specifics – you’d become incapable of generalization or abstraction.

Anonymous said...

What about this story I heard on NPR. This girl had a high fever at about the age of 17 (probably encephalitis, but it's never been diagnosed for sure). When she woke up, she didn't remember _anything_. Her father's voice was vaguely familiar.

They interviewed her and her sister at age 23, and she said in some ways, it was liberating to forget everything. Her whole personality changed, and she started getting along better with her sister, among other things.

Imagine, at age 17, you forget everything - your parents' (teachers', community's, etc.) expectations of you, how good or bad you are at various subjects in school, what "clique" you do or don't belong to and why... How would your life be different? Would it be better in any way?

Anonymous said...

My sister and I have strikingly different memories of our childhood, I always say I was raised by my parents and she was raised by wolves. I think the burden of an infalliable memory would be tolerating people whose recollections differ and not thinking everyone an idiot because of their inaccuracies. It's a great concept, and long documented by greater ponderers than us. I'm thinking of Biblical references to God's short memory of our transgressions and recommendations we take similar attitudes. It's like a family my mom knows who lost their house to fire and were so relieved to be free of their clutter and sentimental keepsakes they had accumulated. Thanks for the interesting topic to ponder.
Cheesehead's Wife

Unknown said...

There's a novel out there called Spilling Clarence -that I'm considering getting. It's about a town that is suddenly blessed and cursed with total recall.

Anonymous said...

Reading a book - you're so cute.
I fondly recall and greatly look forward to books with more than ten words on a page and the pictures in one's head. If it's not about a firetruck, Strawberry Shortcake, or all the animals that start with the letter S, I'm only dreaming about it for the next six years.
Cheesehead's Wife

Unknown said...

Y'know I was about to say something supportive and empathic, but your husband just emailed me and pointed out you just got back from a trip to Ireland.

Empathy gone - replaced by raw jealousy...

How was it?

Anonymous said...

Ireland was AMAZING!!! I had high expectations, and was blown away. The history was richer, the people were warmer, the scenery was more breathtaking, and the castles more majestic than I had imagined.
Every day, often more than once a day, I said to Sarah (my sister) "Murph and Eileen would love this." I said the same about Craig, Gabe, my dad, my kids, and many others, but definitely you guys. There was this one pub that had a soccer game on one side and a gang of musicians on the other playing Irish traditional music. Great beer and food, too.
6000 year old passage tombs, 1500 year old round towers, 800 year old castles, and fresh scones with tea.
In a word: it was magical.

More details when you come to see the pictures. all 212 of them.

Wife of Cheesehead