Mother and daughter tied together by shame and secrecy, love and hate.I wait by the bed. I move into her line of vision and it's as though we're watching one another, my mother and me; two women – trapped. Today has been a long time coming. Irene sits at her mother's side waiting for the right moment, for the point at which she will know she is doing the right thing by Rose.Rose was Irene's little sister, an unwanted embarrassment to their mother Lilian but a treasure to Irene. Rose died thirty years ago, when she was eight, and nobody has talked about the circumstances of her death since. But Irene knows what she saw. Over the course of 24 hours their moving and tragic story is revealed – a story of love and duty, betrayal and loss – as Irene rediscovers the past and finds hope for the future. "...A book that is both powerful and moving, exquisitely penetrating. I am drawn in, empathising so intensely with Irene that I feel every twinge of her frustration, resentment, utter weariness and abiding love." Thorne Moore "Judith Barrow's greatest strength is her understanding of her characters and the times in which they live; The Memory is a poignant tale of love and hate in which you will feel every emotion experienced by Irene." Terry Tyler The new novel from the bestselling author of the Howarth family saga
Judith Barrow, originally from Saddleworth, a group of villages on the edge of the Pennines, has lived in Pembrokeshire, Wales, for over forty years. She has an MA in Creative Writing with the University of Wales Trinity St David's College, Carmarthen. BA (Hons) in Literature with the Open University, a Diploma in Drama from Swansea University. She is a Creative Writing tutor and holds private one to one workshops on all genres.
This was a very emotional read. So emotionally taxing for me that I had to take my time getting through the book. This is not a negative point but rather shows my personal experience with the power the words in this book had on me. Irene is the main character in the book, whose life dramatically changes when her sister is born. She is eight years old and her excitement in welcoming a sibling is palpable and endearing, yet an excitement soon overshadowed by her mother’s retreat and bitterness. She does not want to accept her second daughter, Rose, as her own, denying her cries for love and attention. The sadness that encroaches on the whole family is quickly revealed – Rose has Down’s Syndrome which also gives her a fragile health that requires a lot of care. It’s a demand that her mother cannot bear. With dedication and determination, Irene becomes her surrogate mother, well supported by her grandmother, father and her best friend Sam. Despite her mother rejecting her, Rose receives a lot of tenderness and I wonder what would have happened if her mother had had psychological support to voice her feelings. This is a thought that kept coming to my mind because I have experienced first-hand that a child with special needs born to parents who do not expect it can have devastating consequences. In the case of my friends, the couple was saved by wonderful family support but also by therapy which can help accepting the unexpected. The family in this story live through the 60s onwards which wasn’t as yet in tune with mental health issues and the importance to consider the fact that it is not easy to face the unforeseen. The narrative switches between past and present and we sense that both Irene and her mother have had to carry the past with them in very different ways. I will not say more because Barrow has added an interesting back story to the plot, something the reader knows will only be revealed at the very end. It underlines the fact that we cannot ever really know what goes on in a person’s head and heart. I read and reviewed The Memory based on a copy of the book kindly supplied by the publisher. I’m very pleased to have discovered the author’s writing.
There are some stories, the moment you begin reading them, they draw you in. The Memory is such a story. It contains a cornucopia of detail, recalling both the times, in vivid detail, and the intricacies of the relationships between the main protagonists.
When Rose is born – a Down syndrome baby – for her older sister Irene, she is a precious gift.
“She was so tiny. But right from the beginning I thought she had a personality of her own and we’d gaze into one another’s eyes: me studying the flecks of white deep in her irises, Rose staring up at me, willing me to understand her needs.”
Irene instinctively knows what Rose needs and struggles to understand why their mother, Lilian, can’t bear to be near the baby. Irene makes herself responsible for her little sister. As does her best friend Sam who will one day become Irene’s husband. Three decades on, long after little Rose has died, aged eight, Irene and Sam are living with and caring for Lilian, who is suffering from dementia.
And still, no one is talking about the secret surrounding Rose’s death. Irene remembers what she saw – or is her memory flawed?
Over the course of 24 hours, struggling with her mother’s care, trapped in a world shaped by the tragedy of dementia; of betrayal and denial, Irene and Lilian play out an old story culminating in a shocking truth. An immediate, almost visceral scenario intertwined with the backstory: the history of Irene, Sam, Lilian and little Rose, told in equally exquisite detail.
This is a superbly constructed book; Judith Barrow has created a perfect balance between the horror and challenges of dementia and the reality of love. It is told with compassion, honesty that is at times hard to read, and at times a wry humour. I loved it, and in my view, it’s the author’s best book to date. Highly recommended.
Barrow paints a complex emotional story written in first person where Irene tells her story in two time-frames. One is in present 2002, depicted in a 24 hour time-frame, and the past in flashbacks about what transpired in her life and lead to that one day.
Three women under one roof – Irene, her mother Lilian, and her Nanna, and Sam, Irene’s ever faithful and compassionate boyfriend, are the central characters, as well as little sister Rose, born with Down Syndrome, who dies at the age of 8 years old, and the secrets about her death that keep Irene connected to the house they grew up in together. The burning secret Irene carries will take a monumental twist near the end of this book. Rose is an embarrassment to her rotten mother Lilian, and Irene and Nanna are the ones who look after Rose.
Rose’s death creates a bigger distance between Irene and Lilian, spurring Irene’s anticipation to finally move away from home and finish her schooling for her dream to become a teacher. Only, there are obstacles at every milestone for Irene from her demanding, needy and lacking of compassion mother.
