“That loving a person means letting them change when they need to. And letting them go when they need to. And that doesn’t make them any less of a home. Just maybe not one for you. Or only for a season or two. But that doesn’t diminish the love. It just changes forms.” (p. 181). Kindle Edition.
Memorial is the story of Benson and Mike, a gay couple living in a historically black neighborhood of Houston, Texas. The book is written in sections from each character’s point of view. Although the reader might conclude that they love each other, the story elaborates on their relationship’s flaws. Benson is a sensitive childcare provider at a daycare for school-aged children, and Mike is a talented cook for a restaurant. In addition to exploring the history and status of the facets of their dealings with each other, the author intertwines the matters related to Benson’s being Black and Mike’s Japanese heritage. Benson came from a middle-class family, and Mike’s family struggled to make ends meet. So, there are racial and class concerns in the way they communicate and solve their problems. Each main character’s upbringing is discussed in detail, and it becomes apparent that their relationships with their fathers were difficult and damaging to their growth. Both fathers abuse alcohol, and neither accepts his son’s gayness. Ben and Mike must endure taunting from their fathers regarding their sexuality. Additionally, both fathers had been abusive to their mothers, and each set of parents is presently estranged.
Mike’s mother, Mitsuko, visits from Japan and plans to stay at Ben and Mike’s apartment. Soon after she arrives, Mike leaves the country to go to Japan and take care of his dying father, Eiju. So, Ben is left to share the apartment with Mike’s mother. Mitsuko cooks for Ben regularly and establishes a motherly, nurturing relationship with Ben. It seems at first that she just wants to get to know the man that her son loves, but after some time, they engage in meaningful dialog and end up having discussions in the way that Ben wishes he could talk to Mike.
Bryan Washington writes in a social media style with short quips and conversations. He uses reminiscing and musing effectively to create a memorable story. There are no quotation marks, yet great quotes. At the end of the book, as the main characters continue to reflect upon the traits they have acquired or inherited from family members, Mitsuko speaks profound yet straightforward wisdom: “You’re all like your fathers.”
It is fascinating to read how this young author emphasized parental activities as viewed by adult offspring.
From Ben: “Ever since she got remarried, my mother’s toggled between her old vices and her new life: She started going to church again, because of her new husband’s profession and the need to show face. But she also picked up her cigarettes again, because she loved them, and my father couldn’t stand them. She changed her entire wardrobe. She started swearing. She started smiling, deeply and widely.” (p. 70). Kindle Edition.
From Mike: “My father had scribbled a bunch of lists, all of them in the tiniest handwriting. Grocery lists. Train routes. Practical shit. But then there were other things. Like, a brief list of things Eiju didn’t believe in: socks, fate, predetermination, promises. Chili oil. Locked doors. Christmas cards. Christmas. Savings accounts. Birthday parties, gifts. Ultimatums. Last strikes. Luck.” (p. 134). Kindle Edition.
