“You know Florence?”

Clarice Starling: ‘Did you do those drawings, Doctor?’

Dr Hannibal Lecter: ‘Ah. That is the Duomo seen from the Belvedere. You know Florence?’

Clarice Starling: ‘All that detail just from memory?’

Hannibal Lecter: ‘Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.’

Thomas Harris / The Silence of the Lambs [1998]

A few months ago, my wife suggested we go to Italy, specifically Florence for a little break, just the two of us. This Tuscan city was mentioned because she has always wanted to view the paintings in the Uffizi Gallery, and wander through the city, viewing the historic architecture. She is also aware of my interest in exploring the place where Thomas Harris set a significant part of his 1999 novel HANNIBAL. Florence is where his character Dr Hannibal Lecter fled after his escape from Baltimore at the close of 1988’s THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, taking on the disguise of Dr Fell.

Though she has grown irritated at my recent obsessive behaviour, related to my fascination with a novel released last week.

She said last night as I was reading aloud a scene from Thomas Harris’ 6^th novel - “It’s getting tiresome, all you ever talk about is Cari Mora, by Thomas Harris.” Continuing “You carry that bloody book around with everywhere, quoting from it to anyone who passes by, it’s mental and driving me insane; and it’s not the first time, and is not normal, it’s weird.”

Florence apart from being the hiding place of Dr Hannibal Lecter (a setting in Thomas Harris’ 4^th novel Hannibal), also lends its name to a ‘condition’, one that some appear to suffer from: when a piece of ‘art’ resonates within them.

I should know, as I suffer from Florence Syndrome [aka Stendhal Syndrome]. Sometimes a piece of writing, music or art resonates so deeply within me, it’s like the peal of a bell, chiming within, so my thoughts become trapped, as my mind focuses only of that piece of art, again, again, again, especially triggered by evocative writing, thought-provoking narratives - like my current obsession with Cari Mora.

 “I was in a sort of ecstasy, from the idea of being in Florence, close to the great men whose tombs I had seen. Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty ... I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations ... Everything spoke so vividly to my soul. Ah, if I could only forget. I had palpitations of the heart, what in Berlin they call 'nerves'. Life was drained from me. I walked with the fear of falling.”

French author Stendhal (pseudonym of Marie-Henri Beyle)

Who described his experience in 1817 with his work “Naples and Florence: A Journey from Milan to Reggio” where he was overcome with profound emotion at what he experienced in the art that spoke to him, in Florence.

It gave rise to the term Stendhal Syndrome, or Florence Syndrome - a psychosomatic condition involving rapid heartbeat, dizziness, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations, allegedly occurring when individuals become exposed to objects or phenomena of great beauty.

I pass an apology to those I have annoyed with my Stendhal-like utterings about the sixth novel by Thomas Harris. This weird feeling lingers inside me, like it does whenever I have been exposed to a piece of art, music or writing that for some reason resonates, plaguing my mind. It gives me a racing heart; I feel dizzy, faint and plagued by nightmares whenever this occurs. It is also exhilarating, and I get affected by varying degrees, from the literature, art and music, that speaks to me.

When it does, I become obsessive.

My personal Stendhal Syndrome is always at a zenith, an apex, whenever I read a new novel by Thomas Harris, or listen to his voice narrate his own work; narratives acted out in his native Mississippi twang, that becomes a ‘southern gothic’ that makes me think so very, very deeply, haunting my conscious and subconscious mind.

I am so very sorry if I have annoyed you, with my love of Cari Mora and the writings of this author who I have followed since I was a clueless 17-year old.

It has never been my intention to annoy, as I mean no harm – sorry.

“We don’t invent our natures...they’re issued to us along with our lungs and

Pancreas and everything else.”

Dr Hannibal Lecter, speaking to Will Graham

Thomas Harris / Red Dragon [1981]

Remembering The Duomo, Florence

Some people comment and query upon how come I have such a good memory. The older I get the more important an active memory becomes, for memory is a critical aspect of thinking, cognition, and therefore how we see the world. It also helps manage (for me) the Anxiety of Existence; the randomness of 'Being' and combatting negative, depressive and dangerous thinking.

The process of cultivating a sharp and extensive memory is not easy, it requires effort and an organisation of the thought processes. This effort, this cultivation, & activation of 'Memory' not only requires the managed and lucid recall of 'good & insightful' past events, but also the management of bad ones too. It also requires constant maintenance, as well as an awareness of how the memories we keep, morph and distort as we reflect, re-interpret as well as rationalise what we construct as reality, our existence, and who we share it with.