Lilian is a complicated, moody, miserable bitch, whose husband has left her, leaving Irene to put up with Lilian’s antics on a daily basis – seemingly no matter how far Irene flees does not stop Lilian and her demands. Thank goodness for Sam. Sam knows Lilian well and knows how she gets under Irene’s skin and staunchly supports Irene’s decisions, despite them often leaving Sam in second place to Irene’s worries concerning her mother and the indelible bond that remains between Rose and Irene even after her death.
Irene is the designated carer for everyone in this book – first Rose, then her Nanna, then Sam’s sick father, then her sick father, then her sick (in more ways than one, mother) – a modern day Florence Nightingale.
Sam is the ideal boyfriend and then husband who adores Irene. He’s been through a lot with Irene and her family woes, causing delays for them to make a life together. When they finally do make their life complete, once again ‘mother’ calls in her neediness. The mother who never had the time of day for Irene makes her a lucrative offer, which once again turns into a bad deal and should have had Irene running like a dog on fire. But instead, she flees back to her mother leaving Sam disappointed and dumbfounded.
The twist at the end focuses on the painful secret Irene has carried with her since Rose’s death. A lot of drama ensues between Irene and her terrible, ungrateful, undeserving mother as Irene once again sacrifices her happiness with Sam in order to pacify her mother. Irene is a great character of strength who takes on all the family problems in her selfless good and compassionate nature, even risking losing the love of her life, but does she? You’ll have to read to find out!
I liked the structure of this book a lot - it's written in the first person, and each chapter starts with a small section in the present day (2002), with Irene, the main character, taking care of her mother, who has dementia. Then it goes back in time, starting in 1963 when she was a child, and her sister, Rose, who has Down's Syndrome, is born. I really loved the first third, which detailed Irene's love for her sister (quite beautiful) and the difficulties within the family, with her cold, brusque mother, delightful father and the grandmother she adored. I was completely absorbed. The rest of the story pivots around a shocking event that takes place at around 40%.
The book slowed down for me a little during the middle section, which was about Irene's growing up and the early part of her marriage to Sam. Not a great deal happened apart from everyday occurrences, and I found the family's lives depressingly humdrum (which is a bit rich coming from someone who writes about dystopian horrors, I know). However, it certainly picked up during the last thirty per cent, and I began to really enjoy it again. I would have liked a little more in the way of plot, but that's just personal taste; it's not a criticism - and this is not a high drama sort of book.
The strongest aspect of the latter part of the book was the initial development of the mother's dementia; I have experience of this with my late mother, and, although the circumstances were very different, it certainly struck a chord, with one particular episode bringing tears to my eyes.
My favourite characters were Irene's father and her husband, Sam, who I thought got a bit of a raw deal and put up with too much (I do hope he had more fun than he admitted to Irene, during a time when circumstances forced them apart). I can't say I liked Irene, who put her own obsession with the past before his happiness, and whose outlook often seemed rather narrow and dreary (I kept wanting to tell her to lighten up, and do something a bit crazy!), but I appreciated how deeply and lastingly she was affected by the aforementioned shocking event, and she's a thoroughly three-dimensional character.
The other star of the book is the time and place—the working class northern England of the 1960s and 70s, which was as starkly and realistically portrayed as any TV kitchen sink drama.
The ending brings a most surprising twist directly related to the events of Irene's earlier years, which filled me with regret on her behalf. If you enjoy emotional family dramas that dig deep into the psyche, you will love this book, with its vivid descriptions of familial conflict, loss and the day to day difficulties of caring for a person with dementia.
Judith Barrow has always created characters that are clearly defined and memorable. This is the case again in her latest book about family with all its complexities, particularly within the relationship of mother and daughter. What appears to be an idyllic childhood for Irene changes with the arrival of Rose, who has Down’s and the distance that her mother Lillian creates between herself and her husband and children.
As their world implodes, three generations of women find themselves under the same roof and after Rose dies, guilt and suspicion create an even bigger chasm between them all.
Irene’s childhood friend, Sam, becomes the love of her life and the buffer between Irene and her mother . He has his own family dynamics to come to terms with, and their relationship is tested with duty determining its direction. Dreams are put on hold, as commitment to both Irene’s and Sam’s parents take precedence.
The underlying mystery about Rose’s death is explored throughout the book as the two timelines of the 1970s and 2002 synchronise in vivid flashbacks. This enables the reader to understand the reasons behind the fractured relationship between the women, and also to appreciate why Irene is still driven to care for her mother as she slips into dementia. As the house becomes a prison for them both, the essence of Rose keeps them both tethered to each other despite Lillian’s mental state, and the wedge being created between Irene and Sam.
When it looks like the situation is going to become even more complex and dire, a revelation turns Irene’s life on its head. One that is brilliantly unexpected .
I have enjoyed all of Judith Barrow’s family saga novels involving the Howarth Family and this new book is every bit as absorbing and heartwarming as they were. Wonderfully written with an easy flow between the two timelines, it was not easy to put down.
I can recommend to all lovers of mysteries and stories that portray the complexities of human relationships with such expertise.
I have been a fan of Judith Barrow’s work for a long time so bought The Memory, her new release, the moment it was available. I also chose it as the book of the month for my reading group because it would ensure I read it in a timely fashion.
I have struggled to read much at this time and I was concerned how I’d manage with what I anticipated would be a difficult subject matter but I need not have worried. I found the way this was written, with short chapters broken up consistently into two time periods, was ideal. The length of chapter meant I wasn’t put off starting another one and in fact I found I read far more as I was keen to know what would come next in this compelling story.
The first part of each chapter was the story told over a day or so in 2002 and consisted of the intensely grim life that Irene was living with her mother. The second part started in 1963 and was the story of Irene’s life from when she was eight when Rose, her sister, arrived in it. Her love for Rose was absolute and moulded the rest of her life. This second storyline was also very much a love story as Irene meets a terribly patient Sam.
