64 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of sexual violence and death.
The novel argues that human connection is a vital force that gives meaning to memory, history, and sacrifice. In a world where institutions seek to control time by selectively erasing or preserving memories, human connection resists such regulation, shaping characters’ choices and altering the course of history for the better.
Even in the abstract, human relationships emerge as central to the novel’s concerns. Though Lisavet is initially isolated in the time space, her earliest acts there are motivated by empathy. Her desire to preserve memories, particularly those threatened by war, stems from her belief that individual lives matter. As first the Nazi and then the American and Russian timekeepers deem certain memories insignificant or dangerous, Lisavet insists that they are worthy of being saved simply because she recognizes the humanity of the people to whom the memories belong.
Lisavet’s relationship with Ernest emphasizes the value of human connection, as she realizes that love has been missing from her isolated life. Through shared memories, poetry, and music, Lisavet experiences a fuller life than she ever has before. Similarly, when they reunite years later while she is working for the CIA, she realizes that her love for him is not something that she can erase or escape. At the same time, Ernest’s love for Lisavet leads him to betray his institutional loyalty to the CIA, emphasizing that personal bonds inspire moral resistance through love, moral support, and a renewed view of what matters.
Amelia’s arc throughout the novel similarly conveys the value of human connection, as she finds a true home and family after the loss of both her mother and uncle. Unlike many other characters, Amelia is guided by relationships; the novel describes even “her body [as] yearn[ing]” for connection with others (157). She thus seeks her uncle, trusts Anton, and eventually reconciles with Lisavet. She puts her life in danger many times, both by entering the time space and by standing up to Jack’s authority and control. The final world that Amelia inhabits, where her parents live freely and memories exist as stars, is one in which personal connection flourishes outside the corrupt systems of governmental and bureaucratic control.
In the end, The Book of Lost Hours suggests that amid the upheavals of life and history, human connection endures. Indeed, by choosing love, trust, and shared responsibility, the characters ultimately reshape history, suggesting connection’s transformative power.
The novel’s fantastical elements frame history as a living, unstable force shaped by memory, power, and human choice. Through the existence of the time space and the work of timekeepers, the text explores the idea that history can be altered, preserved, and even erased, though never without consequences. Although fantastical, this premise reflects the adage that “history is written by the victors” (94).
From the beginning, the time space allows governments to manipulate the past by destroying memories deemed inconvenient or dangerous. Lisavet initially resists this practice by preserving memories others seek to burn, particularly those connected to marginalized lives and wartime suffering. Her actions reveal not only that history is a narrative but also that it is one underpinned by political concerns; what survives depends on who is allowed to decide what matters. Conversely, those who remember what others would like to forget engage in an act of political resistance—an idea literalized in the form of the timekeeper rebellion.
Erenest’s growing awareness of altered memories underscores that historical revisionism affects individuals unevenly. Because Lisavet exists outside of time, she remembers what others forget, creating an imbalance of knowledge and agency. This asymmetry underscores that rewriting history often benefits those in power while disorienting or even erasing everyone else. Jack’s use of memory erasure as a bureaucratic tool reinforces this danger, as history becomes something to control rather than understand, especially in the context of war. Jack rewrites history as he sees fit to control the narrative throughout the Cold War.
Beyond exposing the injustice of historical revisionism, the novel explores its practical costs. Lisavet’s later interventions, as she changes events to protect Amelia and erases those who remember her, figuratively demonstrate the escalating consequences of altering history. Each change fractures the time space further, a metaphorical embodiment of history’s instability. If, as Azrael claims, history is “a mirror” through which humans understand themselves, this opens up the possibility of a past and present that endlessly reflect one another, growing further and further removed from any truth—something that is of concern to the powerful and powerless alike. In practical terms, the novel suggests that this is why attempts to smooth over or erase the past merely replicate cycles of violence; the very act is itself a kind of violence.
The novel provides an ethical response to this problem in its final lines, as both Ernest and Lisavet agree to destroy the time space. After Lisavet and Ernest reunite, she sees the value of the rebels and the danger of her attempts to alter memory and history. Lisavet’s sacrifice serves as both accountability for what she did and acceptance of the dangers of manipulating the historical record. As Amelia looks into the time space for the final time, she sees the memories freed from the shelves and scattered as stars, as history is no longer something to possess or use. Instead, as Lisavet shows, it is something to coexist with.
