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From the award-winning author of Our Endless Numbered Days, Swimming Lessons, Bitter Orange, and Unsettled Ground comes a beautiful and searing novel of memory, love, survival—and octopuses.
In the face of a pandemic, an unprepared world scrambles to escape the mysterious disease causing sensory damage, nerve loss, and, in most cases, death. Neffy, a disgraced and desperately indebted twenty-seven-year-old marine biologist, registers for an experimental vaccine trial in London—perhaps humanity's last hope for a cure. Though isolated from the chaos outside, she and the other volunteers—Rachel, Leon, Yahiko, and Piper—cannot hide from the mistakes that led them there.
As London descends into chaos outside the hospital windows, Neffy befriends Leon, who before the pandemic had been working on a controversial technology that allows users to revisit their memories. She withdraws into projections of her past—a childhood bisected by divorce, a recent love affair, her obsessive research with octopuses, and the one mistake that ended her career. The lines between past, present, and future begin to blur, and Neffy is left with defining questions: Who can she trust? Why can't she forgive herself? How should she live, if she survives?
Claire Fuller's The Memory of Animals is an ambitious, deeply imagined work of survival and suspense, grief and hope, consequences and connectedness that asks what truly defines us—and to what lengths we will go to rescue ourselves and those we love.
DEAREST H,
Is it possible to fall in love at twelve? With an octopus? I met him in the Ionian Sea when I was snorkelling off the beach where my father had his hotel. I like to think he loved me back, as you maybe did too. I wonder often where you are and how you're doing. Are you dead or alive? Was it wrong, what I did? And is it better to live a small life, contained and enclosed where everything is provided and the unexpected rarely happens? A safe life. Or one where you swim out into the unknown and risk everything. I chose for you since the choice wasn't yours to make. But, I wanted to write to apologize to ask your forgiveness to explain myself.
NEFFY
Day
Zero
Minus
Two
A nurse collects me from the ground-floor lobby and takes me and my wheeled suitcase up in the lift. I smell the familiar odours of disinfectant and industrial cleaner, mixed with a kind of hopeful hopelessness. The nurse, whose head is level with my chest, is wearing the ubiquitous hospital top and loose trousers; the same as the nurses wore in the clinic in the hills above Big Sur and in the hospital in Athens. She's also got on a medical face mask like me but, above her brown eyes, neatly drawn eyebrows arch. She asks whether I had a good journey even though she must know they sent a car and that I sat in the back with a plastic screen between me and the driver. What she doesn't know is that I was smarting from the argument with Justin while the phone in my pocket vibrated with messages from him and Mum—apologies at first, rising to warnings and then angry admonishments to turn back now. Part of me worried I'd made another bad decision but the more my phone buzzed the more determined I became. I tried to calm myself by watching the empty streets of central London go by and counting the number of pedestrians we passed. When the car pulled up outside the unit, I was up to thirty-three.
The nurse has an accent; Thai, I guess. The lift stops on the second floor, the top floor. She tells me sixteen other volunteers will be arriving, and that I'm the first. "Volunteers" is the word she uses although we are being paid. That, for me, is the point.
"We'll get you settled in," the nurse says. "No need to be nervous."
"I'm fine," I say, although I'm not sure I am.
The lift doors open to a windowless reception with a long desk behind which sits a young woman in a white uniform. VACCINE BIOPHARM is displayed in large letters on the wall, with YOUR DREAMS, OUR REALITY beneath. An extravagant flower arrangement is at one end of the desk, a dozen tall stalks with orange flowers in a glass vase, and beside the lift there is some soft seating and a low table with glossy magazines fanned across it. The place looks like an advertising company from some American television series.
"Good afternoon," the receptionist says from behind her mask.
"This is Nefeli," the nurse says.
"Hello, Nefeli." The receptionist speaks like a children's TV presenter, too gleeful.
"It's Neffy," I say. "Hello."
The receptionist's nails click on her keyboard as she checks me in.
"Room one?" the nurse asks.
"Room one," the receptionist says as though this is the best room.
The nurse leads me to a wide corridor of closed doors and recessed lighting, a nurses' station, hand sanitation units at intervals along the wall, and glove dispensers. Our shoes squeak on the vinyl flooring, which is patterned with a sweep of a different colour as though to guide our way. My first name is already on the whiteboard attached to the door of room one.
"I'll change it to Neffy," the nurse says as she swings the door open and lets me go in first, like an estate agent showing me around. One of those tricks to make sure I'm impressed.
I'm relieved to see a picture window the full length of the far wall beyond the bed. Three weeks isn't so long if I can see more than four walls. I can do this. Outside is a view of roofs across to the east, and opposite, an old red-brick building which ...