Barrow’s writing is, as always, superb. Her attention to detail transports you so far into the story you could be in the room with Irene and her mother, even if you’d rather not be present at times. Her characters are terrific and descriptions vivid.
This book was thoroughly discussed at my reading group (held via Zoom) and the views of all were broadly along the same lines although many wished Irene had not given up on so many of her own dreams because of the responsibility she felt towards others. But of course these were different times.
Highly recommended, this is an excellent, thoughtfully written read I’d recommend to all who enjoy realistic, well told tales of family life.
The Memory by Judith Barrow is a powerful tale of love, duty and a haunting, terrifying secret. There are two timelines. The first begins in 1963 when the protagonist, Irene, is eight years old and delighted to welcome her sister Rose into the family. Rose has Down’s Syndrome and the impact of this ripples through the family in different ways. The second timeline is Irene in 2002 and covers one day – twenty-four hours – as she cares for her mother who now has dementia. This is a wonderful read. Judith Barrow brings people to life on the page. These are real, three-dimensional characters moulded by their pasts and personalities. We grow with Irene during the longer timeline and the twists and turns of fate really matter as a consequence. The present day account is vivid and compelling. Anyone with an experience of caring for someone with dementia will be able to identify with the pain, stress and numbing fatigue that so often accompanies it. The descriptions have a freshness that brings the scenes and characters into vivid focus, without seeming forced or unreal. The storyline moves along swiftly, carrying the reader with it. This is one of those books that refuses to lie patiently to be picked up when time allows; this book catches hold of your heart and your mind and compels you to carry on. There’s love, hatred, laughter and pain and a very real sense of dread and impending tragedy. This book was a gripping read from its start - to the shock at its end.
Before commencing to read this book I was warned that it leans "heavily towards women's fiction". Now that I have read the book I understand what was meant by that. I still think that it is a mistake to categorise readers in this way. I understand the importance of categorising books by genre. That helps potential readers decide whether a book is one they would enjoy. But most readers surely read across genres: they might choose romantic fiction one week, a mystery the next week and a thriller a week later. When you describe a book as "women's fiction" you are not so much categorising the book as the reader. To the extent that this book is about a woman's life it will certainly appeal to women. In my opinion that does not rule out the possibility that it can be enjoyed by a man. What it definitely is not is a feminist account of how women's opportunities are limited by the demands of men. On the contrary, it is the refusal of other women to shoulder their responsibilities, instead pursuing their own selfish interests, that determine the course of the central character's life. The principle male characters are portrayed as fundamentally decent men whose support is invaluable to her. As the book opens we see Irene struggling to care for her mother who has dementia. We are then taken back to the day, 40 years before, when Irene's sister, Rose, was born. Rose has Down's Syndrome and is rejected by their mother, leaving Irene to take on the caring role. As Irene's life progresses, she moves from caring for Rose to caring for her grandmother, her father-in-law and, finally, her mother. The book is structured with each chapter opening with a description of what is happening over a period of two days in 2002 as an increasingly tired and frustrated Irene performs various caring functions for her mother before returning to the chronological narrative of Irene's progress from childhood, through adolescence, to an interrupted career as a teacher and marriage. Along the way there are descriptions of working class life in the 1960s, '70s and '80s that those of a certain age will recognise. If you remember Berni Inns and Babycham, or prawn cocktails and fondu sets, there are scenes which will make you smile to remember how we once thought such things were glamorous. Teachers, too, will find interest in the debates about curriculum and teaching methods that surfaced at the time and are with us still today, especially where they relate to the treatment of children with "special needs". There were times when I found the structure irritating, particularly when Irene's life story reached a day that has enormous significance for her. Not only are the details of the day dragged out across several chapters, but by repeatedly returning to 2002, the shock we know is coming - we can even make a good guess as to the nature of the shock - is delayed a little too long in my opinion. Is it fair to call it "Women's Fiction"? It is written by a woman and the central character is a woman. But it is a book that takes a critical look at the lives of women in the second half of the twentieth century. It was a time when women were told they could have it all: a career and motherhood. Like many, Irene, though she craves both, has neither. Sadly, that was, and remains, the brutal reality for many women. Should men read it? Definitely: they need to be reminded of these truths.
Masterful. Real, gritty, relatable. You won't put it down until you've finished. Guaranteed. Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 19 March 2020 What a powerful story! Compelling, unputdownable; I read it in two sittings, stopping only to sleep when I couldn’t keep my eyes open. A profound portrayal of how life’s events sweep people along, often against their will and especially if they follow their hearts. There are many layers to this book and much wisdom within its pages. The story switches from the minutia of an agonisingly slow day of exhaustion and care, to flashbacks from the carer's life leading up to this situation. Hour by painful hour, the gruelling truth about nursing an aged parent with dementia (within a family whose history is complex) is expertly revealed. Contrasting with this are all the memories, cleverly woven into the title and the theme of the book. It is in these chapters we come to see how Irene’s life played out (with faithful, loving Sam at her side) with many apparently regrettable twists, until she arrives at the point of her true destiny as time finally catches up with her. The intermingling of the time frames is seamless. The setting is a gritty town in northern England, vividly described using all the senses – so much so, it spares the reader nothing; not weather, not the early dawn in a working-class town or the noise of a schoolroom; not the smell or sight or sound of domestic claustrophobia which is so convincingly drawn. The years covered are also very easy for the reader to picture, from the crimplene home-made dresses to the loose-leaf tea brewed whether the occasion is for celebration or grief. Adding to the period detail, interspersed in the homely detail are the national events giving the reader the clues, not just to the place, but also the times in which the drama unfolds. Here is love in all its many forms, with duty, conscience, tragedy, and friendship; here is hate, spawning fear, resentment, and pain. All sides of humanity are shown but never told, in a masterful demonstration of the skill of this experienced and gifted author. Not always an easy read, but as someone who has cared for four people at the end of their lives, it resonated deeply with me on a personal level. Above all, The Memory is about life and death – all aspects of it – and ultimately, the redemptive power of love.
