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Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Kafka On The Shore - Haruki Murakami
I realized that the mistake I've been making with this blog is that after finishing a book or other reading material, I wait for inspiration to strike before I actually write down reflections. But that's the inherent problem with that system: they're supposed to be reflections. Which means if I wait for inspiration, I probably won't ever end up writing.
So here goes.
Some of my dearest friends - and people whose reading recommendations I take quite seriously - have been recommending Haruki Murakami's novels to me for quite a while now. Due partly to lack of time, partly to lack of availability, I never managed to get through one until today. I checked out Kafka on the Shore from the local library and to tell the truth, I wasn't sure if i'd get through it. It's rather long and seemed a bit daunting, but I started it yesterday and I'm finished today. It was quite the adventure, a roller coaster ride of sorts, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
A rough plot synopsis (no spoilers, don't worry)
Kafka Tamura is fifteen years old, does not smile, and is running away from home. On his way he meets spunky Sakura, the ambiguous Oshima, the beautiful, sad Miss Saeki, and several others. Mr. Nakata, an elderly man who has never recovered from a wartime affliction, can converse with cats and meets truck driver Hoshino. A bloody murder brings their stories together, in incomprehensible ways. Through various twists and turns including a stone, a forest, a library and a painting, Nakata finds peace and Kafka finds resolution.
Some first impressions:
I was thrown off at first by the nonchalant manner in which Murakami has his characters spout out philosophical aphorisms, periodically coming to stark realizations through sometimes hurried and seemingly odd conversation. After reading through a few chapters, though, I began to understand that it is less of an artificial construction and more of a stylistic utensil of sorts. Strange and affected though it may seem, Murakami's characters themselves inhabit a world of strangeness and affected naturality. So for them, such Rand-like haphazard philosophical renditions are quite commonplace and should not be construed as otherwise.
Garcia Marquez also comes to mind, of course, with the surreal, Dali-esque warps of time and place. There is some quality to Murakami's writing, however, that bring distance to the reader's mind, that make one feel the solitude and aloofness that Kafka, Oshima, Miss Saeki and Mr. Nakata bring to life off the pages of the novel.
I think the reader might get a little more out of the novel with a tiny bit more knowledge about Japanese history, culture and literature than me, but it was not too much of a hindrance that I don't have much. The transparency of Murakami's language was a pleasure but does not speak down to the reader or insult his intelligence.
There are a few threads in this intricately woven tale that I think are left hanging, probably intentionally. I suspect that after a night's sleep I may find myself weaving my own resolutions with whatever strands are still loose in my memory.
As with any deeply haunting read, the cadences and synesthetic sensations of the novel insinuate themselves into the reader's mind, becoming part of the system, for a while at least. I thoroughly enjoyed Kafka On The Shore and would highly recommend it.
So here goes.
Some of my dearest friends - and people whose reading recommendations I take quite seriously - have been recommending Haruki Murakami's novels to me for quite a while now. Due partly to lack of time, partly to lack of availability, I never managed to get through one until today. I checked out Kafka on the Shore from the local library and to tell the truth, I wasn't sure if i'd get through it. It's rather long and seemed a bit daunting, but I started it yesterday and I'm finished today. It was quite the adventure, a roller coaster ride of sorts, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
A rough plot synopsis (no spoilers, don't worry)
Kafka Tamura is fifteen years old, does not smile, and is running away from home. On his way he meets spunky Sakura, the ambiguous Oshima, the beautiful, sad Miss Saeki, and several others. Mr. Nakata, an elderly man who has never recovered from a wartime affliction, can converse with cats and meets truck driver Hoshino. A bloody murder brings their stories together, in incomprehensible ways. Through various twists and turns including a stone, a forest, a library and a painting, Nakata finds peace and Kafka finds resolution.
Some first impressions:
I was thrown off at first by the nonchalant manner in which Murakami has his characters spout out philosophical aphorisms, periodically coming to stark realizations through sometimes hurried and seemingly odd conversation. After reading through a few chapters, though, I began to understand that it is less of an artificial construction and more of a stylistic utensil of sorts. Strange and affected though it may seem, Murakami's characters themselves inhabit a world of strangeness and affected naturality. So for them, such Rand-like haphazard philosophical renditions are quite commonplace and should not be construed as otherwise.
Garcia Marquez also comes to mind, of course, with the surreal, Dali-esque warps of time and place. There is some quality to Murakami's writing, however, that bring distance to the reader's mind, that make one feel the solitude and aloofness that Kafka, Oshima, Miss Saeki and Mr. Nakata bring to life off the pages of the novel.
I think the reader might get a little more out of the novel with a tiny bit more knowledge about Japanese history, culture and literature than me, but it was not too much of a hindrance that I don't have much. The transparency of Murakami's language was a pleasure but does not speak down to the reader or insult his intelligence.
There are a few threads in this intricately woven tale that I think are left hanging, probably intentionally. I suspect that after a night's sleep I may find myself weaving my own resolutions with whatever strands are still loose in my memory.
As with any deeply haunting read, the cadences and synesthetic sensations of the novel insinuate themselves into the reader's mind, becoming part of the system, for a while at least. I thoroughly enjoyed Kafka On The Shore and would highly recommend it.
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