Ultimately memory also helps explain 'who we are' - by the context of our existence from our memories.

I smiled many years ago when I stumbled upon a book by Jonathan Spence, about Matteo Ricci. At the risk of emitting a loud clanging name-drop; I came across this work from my correspondence with Thomas Harris many years ago, when I asked him about Dr Hannibal Lecter's ability in drawing (with charcoal) The Duomo [The Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore], from Florence (from Memory as he didn't have a window in his cell) while incarcerated in Baltimore. Harris told me that Dr Lecter's Memory sprang from this book on Ricci, which he would later name check in the footnotes of 1999's much misunderstood (and from some quarters much maligned) HANNIBAL.

This Sunday morning the house is silent. My wife Muriel is at the Gym. Our eldest daughter Sophia has gone into work of her own volition, as like all the Karims' - we work hard. Our Son Alexander is in Malaysia to view the upcoming Grand Prix with friends and our youngest daughter Miriam spends her first day at University, in Hall.

I am alone in bed, with my thoughts.

Last night we hit traffic (Sophia, Muriel and I) returning back from moving our youngest daughter to University. There were road closures, diversions, it was bad biff. We argued in the car as we were tired and after a long and emotional day, we were stressed leaving the youngest Karim to fend for herself in this weird reality we share.

At one point while bypassing the Sat-Nav (which had gone rogue) Sophia said 'Dad you are weird, you think weirdly' it made me silent as that observation made me ponder.

Yesterday our youngest daughter Miriam presented me with a gift from her recent travels in San Francisco - as we ate a meal, part of the ritual families do when they part, she passed me over a gift, a small square piece of plastic, with a microchip embedded beneath the surface.

The gift was a device called ‘Tile’ that links your keys, IPhone to a computer. It attaches to your key-ring and has a button that makes your phone ring if you've misplaced it, so you can find it. Miriam said 'so it will help you, if your memory fails'

I smiled at the word memory.

Sure, I touch my bulky key ring (which also acts as a defence tool) many times in the day, feeling its comfort in my trouser leg (during the day) and now (thanks to Miriam's gift) it can help me locate my IPhone, if I misplace it.

The 'Tile device' is small and attached to my key chain, so i feel the white plastic gift from my Daughter all the time, and I mean all the time. So several times of the day, I will think lucidly about our youngest Daughter Miriam Karim, because of this 'Tile', now part of my defensive key ring - something I see and feel throughout my 'conscious' day, as it comforts and is a tangible part of my realty; and makes me think about Miriam when I see or feel it.

Though Miriam thought that she gave me a practical gift (from her vacation in San Francisco) to ensure I always remembered my Iphone, but in reality it will be my way of thinking about her every day, and several times, having the comfort that there is in what we remember; in our Memory.

I also have items on my person, that remind me of my Wife, my Eldest Daughter, my Son as well as my Mother, Father and two Brothers.

This memory technique, the solidification of memory (the recall of days now passed) by physical touch / association to provoke thought - (among other techniques) was noted in the book that Jonathan Spence wrote, based on the life of Matteo Ricci; the same book that Thomas Harris told me about; the same book that helped him flesh out the character of Dr Hannibal Lecter - his remarkable memory.

So as I pondered upon the comment my eldest daughter Sophia said last night as we battled traffic adversity 'Dad, you're 'Weird' and which my Wife added 'Yes, you do think in a weird way' - I now smile, as I'm glad I think the way I do, for with our thoughts, we make the world as Buddha once conjectured and Rene Descartes confirmed, for 'I think, therefore I am'

I like weird; enjoy your Sunday, and perhaps some of us may purchase a charcoal stick and draw an image, something that resonates, something from what we term a memory, of a day now passed, perhaps of that Duomo, that Dr Fell would later view after fleeing Baltimore - and perhaps we'll fold it and place in our wallets, to remind us of the beauty contained in this world; to protect our thoughts and distract them roaming over all that scares us in this random and weird place.

"Typhoid and Swans, Officer Starling, they come from the same place"

Dr Hannibal Lecter, Baltimore, Maryland

More information about THE MEMORY PALACE OF MATTEO RICCI by Jonathan D Spence available Here