I have been a fan of Judith Barrow's writing for some time. I loved her Howarth family trilogy and also her collection of short stories, Secrets, so when I was asked to read this book for review, I had no hesitation in accepting an ARC.
The Memory is completely different from any of the author's other novels, but at the same time, it retains the undiluted and unadorned realism of her other books. Irene, the narrator of the story, switches between memories of the past and a long few days in 2002. In every chapter, we follow her in an hourly diary of dealing with the exhausting and sometimes awful reality of her mother's dementia. The story then reverts to the past and the progress of her childhood and life with and after the death of her beloved Down's Syndrome sister, Rose.
Throughout the book, Irene's relationship with her mother is the central theme, a relationship built on both love and hatred, and the bizarre, but poisonous bond that Rose's loss creates between them. Why this bond is so strong and why Irene cannot and will not consign her mother to a home are revealed as the story progresses.
This is a hugely compelling book, beautifully written with an attention to detail and reality that is quite astonishing. It is tragic, searingly honest and deeply touching too, and the reality of both Downs Syndrome and Dementia are treated with candour and compassion. In the end, though, it is a story of hope and very much love too, as Irene's relationships with the rest of her family prove.
The Memory is a book that will remain in my own for a very long time. I'm honoured to have been asked to review it.
A novel about the lives of carers and the power of family which manages to be both moving and gripping. Not always an easy story to read, but an important one. Had me enthralled to the last page.
This could have been a really difficult read with its focus on that emotional maelstrom that dementia brings – and it’s all considerably complicated by the way the characters’ lives have unfolded, with a single significant memory driving an ever-present hatred that underpins the love and caring. But the way this book is structured really is absolute perfection.
Each chapter starts with the present day, a tightly focused timeline, where the minutes pass so very slowly. Over a 24 hour period we follow Irene as she copes – just about – with the care of her mother: it’s in the present tense, and it’s totally relentless, claustrophobic, exhausting to experience (not “read” – it’s so much more than that). It’s unflinching, it’s painfully real – but there are, just sometimes, those moments of incongruity (I hesitate to say humour) that will be only too familiar to anyone who’s experienced the life of a carer. Emotionally, it tears at you constantly – the unremitting demands, the absence of sleep, the isolation, the despair, the sheer impossibility of it all.
Interspersed is a linear account of Irene’s life, progressing through her memories. Told in the past tense, you might find yourself in slightly more familiar territory here if you’ve read the author’s earlier books – the twists and turns that life brings, with a close focus on the individuals involved, but perhaps with a smaller and more intimate canvas.
We follow her from childhood – the age of eight – when her life is changed by the birth of sister Rose, a child with Down’s syndrome. When her mother rejects the child, young Irene – with the support of her father, and her grandmother who joins the household – takes on the care of her sister, showing her all the love denied by her mother. Rose’s life is short – and Irene’s thereafter is largely shaped by that experience of loss, her attempts to make a life of her own constantly thwarted as she responds to a repeated need to share love and care with others.
From that outline, you might just be expecting relentless misery – but although you frequently ache for Irene, that’s really not the case. There are moments of lightness and absolute joy – in her relationships, in some of her life experiences, and in the precious moments with those she loves. And just a brief mention for the overarching timeline of Irene’s life – it’s one I share, so I was perhaps particularly engaged by the references placing the story in a context I recognised, with its prevailing attitudes and social limitations.
I know I can sometimes overuse the word “stunning” – but for this book, I really can’t come up with anything more appropriate. It’s absolutely compelling, a story superbly told, and an entirely unforgettable emotional experience. Without question, this was one of the most powerful books I’ve read this year.
The Memory tells Irene’s story from her perspective, alternating between then and now. Beginning in the now, the story gives an immediate sense of Irene’s life. It’s not at all what she envisioned for herself all those years ago, as she struggles with her full time role as a carer for her mother, with all that entails when someone is incapable of doing anything for themselves.
Everything changed for Irene when her sister was born. She was eight years old. Gone was her happy childhood, the days when her mother laughed and they spent time together, enjoying each others company. Rose was born with Down’s Syndrome and from the first moment Irene loved her, as did her father and grandmother. But seemingly not her mother who rejected Rose, wanting nothing to do with her, and withdrew from the family. Irene sees a side to mother that she never knew existed and it tears their family apart.
Irene became a surrogate mother to Rose, supported by her father and grandmother, and loved her unconditionally. She and her best friend, and later soul mate, Sam, spent as much time as possible with Rose. The prejudices and feelings of the time towards children who were different angered them both, and meant they spent much of their time with Rose on their own. Irene’s life takes many turns, and throughout it all Sam is there for the good times and the bad.
Told sympathetically and with gritty realism, The Memory centres around Irene’s troubled love/hate relationship with her mother, poignant, shocking and compelling in equal measure, as the story evolves.
The chapters are short, beginning with a brief but very clear understanding of Irene’s life in the present, those sections spanning a twenty four hour period, and flashbacks chart her life as it unfolds. At one point she witnesses something that never leaves her and drives the relationship she has with her mother, as well as some of the life changing decisions she will make throughout her life. And eventually, after all the years of lies and deceit a sad truth is finally revealed.
Irene is a wonderfully portrayed character, loyal and reliable with an inner strength that makes you just want things to turn out well for her, although it’s not all doom and gloom by any means. Judith Barrow gets into the skin of her characters, totally capturing the conflicting emotions, feelings of angst, joy, love, compassion, sadness and utter despair that make up this incredible, moving and well written story.
