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** spoiler alert ** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on the sexual exploitation of a minor, domestic sexual violence, incest, the death of a minor, the rape of a minor, graphic violence, the death of an animal, suicidal ideation, terminal illness, the consequences of war, & others.

What are the consequences of a lost thought? Can the brain call to mind the concept it was hoping to think or are the parameters of such a practice lost to the grey matter, swampy in its quicksand—slurping memories like Artax from the 1984 adaptation of “The NeverEnding Story�? What changes when we lose something that felt innate? Does the body harvest a memory in the muscle in the hopes of reproducing a series that plays like plastic pieces on a Monopoly board? Who are we as individuals when we have no concept of ourselves? What role do we play in the filmography of the species; one tethered by bloodshed redder than the rose’s thorn that slit the wrists of the gardener.

Memory is a complicated subject because we rely so heavily on its keeper to reveal to us the secrets of its making. People lose the ability to recognize themselves in mirrors & yet request their reflections to hold the agility of exposure—flashcard truths & debonair explanations of themselves. Perhaps, it is ironic to think ourselves of such great intelligence that we might look inward & find what we cannot name & understand it. Within this book, Renner sought to pose many introspective questions to both himself & to whomsoever chose the story as material to read. To his own detriment, he included himself in the plausibility of the unknown whilst attempting to guide the reader through a series of which only he knew as lies.

In this book's passages, I found myself drifting from casual annoyance to delicately luscious enjoyment. Pondering in a teeter-totter motion how I might review this book when all was finished & I came to the end of the make-believe world that so resembles my own. Ultimately, I remain in a catatonic stance. It is difficult to know where to begin & even more troublesome to attempt to explain how emaciating I found all of this to be. All the while, I wondered why everything happened the way that it did for, certainly, nothing in life is as difficult as global peace—that is simply not the world we are part of. Yet, here we have the Great Forgetting, a promise to forget everything of terror that the human species ever advocated, to move into life with a fresh set of eyes & a slate so clean, one might call upon a smoothness of brain as the only route to arrive at such sentiments.

To begin, we explore the movement that set forth the implausibility of forced forgetfulness; the machine. This book is complicated to review because it ultimately studies revisionist history. It is of no surprise or shock to anyone that the history that we know to be true is only so because of the people who declared it. In a combined statement that has seeped itself into the minds of those who both, understand it & acknowledge its neutrality of truth; Robespierre’s sorrowful parables fly like magnolias in the wind. As Churchill stood in the House of Commons & restated a similar sentiment we see the trajectory of everything this book seeks to escape; the cycle.

In the American world of this story, the Second World War was the cataclysm that sent humanity over the edge. Why was it not a war prior or the millions of battles fought on home soil? Why was it not the terrible acts of brutality & violence that saw such a war take place? Perhaps because the greatest villain was not the American people themselves but, a foreign entity. This I cannot state with any certainty but it is one that, ironically or not, is quite heavy-handed in its base in reality. Many people might recall the adage “stranger danger� that was initiated in the United States in the 1960s as a means of reminding children that anyone they did not know was a person unsafe to them.

Unfortunately, for all those who were drowned in the untruths of such a stance, the reality revealed itself to be much more morose & detrimental. The home court places the antagonists, the villains, the evils, in the centre field & cheers for them like brothers in arms. Welcoming the perception that the people to whom we are closest cannot be the evils we see out in the world because that would make the world a very unsafe place, indeed. Just as the series of events within this story poses the same premise—that the destruction of safety, amicability, unity, & peace was brought on by the leading hands of a stranger—so too does the story cycle through the demerit of truth. The characters who endeavoured to enforce a mass forgetting did admit to participating in the evils that were taking place, though it seems, reluctantly.

Perhaps, I am too gorged by the habitual tenderness that we slash like veins in the forearm but, so much of this story was difficult to stomach. Whether that was intentional or not, it seems that a greater portion of this narrative simply rehashed hard-done beliefs by people who do not venture any further than their own backyard. As wonderful as it was to see Indigenous peoples play a crucial role in the mass migration that saw them venture to another world to remain in peace, these characters were nothing but a reflected means of tossing the old to welcome the new—much as they experienced in real life. Might I reflect upon this instance as one that plays the Stradivarius to a crowd of tone-deaf onlookers as something of a great joke?

I would like to think that Renner knew better than to simply have ‘Native Americans� tossed here & there within the book to act as cushions to the terrors but, I suppose he presented this aspect much as it is present within my world; as a truth revealed in its consistency but rather ignored in it’s lack of appeal to the masses. In that same breath, it was interesting to read a revisionist account of what might have happened had the Treaties been respected. These tribes of people were granted the opportunity to move along so that the transporters of a new age might act on a scale that saw them revolutionize their own perspectives. Did these actors see fit to change what had certainly been a terribly brutal intertwining relationship because they were tired of the violence or because they could not be bothered any longer?

