A Warmhearted Journey: Amy Schrader on Stefan Merrill Block’s The Story of Forgetting


story-of-forgetting

The Story of Forgetting, Stefan Merrill Block, Random House

I’ve been reading poetry almost exclusively for about three years running, so I was both excited and a little wary upon picking up The Story of Forgetting, Stefan Merrill Block’s debut novel. It had been so long since I’d read so many words at one go…I guess I’d forgotten how one can become immersed in a story, carried effortlessly along by fictional devices. Luckily, Block’s novel provided an immediate reminder of such pleasures.

The novel’s strength lies in the clear, compelling voices of the two main characters, Abel Haggard and Seth Waller. Block moves seamlessly between these two narrative threads. Abel Haggard, a 68-year old hunchbacked hermit, is constantly haunted by memories of his now-absent family. Seth Waller is an awkward adolescent who strives for what he hopes will be an impenetrable protective wall, or “Mastery of Nothingness,” but actually manifests more as “weirdness with nothing to compensate for it…nothing greater or more profound than its zit-encrusted, slouching, skittish, Too-Smart surface.” (225) These two characters are simultaneously repulsive and endearing, and my fondness for them kept me reading.

The plot is relatively simple: Seth embarks on a research project to uncover his mother’s mysterious family history in order to fully understand her familial curse of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. The plot also captured my interest for most of the book—a genetic mystery novel!—although the final discovery is not particularly surprising or unexpected, which was a little disappointing. The main storyline intercuts two different threads: textbook-ish and scientific information about Alzheimer’s disease, and a fable about Isidora, a mythical land of forgetting. I enjoyed the science more than the myth; the Isidora chapters come across as too broad, and a little heavy-handed in terms of the allegory and “memory loss” symbolism.

Perhaps my poetry bias caused me to be particularly charmed by the novel’s sharp and well-defined details. Block is deft at setting a scene, fleshing out even the most minor characters: Abel’s horse (Iona); Abel’s truck (humorously named The Horseless Iona); and Seth’s classmate Victoria Bennett, nicknamed The Sloth “slouching and sluggish…her hair was a long brown tangle…whenever possible, she avoided predators by disappearing into the trees.” (79) Block certainly knows his social outcasts presenting them with humor as well as unflinching honesty.

The author also offers many lovely—almost lyrical—moments, such as the description of the game Seth plays with his mother before her illness takes over: “My mom and I also had another game…one of us would start to pretend to be the other…” (125) The novel was the most interesting and original in these moments, and the interactions that Abel and Seth have with the more minor characters best reveal their foundational human-ness. In the end, I wanted a little more of these elements—and less of high-concept historical mystery and science—but enjoyed the warmhearted journey nonetheless.

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