Excerpted from The Memory of Animals by Claire Fuller. Copyright © 2023 by Claire Fuller. Excerpted by permission of Tin House Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Set almost entirely in a secure hospital unit in near-future London, The Memory of Animals follows Neffy, a former marine biologist in her 20s, and four fellow volunteers of an experimental vaccine trial. The world has been ravaged by a virus that causes swelling of vital organs. Just as the attempt to find a vaccine begins, a new, far deadlier variant that also targets the brain begins to spread like wildfire. As the streets descend into chaos and the medical staff die or flee, Neffy and the others must find a way to survive within the relative safety of the unit, all while juggling their grief for those left behind in the outside world, tensions within the group, a dwindling food supply and the ever-pressing reality that they may be the last remnants of humanity.
Though the novel very much stands on its own merits, parallels with the Covid pandemic are impossible to ignore. Mention of lockdowns, self-isolation and vaccine trials make the narrative feel just familiar enough for the more exaggerated story elements to seem frighteningly plausible. In this regard, it was also a clever choice by author Claire Fuller to keep the scope of the novel relatively small. Though her characters' situation is extreme and this heightens the drama, their confinement to a single location means the sense of monotony, loneliness, claustrophobia and fear of the outside ring true with many of our own experiences of living through the worst stages of a pandemic.
Around a third of the way into the novel, another important plot point comes into play. Prior to the outbreak, Leon, one of Effy's fellow survivors, was part of a team working on controversial technology that allows users to revisit memories. While this is a solid and intriguing concept, it can seem somewhat disjointed from the rest of the story at first, feeling like a device introduced to facilitate flashbacks into Effy's past, and the concept could have been given more room to breathe (the reader is never given any details as to how the technology actually operates, for example). But as things progress, the different threads of the plot become more entwined, allowing Fuller to explore the fine balance between turning to the past for comfort, accepting the reality of the present and holding onto hope for a better future.
There is another recurring thread that could easily have become a gimmick, but thanks to Fuller's deft hand, it serves instead to enhance the book's core themes. Neffy is a disgraced marine biologist who previously worked with octopuses, struggling to reconcile her fascination for the creatures with her guilt over keeping them in captivity. Through snippets of letters she writes while in the unit, we learn about what led to her dismissal, and Fuller introduces further commentary on notions of confinement, freedom, choice and guilt; all of which her characters continue to wrestle with throughout their self-imposed confinement.
Though it would be easy to consider this simply another in a long list of Covid-19 inspired fiction, The Memory of Animals stands out due to its firm focus on character. The bodily horrors of the virus are present, but they are subtly and sensitively handled, never detracting from the very personal and emotional toll of trying to survive a global pandemic.
Reviewed by Callum McLaughlin
Rated 
of 5
by Elfreda Bertha
A Captivating Journey Through the Mindscapes of Creatures
Claire Fuller's "The Memory of Animals" takes readers on an enchanting literary voyage, delving deep into the intricate tapestries of animal cognition and memory. With a lyrical prose that weaves together scientific insights and vivid storytelling, Fuller masterfully guides us through a world where memory transcends species and connects us to the intricate threads of the natural world.
The narrative unfolds through the eyes of its protagonist, Dr. Evelyn Foster, a brilliant cognitive ethologist whose life's work centers on unraveling the mysteries of animal memory. As she immerses herself in the study of creatures ranging from elephants to songbirds, we are invited to witness the delicate interplay between human intellect and the enigmatic world of animal minds.
One of the book's standout strengths is Fuller's ability to seamlessly blend scientific rigor with literary finesse. She navigates the complexities of cognitive research with an adept hand, offering readers an accessible yet thought-provoking exploration of how animals store and recall information. The author's dedication to research shines through, providing a solid foundation for the narrative's imaginative flights.
Through evocative prose, Fuller crafts a series of interconnected tales that highlight the diverse ways in which animals use memory to navigate their lives. From the poignant recollections of an aging elephant to the intricate memory-based behaviors of marine creatures, each story serves as a mosaic piece contributing to a larger understanding of the role memory plays in the animal kingdom.
Beyond the scientific inquiry, "The Memory of Animals" also delves into the emotional landscapes of both animals and humans. The novel deftly explores the connections between memory, identity, and the passage of time. It reflects upon how memory shapes our perceptions of the world and how the fading or persistence of memory influences our relationships, sense of self, and the legacies we leave behind.
Furthermore, Fuller's prose resonates with an exquisite sensitivity to the natural world. Her descriptions of animal behaviors and habitats are vivid and immersive, transporting readers to lush forests, sweeping savannas, and tranquil ocean depths. Through her words, the reader becomes not just an observer, but a participant in the intricate dance of life that spans across species.
In conclusion, "The Memory of Animals" is a literary gem that combines scientific intrigue, emotional resonance, and a deep reverence for the natural world. Claire Fuller's eloquent prose and imaginative storytelling create a tapestry that invites readers to ponder the fascinating intricacies of memory across species boundaries. This novel is a testament to the profound connections that bind us to the animal kingdom and the enduring legacy of memory in the grand tapestry of existence.