This leads me to my next point, who decides? When I referenced Robespierre & Churchill it was not in vain. These men vocalized a truth that is often viewed as too honest, too truthful, too much a neon light over a murky swamp. Victory is known by those who title the fight. Seldom is the truth a one-way street un-walked by prior feet, muddied by the shore whence they drowned the lesser man. If one were to hope that every world leader might come together, even be in the same room, one is wandering in a dream-like state. What would have realistically led so many world leaders to the conclusion that the violence was too much?

Whose history are we meant to be referencing when posed with the possibility of a Great Forgetting? Are the American people the deciders? Are we to accept that whatever they say goes; when too much has become too much for them, then, we are at an impasse? What about the people who had been victims in States uncharacteristically terrorized by the same actions that the Americans sought to evade from their reputation? Might this question have been posed when the alleged world leaders gathered to talk? I cannot believe that every single Chancellor, Prime Minister, Chief, & Chairman, came together to sit at a round table like King Arthur & decide that what had taken place was enough.

I say this because we see today what happens when we believe that enough has been enough, that war need not be fought, & that violence should die like the carcasses of the brutalized. It happens again & it will keep happening. Who decided that November 11 was a day of remembrance & date which would forever highlight the end of wars? Certainly not those who came for a round two; those who were axed at the heels for their differences & faulted for being the losers. I am not here to necessarily take sides in the great expanse of human history but it is simply impractical to imagine a world without nuance.

The idea of a worldwide forgetting of history so that it might be re-written with the possibility of altering human fate is, in & of itself, a complex experiment to ponder & one that requires a larger word count than I am permitted. I am not altogether convinced that a mass understanding might be underway should the topic be broached & therefore, I shall leave off here.

I truly enjoyed this story, very much, up until Renner showed his hand & I became annoyed at the crassly corny nature of the plot. Firstly, had this remained a simple play on probability, I would have adored this story to the fullest. Unfortunately, it seems that the author defaulted on his own doubts when leading the reader through catacombs. Why did this story necessitate a love triangle that brought nothing but a cob of stupidity to the conclusion of the story? There was nothing redeeming about Samantha’s character but she was seemingly presented as a nucleus to the whole team.

Much of what transpired vis a vis the cast of primary characters was to the detriment of the narrative at play. I do not think that any of the characters were of high enough mental intellect to fathom the Goliath of a problem they were seeking to resolve. To whom are we to reference when deciding what is right & what is wrong in the world? The group led by Jack Felter never wondered what their presence might bring the group of inhabitants of the island—they did not care to wonder. Never is there a moment when the characters pose resistance or present themselves as formidable adversaries—everything is too easy.

Their decisions are juvenile & defecate on the complexity of what a more cursive reader might be able to knight in their minds. I found it brilliantly annoying to watch Jack follow suit as those men who decided that the Great Forgetting was worthwhile. This was, most probably, intentional. I would like to grant Renner the benefit of the doubt & believe that the characters were not ill-equipped because he could not write them into dimensional Spartans but because the majority of human beings are coins in the Trevi Fountain.

I would have wanted less casual promiscuity in the relationship between Tony, Sam, & Jack & more in terms of their depth as individuals. Why was Tony self-serving? Why was Jack not considered self-serving when every action he took was for his own personal goal—his own idea of high morality? Why was Sam regarded as a chairman of the fragility of mankind & not as a vapid person who sought the validation of skin? Who is Nils? What made him the middle piece in a landscape puzzle that fit everything seamlessly? I didn’t know any of these people well enough to care about them & yet, it was them I was meant to follow through adventure & turmoil.

The final scenes of this book saw me almost abandon my reading. I cannot find the terminology in my vocabulary to express how utterly ridiculous these scenes were. I found myself further intrigued by Scopes & could not have cared less about the entire terrorist attacks that the gang convinced themselves were the only way they would see their goals achieved. Again, maybe the point was to see Jack presented with two instances in which a large number of people would die; it was his decision that killed them. In the first instance when Scopes explained that the habitual cycle of human behaviour would see millions perish Jack was appalled. Yet, he chose an action that had zero guarantees of keeping anyone safe. He willingly drove an aeroplane into buildings he knew had thousands of people inside.

When all is said & done, there were too many aspects of this book I did not think worked seamlessly into the narrative. Did Mark need to be a devious & perpetual predator against children? What conversation would have taken place between Jean & Sam after she learnt that Jean was having relations with her sexually predatory brother? Tony’s disappearance is a cinch in a long line of grievances that pose no obstacles. Samantha removing money from the accounts as though no one would know it was her was laughable—this is not, the Dark Ages, ever so much as the Great Forgetting would like them to think that it was.

Had the novel followed suit with something along the veins of “The Lake House� (2006) I think that Renner might have had a true masterpiece on his hands. The story offers the reader enough information to recognize that everything they are being told is wrong & most probably is existing in the same instance as a truth; seven impossibilities like wonders, all too superb to believe. Instead, we have a question that is posed & an answer within the mind of the reader, should they seek to find it. What happens to a memory when it is lost? Does a forgotten thought, feeling, smell, experience, sound, or action ever disappear; can we really forget who we are?