I finished The Giver, by Lois Lowry, for the first time last week. I had started it years ago and dropped it in middle because I found it disturbing, but one of my students had to read it so I read it too. I still find it disturbing but also moving and profound.
The story centers around Jonas, an eleven-year-old boy who is selected to be the next Receiver of Memory on behalf of the Community, a dystopian world where every aspect of life is regulated by the ruling committee in the name of peace and equality. No one in the Community experiences pain or, on the other hand, pleasure, or any real emotions at all, as the Receiver holds all memories of what life was like before the Community was established. As part of his training, Jonas receives memory transfers from the current Receiver, who now becomes the Giver. Many memories are happy, while many are painful. It becomes pretty clear, though, when you compare Jonas’s new life with the existence of his fellow citizens, that the ability to experience emotional depth is absolutely worth the price of having to experience pain.
Throughout the book I was struck by the simplicity of the happy memories that Jonas acquires, and how easily attained and taken for granted such moments are. Here are a few images that I want to hold onto:
- a bright red sled, a snowy hill, and visible breath
- a sailboat moving briskly on a turquoise lake
- a birthday party
- grandparents
- horseback riding
- a fire burning in a fireplace
- picnics
- dancing barefoot in the damp grass
- gurgling streams
- deep, contented exhaustion
- a hammock gently swinging beside lapping water
- banquets
- warm fruit eaten straight off the tree
We have so, so many wonderful things to hold onto just by virtue of existing in the world. I never want to forget that. The Giver helped me remember.