I chose to read and review The Memory based on a copy of the book kindly supplied by the publisher.
Irene is delighted when she finds out her parents are expecting, and when they bring home a beautiful little girl she falls in love instantly. But she doesn’t understand why her Mum doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want anything to do with her…… She realises her sister is special, and later finds out that she has Down’s Syndrome. Only strengthening the love she has for, Irene has an unbreakable bond with Rose and will protect her above all else. Until she passes away at the age of 8….and Irene believes there is more to it than she is being told.
Left devastated Irene moves on with her life as best as she can with plenty of ups and downs, and eventually ends up back home caring for her Mum. Having kept a secret since the day Rose died, Irene faces up to what she feels she must do to put things right. Stressed, overwhelmed and tired, the only question is will Irene go ahead with her plans……
The Memory was so moving, it actually had me in tears at one point. Told from Irene’s viewpoint, we experience 24 hours with her as she’s at home caring for her challenging Mum who is suffering with dementia. But at the same time she takes us back through her memories of her childhood and life; when she meets her little sister, the bond they have, her death and the challenges that follow for Irene as an adult.
I was so invested in Irene and honestly felt like I was reading someone’s real life memoirs. Irene loved her sister so much and would have done anything for her. We go through the tragic loss with her and it’s heart breaking. As Irene grows she ends up sacrificing her own desires to care for others, something that constantly seems to happen through her life. When she seems to be able to move on with her life, something else crops up. The poor woman is so selfless, and goes through so much. You can’t help but empathise with her and wish you could give her a massive big hug!
I fell in love with Rose instantly. An adorable little character who’s end I was devastated by. Sam is a real gentleman although I could have given him a bit of a boot a few times! And then we have Irene’s Mum, Lil…….this woman brought out every emotion in me. I was angry with her, disgusted, sad and shocked. She says and does some terrible things, but isn’t always what she seems……And I loved Nanna……
The Memory is a truly emotive and heart wrenching novel covering sisterly bonds, family, secrets, betrayal, loss and ultimate sacrifice. I didn’t want to put it down. Highly recommended by me.
This haunting novel disturbed my sleep as I ‘clinged to the memory’ of a pivotal event in Irene’s life. As ‘the memory’ twisted and tangled in Irene’s mind, it compelled me to read more discover the truth. I stayed up until the early hours of the morning to discover the truth! This is incredible writing. I was thrown into a frenzy of emotion bewilderment and sorrow for Irene/ ‘Iwene’.
Irene says, ‘Sometimes I think I’m only getting through life on memories.’ The emotional jigsaw of memories is presented through the striking structure of the novel. The pacing and texture of various elements of the novel are some of the very best examples I have read in the genre. The movement between the past and present adds layers to Irene’s characters and the way her past experiences have impacted on her psyche. There was so much hard-hitting sadness that I yearned for good times to soothe Irene. However, she is surrounded by love and that gave her strength.
The tenderness of the relationship between Irene and Sam was beautiful and powerful. Irene explains, ‘He’s such a good man’ and shows this time and time again. But the exploration of the love between mother and daughter shocked me to the core and moved me to tears.
‘And, despite the hatred that was born from memory, still there was a sliver of pity, of love for her I cannot help.’
There is a powerful exploration of love in all its forms, and I cared deeply for Irene, Sam and Rose. Rose, Irene’s sister, has Down’s syndrome and the portrayal of this wonderful character will live with me.
‘Memory’ is brutal realism coloured with unconditional love and would make a stunning Ken Loach film.
The Memory, though fiction, reads like a memoir, chronicling the love-hate relationship between a daughter and mother. The story is told from the point of view of Irene, tracking her life from 1963 to 2002. Irene’s young sister, Rose, has Down’s Syndrome and dies at the age of eight. Irene is devastated. She knows what she saw. The secret of her sister’s death is never once discussed between Irene and her mother, though the rift it creates is ten miles wide.
Though the focus of the book is the arc of Irene’s life, each chapter starts with a glimpse into two days in 2002 when she is caring for her mother who suffers from dementia. Lily is an extremely difficult patient. These glimpses are frequently just a paragraph long, minutes apart, and they clearly convey Irene’s exhaustion. They serve as a backdrop for the longer story that leads up to those final days and moments.
The story is a long one, full of details that create rich well-rounded characters and a sense of time and place. By the end, I knew Irene well, and as a caregiver myself, I found her story moving and authentic. The pace is moderate overall and well suited to the narrative, though there are some tangential details in places that slow it down. Short chapters help keep it moving, and the unspoken secret creates the tension that pulled me through to the end, even though I guessed the truth early on. A beautifully written and edited book, perfect for readers of memoirs, women’s lit, and family dramas.
Hauntingly poignant, The Memory by Judith Barrow had me hooked from the beginning. Relationships between mothers and daughters aren’t always the picture-perfect images we see on social media. In fact, sometimes they are anything but. The relationship between main character Irene and her mother evolves around the birth of baby sister Rose, who was born with Down’s Syndrome during a time when children with handicaps or special needs were treated with shame by society
Barrow’s beautifully written narrative perfectly captured the tensions that sometimes we inherit from one generation to the next between mothers and daughters, and our ability to hold on to something we love at any cost.
I loved Irene as a character because although at times heartwrenching, she never gave up on the people that needed her. Her bond with her little sister, Rose, her gran Nanna, her father Derek, and the love of her life, Sam, painted an honest portrait over time of the joys and utter despairs of being a carer for nearly everyone else. I so wanted for her to finally have some peace in the end.
A must-read for any mother and daughter as we navigate this challenging thing called sisterhood. Highly recommended.
