Memory is one of the most curious abilities that humans have. How they can never truly be objective and no memory of the same event will appear the same due to the different bodies perceiving them. The recollection of these events is also fascinating. Why is it that some memories seem to be lost forever and others replay in our minds as if they happened yesterday.
When something particularly great occurs, my desires for that particular memory is that they will never diminish. That they will remain vivid. Latching on to an event that once brought so much joy, a memory sometimes won’t suffice as our only desire is to relive what was so great. This is if the memory is pleasant and delightful. Unfortunately not all of our human encounters appear to be sunshine and flowers therefore certain relapses can alter the perceptions of our own self. Tyler’s first experience of putting on a dress had obviously been a vulnerable one and Mrs. Ramchandin was able to allow Tyler to just be. As a souvenir because apparently the objects we hold onto create some sort of validation for our experience, Tyler holds onto the dress. “I stuffed the dress and stockings behind her dresser, deciding to keep if not to wear it again, at least for the memory of some power it seemed to have imparted. It had been a day and an evening to treasure. I had never felt so extremely ordinary, and I quite love it” (Mootoo 78). My initial reactions to this whole scene was a pretty pleasant one. Tyler felt accepted maybe for the first time ever. But the mere reality of the situation is that even if he was never going to put on the dress again, his only memory of feeling ordinary was only for a tiny moment. His only good recollection of the way he feels lasted for a moment that possibly outweighs a lifetime of unpleasant memories. Clinging to a good moment can reveal the amount that one has suffered through out their lifetime.
The issue of memory in this novel is a very complex one. While we hear these stories that Tyler must be learning from Mala, they are incredibly vividly told, yet when Mala tries to remember her mother’s face, or that of Asha or Aunt Lavinia, she seems to draws a blank. It is upsetting to think that she cannot remember these very comforting things, but the scenes of violence are narrated with a huge amount of detail, perhaps implying that those are what Mala remembers best from her youth.