Broken-hearted and alone, a retired Shakespearean actor sifts through the possessions of his dead love in a desperate attempt to keep his dreams of her alive. The discovery of a strange bottle containing the liquescent record of another human being—memories, feelings, experiences—gives Boris hope that another such bottle exists; one that contains the distilled essence of his lost Année. A desperate quest to posses her last thoughts will wrench him away from everything he has ever known to an alien world beyond the stars, where the human soul can be bottled, stored—and savored.
Jeannie Bergmann, a poet, science-fiction writer, artist, and web designer, maintains madpoetry.org, a public-service poetry site for Madison, WI. Journals in which her poems appear include Analog, Asimov’s Science Fiction, North American Review, Riddled with Arrows, Right Hand Pointing, Silver Blade, and Spectral Realms.
She has won the 2017 Gold Line Press poetry chapbook contest, the 2015 Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association’s Rhysling Award for the Long Poem, the WFOP 65th Anniversary Poetry Contest, the 2013 SFPA Elgin Chapbook Award, the 2012 Rannu Fund for Speculative Literature Award for Poetry, Heartland Review’s 2011 Joy Bale Boone Poetry Prize, both the Theme and Poet’s Choice divisions of the 2010 WFOP Triad competition, received an International Publication Prize in the 2010 Atlanta Review contest, won the 2009 Tapestry of Bronze contest, and won the 2008 SFPA Rhysling Award for the Short Poem. She is the poetry editor of Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, the managing editor of MadHat Press, and the former editor of Star*Line, the journal of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association. She has judged poetry contests and is available for readings and workshops.
One of the most frustrating things about grieving the loss of a loved one is the finality of death. Over time I’ve forgotten small details about my deceased friends and family members- the sound of their laughter, for example, or what it felt like to slip into old conversational patterns with them. What if this didn’t have to occur, though? How would the act of grieving change if it was possible to bottle the essence of a human being and reawaken all of those seemingly inconsequential memories?
The nostalgia in Remember Me drapes over the narrative like a warm embrace. More than anything Boris wishes he could have more time with his Année. Boris’ sorrow is nuanced and at times comes out in surprising ways. I wasn’t expecting to sympathize with his experiences so deeply but this story followed the emotional roller coaster of grief so well that more than once I felt as if I was walking in Boris’ shadow.
In the beginning I wished readers could know more about what Boris and Année’s lives were like before her death. One scene made me wonder if Boris’s personality and habits changed dramatically after Année’s death. In a longer piece it would have made sense to explore this possibility in greater detail but perhaps a sequel will be written one day to explore Boris’s character in greater detail! The ending certainly lends itself to this possibility.
Remember Me is one of the most realistic snapshots of grief I have ever read. It’s a difficult experience to capture especially in the short story format but Ms. Bergmann did a beautiful job recreating the messy, sometimes complicated process of mourning.