At the age of 8 something wonderful happens to Irene. Her beloved sister Rose is born. Irene adores her, but her mother Lilian can’t cope, because Rose is a Down’s Syndrome child. A happy family childhood turns a dark corner, made sinister when Irene witnesses something that will haunt her for the rest of her life and poison her relationship with her mother beyond repair. Years later she is trapped, caring for Lilian as dementia wrecks both lives. The book is threaded with two time-lines. One recounts Irene’s history – her love for Rose, for her Nanna, for her stoically supportive Sam, as she struggles to find a purpose and a home. The other is the final 24 hours, delivered in bite-sized gasps, as Irene succumbs to exhaustion and defeat, with only Rose’s ghostly whispers to keep her going. Agony and ecstasy is portrayed on a canvas rich with minute details that bring it vividly to life. The Memory is both powerful and moving, exquisitely penetrating. I am drawn in, empathising so intensely with Irene that I feel every twinge of her frustration, resentment, utter weariness and abiding love.
The Memory is a must-read for lovers of family saga. It features strong, engaging characters, including Rose, a child who has Down Syndrome. It is difficult to portray a marginalized character without patronizing but Judith Barrow does it perfectly. I fell in love with Rose from the moment of her birth. At times, The Memory is a heart-rending read. There were several occasions when raw reality struck a personal chord. Having said that, there were also humorous moments down memory lane which I connected with. The author’s descriptive skills vividly bring to life both setting and character, immersing the reader into the novel with ease. The ending was a surprise too. Thoroughly enjoyable! P.S. If I end up being reincarnated, please can I marry Sam? What an angel!
Irene tells her story in dual time. Now in 2002 she has reached the end of her tether. Exhausted with taking care of her mother who suffers from dementia and incontinence and only sleeps fitfully, she relives a memory that her mother never mentions and she feels she must do something for her sister Rose, who died so many years before. Irene had been offered the opportunity of a rewarding career as a teacher, as well as the love of Sam whom she had known all her life, but she has given up her happiness for the sake of her devotion to those she loves. First, she took care of Rose, who had Down’s syndrome, then when her Nanna became gravely ill, she nursed her. When faithful Sam gave her love and companionship she ended up providing care for his sick father and finally she was drawn back to her wayward mother, feeling compelled to live in the house which still seems to be haunted by Rose. Seeing events through Irene’s eyes doesn’t prevent the reader from realising how badly she treats Sam. His patience is almost unbelievable until he takes time out, working away from home. When their long-awaited child fails to come, even the kindness of friends who give them a temporary home does not prevent Irene trapping herself with the mother she once loved before Rose was born. This 20th century story addresses many problems of women in a time of great change. The urge to be a mother, carer and homemaker contrasts with the ambition to achieve and to make a difference. Society’s approval and understanding easily turns to disapproval and misunderstanding. At times tremendously sad, the novel also shows social features and friendship in a world before mobile phones, the internet and Netflix. In a tale full of “What ifs” it is good to see Irene finally moving forward in the new century.
“What gets us into trouble is not what we don’t know. It’s what we know for sure that just ain’t so.”—attrib. Mark Twain
I have nine brothers and sisters who must have grown up in nine other families because our memories just don’t match up. Each of us sees our past through the filter of personal experience, making us the unreliable narrators of our own memories. Yet somehow, it’s those memories that shaped the people we are today.
In Judith Barrow’s The Memory, it’s the memory of one moment in time that shapes Irene’s family and defines her life. In a brilliant structure, readers are swept along dual timelines as we try to understand or even identify that moment. First we’re introduced to an adult Irene. It’s 2002 and she’s taking care of her dying mother. In the midst of her exhaustion and resentment, Irene wonders if her mother is also experiencing that pivotal memory, “The one that makes hate battle with pity and reluctant love.”
But it’s also 1963, the moment eight-year-old Irene’s happy childhood changes forever when her baby sister Rose is born with Down’s Syndrome. Even as her parents’ marriage crumbles, Irene’s world is transformed. “That was the first time I understood you could fall in love with a stranger, even though that stranger is a baby who can’t yet talk. And that you could hate somebody even though you were supposed to love them.”
As the two timelines converge, the impact of little Rose’s life and death continues to shape every aspect of big sister Irene’s life. With her parents’ relationship becoming increasingly dysfunctional, Irene tries to wrap a cocoon of fierce love and devotion around her beloved little sister. She realizes her life isn’t like other girls, but with her grandmother’s support, she struggles on. One of her earliest friends, Sam, becomes her rock and then her husband.
But despite Irene’s love for Rose, her grandmother, and Sam, she can’t prevent tragedy from striking. Her parents’ marriage ends, effectively separating Irene from her weak but loved father, while sending her mother into a downward spiral of resentment. Her only ally at home, her grandmother, becomes ill. Irene’s dreams of a teaching career and motherhood are sacrificed to the needs of her family.
With the death of Rose, Irene and her mother are trapped an endless cycle of love and resentment shaped by one memory. But it’s a child’s memory of an event, and even Irene isn’t sure exactly what it means. Unable to leave the childhood home that’s her only connection to Rose, she turns to the ghost of her little sister for answers.
The Memory is quite possibly Judith Barrow’s masterpiece. The dual timeline structure is ideally suited to bring us to that critical moment in the past. What exactly did Irene see? She’s an unreliable narrator, a child trying to understand a single memory that redefines her life in one timeline, while in the other timeline she’s a woman who has lost everything she ever loved except for the memory of the sister who haunts her.
The writing is spare and elegant, with just enough detail to create a picture of Irene’s world. Told in the first person, we see Irene as she grows from a bewildered child determined to care for her ‘special’ little sister to a woman who sacrifices her own hopes and dreams to care for her family. Those who’ve been caretakers to parents suffering from alzheimer’s and dementia will also recognize the sheer exhaustion and thankless effort demanded.
