Method: Ulanowicz’s Second-Generation Memory

In Second-Generation Memory and Contemporary Children’s Literature, Anastasia Ulanowicz presents a compelling analysis of the theme and process of memory as demonstrated by several primary texts and numerous theoretical underpinnings. Her introduction sets up her working definition of “second-generation memory,” as well as situates her ideas within the field of memory studies, paying particular attention to the language of her label compared to other theorists who favor terms such as Marianne Hirsch’s “postmemory” (7).

For Ulanowicz, second-generation memory “is a form of collective memory that involves an individual’s conscious incorporation of her elders’ memories of a traumatic past within her own mnemonic repertoire” (4). A large component of this type of memory is how it becomes framed “by a profound self-awareness” (4). It isn’t a passive reception of memories, but an active integration of the past into one’s present life – a critical awareness of how the memories of past generations can affect one’s own interpretation of self. Ulanowicz presents Children’s Literature as a particularly rich field for this type of memory-study, noting: “It is especially important to consider how second-generation-themed children’s books imagine and construct their audiences because such texts often aim not only to represent such memory but to produce it as well. These books are often the first sources representing historical trauma that young people encounter; moreover, the images and stories these texts depict are potentially powerful enough to remain entrenched in readers’ memories and to shape their historical and ethical perspectives” (22). Children’s Literature texts have the ability to both document past memories, as well as shape new ones. And while Ulanowicz may present her child-readers as impressionable here – being molded by the memories they acquire – she is careful to also offer them agency by exploring the numerous ways they may choose to integrate these memories into their lives, from being agents of radical social change to using them to reflect on more personal problems.

In the following chapters, Ulanowicz offers insightful close readings of her primary texts in order to elaborate and expand her theoretical concepts. She uses The Giver to explore the “ethical dimension” of second-generation memory, whereby “such memory incorporates obligation to and responsibility for others” (16). She also uses this text to grapple with the process of second-generation memory acquisition. Based on an examination of the relationship between Jonas and the Giver, Ulanowicz claims that “second-generation memory develops within the context of physical and psychological intimacy” (42). While this is not always limited to familial relationships – such as in the case of Zlata’s Diary where the protagonist’s second-generation memory is mediated by the cultural artifact of Anne Frank’s own diary – there is a recurring idea of some form of “kinship” (91) that takes place between givers and receivers of memory.

One place where I wish Ulanowicz had gone further in her chapter on The Giver was her brief mentioning of the Giver’s daughter who “committed suicide after inheriting only a few sorrowful memories” (54). This offhand reference to a rather poignant plot point would seem to open up interesting questions about the parameters necessary for successful transference of second-generation memory. His daughter’s suicide seems to beg for analysis, especially as Ulanowicz posits that the Giver increasingly takes on the father-role for Jonas. Although we may assume the Giver and his daughter had the “the trust, intimacy, and affection that make possible the transfer of one generation’s memory to the next” (45), it was still unsuccessful. What is the difference between Jonas and the Giver’s daughter in terms of their ability to assume the role of memory-bearer? While Ulanowicz notes earlier in the chapter that the position of the second-generation memory bearer is not that of the “exceptional” individual, but instead is available to anyone who is willing and ready to critically engage with their surroundings, the daughter’s suicide perhaps serves as a warning or reminder that past trauma can be equally jarring even in the present moment, even when experienced through storytelling as opposed to direct witnessing.

One of the strengths of Ulanowicz’s work is how it allows for a plurality of meaning by looking at texts that treat second-generation memory quite differently. She explicitly refers to works that she knows go against the grain, or lead to a more complex definition of her theme, perhaps beating some of her critics to the punch. However, while I appreciate this move, I also believe her arguments are strongest when they stayed tied to explicit, as opposed to implicit, interpretations of those texts. For example, in her final chapter, she argues that in The Man Who Walked Between the Towers, “The reader is prompted, in other words, to recognize the vulnerability embodied by Petit and his impromptu audience – and in turn, to acknowledge the much more radical vulnerability felt by the U.S. at the moment of the September 11th attacks” (178). And while she does make a case for this type of reading, referring to graphic connections between the text’s images and photographs from the actual event, she also admits: “Of course, it may be readily argued that the political implications of Gerstein’s text will be missed by his targeted audience: after all, the intended readers of The Man Who Walked Between the Towers are presumably children with little to no memory of the tragic event which the book subtly commemorates, let alone the still earlier (inter)national conflicts his text implies. Indeed, one could hardly argue that most adults…would immediately grasp the correspondences implicit within Gerstein’s text. And yet, it is important to recognize that such correspondences are still there, as it were, for the taking. Their recognition, however, ultimately depends upon a mode of perception that is associative rather than strictly rational – a mode of perception that, as I have argued in the preceding chapters, is inherent in the most naive, and least mediated, forms of second-generation memory” (183). Ulanowicz attempts to justify her non-traditional readings; yet, her final sentence here reads a bit ambiguously. While I don’t disagree that an associative reading can have value, I think her admission that the overwhelming majority of readers would not interpret the text this way may undermine the strength of her argument.