I have the tendency to linger in the nostalgia of my childhood memories. Besides reading the diaries I have kept for years and gazing at photographs of me as a child, I often think about particular moments of my childhood. Those recollections puzzle me sometimes, I do get the feeling that those are memories of memories of memories and so on (like Martha did), still, I went through live hammering on a few memories without even knowing why I keep coming back to them.
Of these moments I have neither a photograph nor an account in any of my old diaries, and I always turn to my mother in order to validate them. I tell her of a childhood memory I have and wait for her confirmation that in fact it happened. I don’t even know why her confirmation is so important to me, I mean, it still could have happened without being an important memory for her to retain. And this brings me back to my puzzling question: Why did I retain them then, when there were important things that happened to my family of which I have no recollection at all? And why does it appear to be important to me to feel that they really happened?
Martha Cochrane says that she can’t remember her first memory. Being her definition of a first memory “a solid, seizable thing, which time, in its plodding, humorous way might decorate down the years with fanciful detail (…) but could never expunge” (Page 3), we can understand from this that even if we do claim to recall our first memories the actual event was probably a very different thing from the one we remember, like Martha’s memory of playing with the jigsaw on the kitchen floor, a memory that is described as “her first artfully, innocently arranged lie” (page 4)
We can thus think about this: Are all of our memories false memories? Are they all the product of the testimony of others, of fertile imagination or of just the urge to justify our present actions or present ideologies with some sort of root? If there is any truth to the statement: “Childhood was remembered in a succession of incidents which explained why you were the person you had turned out to be” (Page 242), then it is quite safe to agree that all of our memories are fallacious. And like Primo Levi avowed, “the memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features”.
And from this another question might arise: If a person can construct a false memory, can a whole nation do so as well? As an attempt to answer this question we may consider the episode of the divergence of opinion between Martha and her Spanish friend, Cristina, about Sir Francis Drake. Martha as an English girl believed Sir Francis Drake to be “an English hero” and a “Gentleman” (Page 7), although Cristina perceived him as a “pirate” (page 7). This episode alone speaks in favor of a construction of Historic memories based upon the way a country wishes to be kept in History and preserved in Time.
“History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.”
Percy Shelley
