QUOTE (Graeme @ July 25 2008, 06:38 PM)

It added to the characterisation, because it made it like George lived in the here and now, and only the here and now -- which is what he was doing, given his memory. It wasn't glaring, which would have been a mistake, but it was like a nice seasoning that enriched the whole story.
QUOTE (Cynical Romantic @ July 25 2008, 05:38 PM)

For George, every day is like starting over; he can't remember his past, and as a result, he has no choice but to live entirely in the present. So I thought it worked really well to write the story in present tense here.
That's the justification I had in mind. I don't usually like reading present tense either, although I've higher tolerance for it than, say, second person narration. IMO, this sort of decision is part of the form, which should fit the function/substance of the work. It's actually analogous to a concept that I learned in evolutionary biology -- 'form fits function.' Each of Darwin's finches has the right beak shape for whatever ecological niche it's evolved into.

QUOTE (Procyon @ July 25 2008, 08:15 PM)

The emergence of the story as the jigsaw puzzle that was George's memory, and to which he never had all the pieces at once, was also great, as were the changes in his perception of the world from one day to the next. All very subtle and delicious. This gave me so much more to think about than it would if the point of view hadn't been as closely focussed on George -- it was so centred on him that it felt like first person.
I could say more but it's late and I have to sleep. I don't believe you're referencing Proust, though!! Gasp. That is truly shocking. Anyway, it's still a very good story.

*basks in praise* Danke, danke schoen. And the Proust reference... wait, what's so abominable about that?

QUOTE (steph291 @ July 26 2008, 06:38 PM)

Was Eliot also George's son-in-law? or was it just a coincidence that both his daughter and Eliot's wife had terminal cancer?
Spoilers!:
I don't think Eliot was George's son-in-law -- Eliot and George are both professors and are of the same generation, I think. So Eliot didn't marry Marigold. Otherwise, George's affair with Eliot would be highly incestuous indeed.

His wife left him because of the affair, but it's not explained why Eliot is in the cemetery in the first place, so maybe she did die of cancer.

Or maybe he's just waiting for George to show up.
QUOTE (Cynical Romantic @ July 26 2008, 07:11 PM)

Actually, there were two other movies that sprung to mind when I read this. One was "The Notebook", which deals with Alzheimer's, but of course is much less dark than this story. And the other was "Memento", which deals with a short-term memory condition and has some of the same issues of timeline confusion and not knowing who to trust. But think this story stands a cut above either of those movies on an emotional level.
QUOTE (Graeme @ July 26 2008, 07:27 PM)

When I was reading this story, and got to the ending, that episode sprang to mind and I could visualise that expression on Maddy's face. The situations are not identical, but there's enough similarity for me to make the connection.
I haven't seen any of the things you guys mentioned, but I keep thinking... I got the basic idea from somewhere else. *wracks brain*
QUOTE (Tiff @ July 26 2008, 07:02 PM)

What else can I say other than amazing? You have the art of not overdoing anything, but giving a slight hint, or a brief note, and then letting the reader feel the aftermath once we associate your words with something within ourselves. Does that sentence make any sense? LOL. I'm trying to articulate how your story made me feel, but I just read it, and my thoughts are still a bit jumbled. So I'll do my best to explain.
...
The ending paragraphs were very powerful. Maddy said she forgave George a long time ago, but she obviously read what he wrote and even though he forgot it the next day, it still means a lot to her, the fact that he acknowledges it and wanted to make it up to her.
*bows* I think I understand what you mean about telling a story by not telling it -- either that, or I in my ego have transformed your words into something I'd like to hear

-- but yes, it's one way to convey a story, and by no means the only way. Sometimes I think of it as aural painting in music, or a minimalism in the visual arts.
George is one of those characters who've done bad things but whom I can't help feeling sorry for anyway. I think it's telling that he wants forgiveness from his wife and daughter, and that he keeps wanting it, fresh from each memory loss -- it's a testament to his inherent good nature, I think. It's also telling that his bisexual/homosexual inclinations isn't one of the things he remembers most easily about himself, unlike his professorship. I don't know how much of it is the double thinking that comes with an upsetting memory -- probably the same reason why it's so hard for him to remember Marigold's existence.