Rated of 5
by Anuj
Memories
It's very good book.
Rated 
of 5
by prem singh
The Memory of Animals
The Memory of Animals by Claire Fuller takes readers on a memorable experience of a world ravaged by a mysterious pandemic, where the line between present-day reality and memory blurs. As her mission intertwines with the evaluation of personal stories, Neffy, a marine life expert haunted by past defeats, reaches out to a perfect vaccination starter, a promising omen for humanity's salvation. . guarantees. As the rest of the world falls apart, Neffy and her kin – Rachel, Leon, Yahiko, Piper and the Woodwind Players – grapple with the inevitable effects of the pandemic as well as the horrifying echoes of their own decisions.
Fuller delivers a compelling story that transports readers to a very ordinary yet incredibly different future. The physical brutality and mental disorganization of the pandemic provide a terrifying setting, increasing the danger to Neffy and his allies. Amidst this disruptive influence, the story draws to a close on Neffy's bond with Leon, who was developing a dangerous memory improvement prior to his expulsion. This assessment of memory adds a layer of complexity to the story, obscuring the endpoints between the present and the past.
Neffy's attempts to deal with her past mistakes, her original purpose for self-emancipation, and her relationship with the confused Leon are the story's pivotal points of convergence. As clever fans emerge, questions emerge: Can faith be compensated for despite a massive deficit? What does it really tell us when memory is raw? How far can one go to protect friends and family?
"The Memory of Creatures" is a provocative assessment of the human mind despite its difficulty. Fuller's interesting composition competently works between the depiction of perception and quiet thought, achieving the embodiment of each character's fight. Caney welcomes readers to reflect on the fragility of memory and the resilience of the human spirit.
The tangled layers of the story unfold as Neffy and his sidekick grapple with their pasts while fighting for their destiny. As the story moves toward its conclusion, readers are forced to consider the complexities of memory and the dire effect our decisions can have on our character.
The Memory of Creatures is a display of Claire Fuller's narrative skills, offering a mix of tension, thought and assessment that will keep readers hooked until the very last page.
In her novel The Memory of Animals, author Claire Fuller features the use of a fictional device that allows people to revisit memories in vivid detail, as though physically embodying their past selves. Though this may sound like a radical concept existing firmly within the realms of science fiction, the use of technology to document memories — and in some cases even alter them — is, in a way, already very much a reality.
Wist is an app currently in its beta stage that can transform videos you have recorded on your phone into immersive experiences. By capturing and upscaling data related to color, depth and audio, the app can transform your footage from flat 2D visuals into 3D projections. Through the use of a virtual reality headset, these projections can then be displayed over your real surroundings, allowing you to feel that you're literally stepping inside the memories you caught on camera and exploring them up close from a new perspective.
HereAfter is an app that employs artificial intelligence (AI) to let users preserve their life stories to revisit or share with others in the future. The app presents you with hundreds of questions and prompts about yourself, your experiences and your thoughts. You speak your answers aloud so the app can record, organize and store your responses. As you build up a database of stories, the app produces, in effect, a virtual representation of your memories. This means you or your loved ones can pose questions about your life, and the app will be able to respond not only with your own words, but in your own voice. This could be particularly powerful for people with conditions like dementia, who wish to document their memories before they fade.
In March 2023, the Alamo Drafthouse theater in San Francisco hosted what is believed to be the first-ever AI film festival. The event showcased 10 short films made through the use of AI produced by a startup called Runway. The technology allows filmmakers to alter video footage and images with the use of text prompts. One such film was the work of 21-year-old student Sam Lawton. After compiling a series of photographs from throughout his own childhood, he instructed AI to alter them: expanding the images, adding extra details and inserting people into the frame who hadn't been present at the time. Once complete, he showed the images to his father and recorded his confused reactions, which served as the film's audio narration:
"No, that's not our house. Wow—wait a minute. That's our house. Something's wrong. I don't know what that is. Do I just not remember it?"
By blurring the line between fact and fiction, the project created fascinating insight into the way technology is opening up new methods of not only documenting memories, but changing them.
Even in our day-to-day lives, many of us scroll through social media streams of images that have been altered using photo editing and filters. Whether enhancing the lighting or masking a blemish or digitally erasing strangers from the background, people frequently adjust pictures in some capacity before sharing them. As such, while social media is a great example of technology that already allows us to capture, share and revisit specific moments in time, it's important to remember that the images we see are not simply snapshots of "real" memories, but rather curated and often idealized versions of them.
Indeed, just as Fuller explores in her fictional technology, the lure of happier times in the past can become addictive to users, making it increasingly difficult to remain in the present, and our current methods of preserving memories are not without their own potential downsides. As with all advancements in science and technology, social media, AI and any other forms of memory documentation will almost certainly be subject to increased study and moral debate.
Photo of man wearing virtual reality headset by Hammer & Tusk, via Unsplash
Filed under Medicine, Science and Tech
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