Between Memory and Oblivion

Peter Briscoe’s Between Memory and Oblivion is a quietly captivating novel that reads like a love letter to books and the fading rituals of the bibliophile’s world. It’s a meditative story about a rare book dealer, Michael Ashe, whose life revolves around acquiring, preserving, and selling antiquarian books—an art form increasingly threatened by the dominance of digital media.

Michael is the kind of protagonist who speaks volumes through subtle actions. Recently back from a buying trip to Mexico, he expects to reconnect with an old client at a university library, only to find that the librarian has retired and been replaced by someone who sees his work as irrelevant. This sets the tone for the entire novel: a world in which analog knowledge and old-world craftsmanship are losing ground to convenience, speed, and screens. Michael’s disillusionment is deeply relatable to anyone who has watched their field or passion evolve past them.

Briscoe brings an elegant, tactile quality to his prose, particularly during Michael’s travels in Paris. Whether he’s strolling down Rue Bonaparte or sipping wine at a museum café, the details transport the reader and provide a striking contrast between beauty and loss. The central emotional thread of the novel—Michael’s encounter with Elise, a former lover—adds profound texture. Their Parisian rendezvous, though brief, is loaded with longing and closure. Elise’s line, “What I wanted wasn’t complicated,” lingers as a devastating commentary on missed chances and Michael’s emotional stasis.

The novel doesn’t shy away from intellectual detail. From 17th-century Latin treatises to French political pamphlets, it’s dense with references to literary history. For some readers, these digressions might feel excessive or overly academic. But for others—especially those who love libraries, marginalia, and the patina of old leather covers—it adds an irresistible charm.

Themes of memory, obsolescence, and self-worth are at the core of the story. Michael’s obsession with the librarian Gabriel Naudé—a historical figure who fought to preserve knowledge—mirrors his own struggle. Naudé’s belief that libraries should be universal and accessible becomes a kind of mission statement for Michael, even as he realizes that few share his vision anymore.

Briscoe also introduces younger characters like María, Michael’s assistant, who quietly signals the possibility of continuity and change. Her curiosity and growing confidence suggest that while institutions may shift, the passion for learning and storytelling can persist.

Ultimately, Between Memory and Oblivion is about finding meaning in the work we do—even when the world stops noticing. It’s an ode to the quiet stewards of culture and knowledge, those who keep turning the pages even as the lights dim. For readers who cherish fiction that explores identity, purpose, and the slow fade of tradition, this novel offers a thoughtful, resonant experience.