But the other thing I enjoyed in what could have been a desperately dark tale was that Irene knew love along the way. She remembered her childhood days with loving parents, she cherished the love of her grandmother, and she accepted the bedrock certainty of her husband Sam’s love. Most of all, she had the memory of loving little Rose.
As the two timelines converge, all of those loves combine in a single moment of realization that finally explains and then redeems the memory haunting Irene’s life. As a reader, when a character becomes as completely real to me as Irene does, I often find myself wondering what happened next for her. But Irene’s story is so perfectly and elegantly resolved that I know without a shade of doubt what her future holds.
The Memory is not a comfortable or easy read. But if you’re looking for a beautifully written, character-driven story with a dark base but superb resolution, it just might be the perfect choice.
Although much of the story being told over my lifetime so it was familiar but with much of the content very much of the time it is set in i.e. the seventies and eighties, in some respects it could be considered historical fiction. Those details aside this is a novel firmly set around family and those that live within and without them.
Irene is eight years old when her younger sister Rose is born. Rose has Down Syndrome and was born after the time when these 'special' children were put out of sight, but that doesn't mean that the families don't need to come to terms with having a child whose life won't be as that they'd imagined. Rose's mother struggled but Irene adored her younger sister.
The story of Rose's life is interspersed with the current day story set in 2002 of Irene's mother's struggle with dementia and the realities are so well recorded that it feels as if the author has first hand experience.
This is a story that tugged at my heart-strings although I wanted to shake Irene for her inability to see the bigger picture but just as in real life, you can't agree with everyone's choices.
I have a feeling that this is a book that will linger....
An really enjoyable read, exploring dark family secrets and the resulting distorted, disfunctional relationships. Loved the "stacatto", dual timeline, which added real depth to the emotional turmoil that is so central to the storyline. Will certainly be looking out for this author's next book
Judith Barrow’s The Memory is a character-driven novel that explores how love, compassion, guilt, disappointment, and resentment shape the lives of three generations in one family: a grandmother (referred to as Nanna), her daughter Lilian, and Lilian’s daughters Irene and Rose.
The novel is narrated by Irene in dual timelines. The first is one twenty-four-hour period in present time of 2002 as a middle-aged Irene struggles to care for her bedridden and incontinent mother with dementia. The second timeline traces Irene’s relationships with the women in her family, her father, and her husband, from 1972-2000.
The narrative device of two parallel timelines works well to establish and maintain story tension as Irene becomes more and more exhausted over the course of those twenty-four hours in 2002. The syntax in those sections becomes fragmented and barely coherent as the day wears on, making for compelling reading. Barrow doesn’t spare the details of caring for a person with urinary and fecal incontinence, and I could feel Irene’s stress and exhaustion in her care-giving role.
Barrow also made a good choice to tell the 2002 timeline in present tense and the earlier timeline in past tense. Present tense intensifies the sense of immediacy and urgency for Irene to escape the trap she’s in, while past tense helps keep the reader grounded in place and time.
The sections for each timeline are fairly short, to keep their interrelatedness foremost in the reader’s mind, while raising new questions about that interrelatedness, as well as the reliability of Irene’s memory.
Each past section reveals more about Lilian’s character before she became ill, beginning with her rejection of Rose, who was born with Down Syndrome. I’ll admit to being shocked at Lilian’s immediate rejection of newborn Rose. That said, it’s important to keep in mind that Rose was born in 1963, when attitudes toward people with developmental disabilities were just beginning to change.
The character of Rose is portrayed with great sensitivity–she is a sweet and loving little girl–without shying away from the challenges that a developmentally disabled child can present to her care-givers. Irene meets these challenges admirably. The fact that young Irene is able to help Rose develop and thrive to the best of Rose’s limited abilities is remarkable to watch.
We know from the book description that Rose dies at some point, but we don’t know the cause or circumstances of her death, which further contributes to the narrative tension. When the apparent cause and manner of Rose’s death are revealed about a third of the way through the book, Irene’s responsibility of care-giving for Lilian becomes even more fraught with conflicting emotions. Lilian is a flawed human being who is hard to love, but Irene does remember periods of love and enjoyment with her mother, which further complicates their current relationship.
Irene is a sympathetic character in both timelines, as she possesses a loving and accepting nature. However, she becomes less sympathetic as the book progresses because she appears willing to sacrifice her loving and supportive husband to the memory of her long-dead sister and her belief that Rose’s spirit still lives in the family home.
I found The Memory a thought-provoking read that has stayed with me since finishing the book. Irene’s adult life has been a series of raised hopes, followed by crushing disappointments, some of which she may have brought on herself. Ultimately, The Memory raises the question of how far we should go to sacrifice ourselves–our hopes, goals, and personal well-being for a loved one–and do we sacrifice the happiness and well-being of one family member for another?
I'm not sure if any of this excellent book I read at my caravan during my Easter break is autobiographical (perhaps Ms Barrow can enlighten us?)? My mother-in-law's fifth child was born in 1960 with Down' s Syndrome, just as Irene's sister Rose was in the book. Irene and Rose's mother Lil rejects Rose, but Irene forms a close bond with her sister and looks after her.
In 1960 my mother-in-law was told to 'stop feeding the baby' (i.e leave her to die). Mother-in-law was the opposite of Lil, and fed Susan every half an hour and looked after her diligently for 46 years until Susan died of heart disease. However, I was witness to the exhaustion mother-in-law faced at not only caring for Susan, but also caring for her own ageing mother, then later in life her husband (who had dementia) and her sixth child - an adopted son with various special needs. I think only those who are carers themselves or who have worked as a carer would have this amount of gritty knowledge.