The novel frames grief as an experience that must be acknowledged in order for individuals, and history itself, to move forward. Because loss is inevitable, characters who try to erase, rewrite, or control their grief remain trapped in cycles of manipulation and harm. Conversely, those who confront grief directly are able to free themselves from its control and find happiness despite what they have lost.
Lisavet’s childhood tragedy, the loss of her family, drives her initial desire to preserve memories. While this impulse begins as an act of compassion and defiance, it gradually becomes a more personal obsession: a refusal to let go even when doing so would be beneficial. She sees the lost memories that she saves as comparable to her father, underscoring the lasting impact of his death and her struggle to reckon with it. Her repeated intervention with the timekeepers and her riskier attempts to save memories lead to Ernest’s injury, her own attack, and, ultimately, her removal from the time space by Jack. Similarly, when she separates herself from Ernest and struggles to raise her child, her unprocessed grief motivates increasingly dangerous choices. The chasm in the time space visually represents this unresolved loss, widening as Lisavet attempts to prevent pain rather than endure it. By preserving everything, Lisavet avoids mourning, but in doing so, she fractures both time and herself.
As Moira, she continues to resist facing grief and loss. She erases Ernest’s memories again, emotionally isolates herself, and repeatedly pledges her loyalty to Jack. While in some ways acts of resistance, these actions ultimately stem from the fear of losing Amelia. Rather than grieving the life she cannot have, Moira suppresses her pain and seeks power and control in an effort to prevent future suffering. However, this denial leaves her unable to connect fully with Ernest or find peace with her life. In the name of protection, she is forced to sacrifice Amelia and Ernest, the very people she has tried so desperately to save. This underscores the futility of her actions: Whatever path she chooses, loss is inevitable.
Amelia represents an alternative response to grief. Though she experiences the loss of both her adoptive mother and her uncle (later revealed to be her biological father), she does not attempt to rewrite or erase her pain. Even after she learns of what her biological mother did with her as a child, she simply grieves rather than using her abilities in the time space to “rectify” what she has been through. Her decision to close the door to the time space reaffirms that while remembering the past is important, healing often requires release.
The novel thus argues that accepting grief is an act of courage and ultimately brings Lisavet to a point where she is able to do so. In the end, as she floats with the memories in the sky, she finally accepts her life for what it is, enjoying all the versions of it—even the ones with grief and loss.
In The Book of Lost Hours, war is a force that brings more than violence and death; it distorts morality, dehumanizes individuals, and normalizes systems of violence and control. War’s destructiveness is thus not limited to battlefields. Instead, it permeates memory, identity, and relationships, shaping a world where cruelty seems justified in the name of a broader historical cause.
Jack’s character embodies this mindset, as he repeatedly argues that individual suffering is irrelevant compared to national security. First, he tries to force Ernest to forcibly remove Lisavet from the time space, then, when Ernest fails to do so, he kidnaps Lisavet himself. When she begins working for him at the CIA, his manipulation of her shows his willingness to exploit her vulnerability, turning her desperation to survive—itself an artifact of wartime violence—into compliance. He allows her to grow close to Ernest again only to tear them apart and sexually assault Moira, asserting his dominance and control. Throughout all of this, he oversees a program that burns books, tortures timekeepers, and erases memories, all in the name of “protection.” He thus mirrors his historical and institutional context: a Cold War-era CIA obsessed with winning at any cost.
Lisavet’s arc illustrates how even resistance to war can be corrupted by its logic. Her initial efforts to preserve memories stem from compassion, yet the prolonged conflict pushes her toward increasingly extreme actions; she justifies manipulation, secrecy, and even murder as acceptable sacrifices. She participates in interrogations and erases others’ memories, positioning doing so as her only choice to protect herself and Amelia. In this way, the novel suggests that war erodes moral boundaries and corrodes human relationships by placing survival at the heart of every action.
By the novel’s end, the destruction of the time space conveys a rejection of war’s foundational premise: that domination can bring peace. When the memories are freed and the mechanisms of control dismantled, the characters finally find safety and happiness. The novel ultimately condemns war as a self-perpetuating system that survives by reshaping humanity in its own image.



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