MEMORIAL (Book Review)

By Bryan Washington

(Riverhead Books, 2020)

This is the story of two young gay men, one Black, one Japanese, living together in Houston. They’ve been in a relationship for a couple of years and their future is uncertain. Going forward may be the easier option, but is it the right one?

 

Time doesn’t stand still to allow people to stop and assess a situation. In most cases, there isn’t even the space to permit two people to step into a bubble to talk things through, uninterrupted. There always seems to be other matters and other people to attend to. That is no different for Benson and Mike. 

 

Enter the mother. Mike’s. She’s flown in from Japan to see her son, but Mike hasn’t told her he’s flying out the next day to Japan to see and take care of his dying dad, from whom he’s estranged. This will leave Mike’s mother with Ben, at Mike and Ben’s place, until Mike returns, whenever that may be, if he returns at all.

 

If you’re like me, or basically any somewhat logical person, you’ll want to ponder that setup again. What?! Why would someone allow his mother to fly from another continent for a visit only to take off, leaving her with a boyfriend whom, by the way, she’s never met? Why, in fact, would he allow her to fly in from the country where he’s going? Sure, she lives in Tokyo and the father, her ex, lives in Osaka but, even without checking Google Maps[1], most of us know that Houston is a hell of a long way from either Japanese city. Who would do that to his mother? Who would do that to his partner?

 

You have to go with the premise. You have no choice…unless you wish to abandon the book and go back to watching reruns of “Friends” or pick up a different book about something more plausible, something perhaps with sharks that fly and humans that shoot bullets from their nostrils.

 

I chose to read on. Nostril warfare sounds too violent. Still, for a story in which I think author Bryan Washington wants you to like both of the main characters, Mike is starting off at a distinct disadvantage. I mean, what an asshole, right? Sure, he’s off on a noble mission to take care of his father, but he knew about the father’s situation before his mother made the flight. She’s the one who broke the news to him…while she was still in Tokyo! 

 

The dying dad is an acceptable plot point to separate the two men, to allow them to think about where their relationship is at. The de facto mother-in-law being forced to live with the boyfriend is an unnecessary contrivance. Why does she even choose to stay in Houston when her son bails on her? Presumably, she’s going to have to fly back anyway. Why would she stick around?

 

I do like “Friends,” but I haven’t gotten into watching it in syndication. I suppose I could’ve watched the Olympics. But I didn’t. I said, Okay, lame premise, I’ll stop questioning you and try my best to focus on what will become of Ben and Mike. 

 

The story is told in three large chunks, the first and final parts told from Benson’s point of view while in Houston and the middle section is Mike’s experience in Japan. I didn’t feel like the two characters’ voices were distinguishable enough, something that is a challenge for most writers. Different POVs (points of view) is a fun structure to take on, but it works best when the characters are wildly different. Both Mike and Ben come off with similar outlooks, ennui mixed with indecision, which happens to be a potent combo to create a sort of paralysis. Their relationship is just hanging there. Maybe it’ll continue. Maybe it won’t. Even a shoulder shrug requires too much effort.

 

It’s all stereotypically millennial. I don’t care. Or maybe I do. Why should I have to figure it out?

 

Indeed, why should I?

 

Unfortunately, it’s not just the two main characters who can’t truly express themselves. Every other character seems just as incapable or unwilling. From Ben’s father to both of Mike’s parents, to a younger guy who works for Mike’s father, they all live shrouded in cloaks with stenciling on the back that says, “Don’t make me say or do anything I might really mean.” It’s taboo for anyone to express any sort of fondness for anyone else. Of course, they do. Begrudgingly. Fleetingly. Not directly but snidely, gruffly, often through action that goes against surface statements that would indicate otherwise. If it were one character, a reader might think, Well, isn’t she a curmudgeon? When it’s everyone, the thought is, Why am I still reading this? 

 

It’s going to sound cheap, but I kept reading because I bought the hardcover book last fall, paying thirty-six bucks Canadian, a harder pill to swallow when the book jacket reminds me it’s only twenty-seven American.  The book had been resting on my coffee table, begging to be picked up but being ignored (and too rarely dusted) because I was inundated with all the holds I’d placed on books from the library while it was shut down during lockdown. My pickups at the Have to Read nook at my local branch kept coming, three or four at a time. Ignoring Memorial for so long, I felt more duty-bound to read it all the way through. All those feelings of abandonment it had, seemingly forgotten alongside a heavily faded New York Times article I’d cut out about men getting neck lifts…I had to make it up to it.  (I’ll blame this extended period of total and pseudo lockdown for the fact I’ve come to think of books as my sad clique, a group they, no doubt, never wanted to be a part of. There’s no point in scrutinizing whether my pre-pandemic life was any less sad or weird.) 

 

So, yeah, I stuck with the book, reading it until the end.

 

The strange thing is, despite having legitimate things to bicker about with Memorial, I did not hate the book. I suppose I liked it, in that same sort of begrudging way that some of its characters may have liked each other. I cared about Ben and Mike the way I care about relationships of friends that got off to a good start but now seem to be coasting, drifting aimlessly. I found myself rooting for the fictional pair just as I root for my friends. Sometimes having the luxury of a bit of distance from the epicentre of a relationship, one can see its continuing value and put aside the daily moments of dissatisfaction and the wonders of whether there could be something better out there. But then that distance of outsiders like me includes an unknowing as to how dysfunctional things may be. Washington gives us some insight. Things are definitely dysfunctional with Ben and Mike. Is what they have enough?  

 

I do recommend Memorial despite its flaws. We all know relationships like Ben and Mike’s. We all know of people who shrug aplenty, but never take a step. An ex of mine was fond of that crass expression, “There comes a time when you have to shit or get off the pot.” It’s the kind of thing one--or all--of these characters might say. Bryan Washington is a good writer. I’m interested in reading more of his work. With more life experiences of his own, I hope he’ll develop more varied characters and plots with more oomph. 

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[1] Okay, I went there…to Google Maps, that is. Driving distance from Tokyo to Osaka: 506 kilometres. Flight time: one hour. Driving distance from Houston to Osaka: CAN’T DO IT! Physical distance 11,075 kilometres. Flight time: seventeen hours.