Irene and her mother do not get on, mainly because of Lil's resentment of Rose, but when Rose dies their relationship deteriorates even further. Eventually when Lil has dementia, Irene finds herself having to care for Lil or lose her own home. The saving grace is Irene's husband Sam, whom she knew from childhood, and he helps Irene in her caring duties, first for Rose and later on for Lil. There is also Irene's grandmother (Nanna) who gives young Irene the support she needs when her narcissistic mother is out and about doing her own thing, and Irene's father, who is divorced from Lil but helps out when he can.
This book flips between past and present, and uses past and present tenses. There is also a touch of the paranormal at times, as Irene is certain that Rose's spirit lives on. Irene is the thread that holds the whole family together, but tension builds as there is only so much stress one carer can take in a single day, especially when she hasn't had enough sleep and really isn't sure that she actually loves her mother for what she did to Rose all those years ago.
An excellent 5 star read for fans of women's fiction/family relationship sagas.
In an effort to get out of my comfort zone of vicious crime and dystoptian chaos I have read The Memory by Judith Barrow. To my shame it has been sat on my TBR for too long. It is published by Honno, a Welsh womens publishing house. Isn't that a great concept. Good for Welsh women authors and good for readers everywhere.
Every chapter has two sections. The first takes place during the course of one day, where we follow Irene caring for her dementia suffering, incontinent mother. Irene does this with a mixture of love and resentment, all whilst being physically and emotionally exhausted.
The second part of each chapter deals with the story of Irene's life and how she came to be where she is now. It also tells the tale of her Downs syndrome sister Rose and the deadly secret that Irene and her mother silently share, that comes out into the light towards the end.
Very relevant in today's climate of unaffordable housing, super expensive care homes, crumbling NHS. Society in general may be forced to going back to a time where you lived at home with your parents and when the time comes you give them end of life care.
This genre is very different for me. I think it's fair to say its target audience is female. It hammers on the emotional heartstrings. It effects one more than your bog standard crime thriller. I had at least three emo speed wobbles leading to occular seepage. In short if you want a good old sob this is the book for you.
The author definitely has a gift for sweet, melancholy, nostalgia. Its painful and warming at the same time, like a deep muscle back massage, picking a scab or sticking a thumb into a day old bruise. A glorious ache. Heartbreaking at times uplifting at others, Irene's life is grim intertwined with a small strand of love and happiness, probably like most people's. It's a tale of duty, of doing the right thing even if it is for the wrong person and even if it costs you your happiness. Think Remains of the Day but with mother and daughter rather than master and butler.
The Memory is a brutal, honest, heartbreaking story. It is a story that lives on long after you've finished reading it. Touching on dementia and down syndrome the author weaves a magic web of true understanding and heartfelt emotions.
When Rose is born, Irene's world changes. Her mother wants nothing to do with Rose and she is brutal in her lack of motherly love as she is with a life she has settled for. Irene loves her sister, Rose, and with her dad's and nana's help, they bring Rose up, for Rose is a special child.
The story flips between the past and present. In the present, Irene is her mother's carer. Looking after a parent with dementia isn't easy, and the storytelling here is brutal, for anyone who has looked after a loved one with dementia, the behaviour of Irene's mother is very real. I like that the author doesn't shy away from the brutality that is dementia. The storytelling here is vividly real and I have the utmost respect that the author was as candid here with each character's struggle as she was with Irene's love for Rose and her family, as well as her anger and resentment towards her mother.
Irene's strength, sense of responsibility, family, and love for Sam, makes The Memory a beautiful read. Yes, the story deals with subject matters that some will find difficult, but in doing so it creates a story that will live on inside you.
Judith Barrow is a wonderful author who breathes life into her characters and tells a story with open honesty.
A great poignant and moving story! As a mother of a child with Down syndrome, I was attracted by this book as it depicts the life of a little girl, Rose, born with trisomy 21 in 1963. I was interested in what impact her birth had over her family, her relationship with her sister, her parents and grandparents. I wanted to know about educational opportunities of the time and her place in society at large. That was very informative. However, the book has much more to offer. Told in the first person by Rose's sister Irene, and in two timelines, the story is about a rainbow of emotions acutely felt by the reader as well! Irene is tied to her family by strong bonds of love and duty. Her unselfishness in forgetting herself to remain faithful to the value of Family is remarkable and makes this book very special.
I have just read the final pages of 'The Memory' through my tears - what a very moving novel! It's an extremely powerful and gripping family drama that deals with difficult questions around providing care for loved ones. I adored the characters of Irene and Rose - they were so well portrayed - and their love for each other as sisters was incredibly touching. In fact, all the characters in this novel are brilliantly portrayed, making the relationships between Irene and her mother, grandmother and partner (everyone should have someone like Sam in their life!) totally relatable. With flashbacks to the 1960s leading up to 2002, 'The Memory' has a more contemporary setting than other Judith Barrow novels I've read, but just like her historical fiction, it's beautifully written, completely absorbing and a very emotional read. I thoroughly recommend it.
The Memory is a story that will stay in your memory long after you’ve finished reading it. The authentic voice is something that makes this so special. The frustrations of dealing with someone who has dementia are so real but the love that is the foundation of these relationships triumphs over everything else.
I cannot recommend this book highly enough. As someone who has witnessed dementia first-hand this story really caught my emotions. The inclusion of Rosie, a Down’s syndrome child, adds extra poignancy to the tale.
The characters are so real and the emotions so strong it should come with a warning to have your box of tissues ready. The ending is perfect, uplifting and full of hope and joy.
If you enjoy superb writing that pulls at the heartstrings you will love The Memory.