Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
Translated by J Philip Gabriel
Vintage (2005)
512 pages
OK, if there was one book that I’m dreading to write any sort of recap for it, it would be this book. Proof: I have updated my “to read” list, updated the links in the “books read in 2007” page, corrected minor spelling/grammar mistakes in the reviews here and at Goodreads, and cropped the image for the book cover for this post and fiddled with it, even though it had looked nice enough in the first place, and went out shopping for books; all this right after typing the title line up there.
I don’t have much experience reading Japanese literature, really, and something like 100% of what I read has been Murakami. Yes. I am that diverse. I don’t really know many Japanese authors. And I’ve only read three books by him, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (which creeped me out big time), Dance, Dance, Dance (which confused me terribly), and this book. Each time I read something by Murakami it leaves me scratching my head, wondering what the heck was I supposed to get from the books.
Simple translation: I have no idea what his books are actually about. It makes me feel a tad foolish, and I don’t really like being made to feel foolish.
This book isn’t mine — it’s my sister’s, and I took it away from her room when she had asked me whether I had read it. Rather doubtfully, I told her no. “Does any part of it have anything to do about being stuck in a well and out-of-body experiences,” sez I, since the two other books I read had, among other things, a person stuck in a well and imagery that made me jumpy, and there was a possibility (hah) that I had read this book and mixed the storylines up, but she says, “No, but there are cats,” so I say, “There was a guy missing a cat in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,” and she says, “Well, do you want to read this or not?” so I borrowed it, with some misgivings.
Reading it wasn’t a chore, not really. The narrative flows well, and I was curious what Kafka, our fifteen-year-old protagonist who has run away from home, is trying to accomplish. And there’s Nakata, a sweet old man who can talk to cats — well, who wouldn’t be interested in a story about a man who talks to cats? I liked Nakata, simple as he is. I can understand why Hoshino, the truck driver Nakata meets along the way, is so willing to follow the old man on his journey. There are funny parts. There are really, really weird parts. There are parts where people suddenly discuss classical music, personal philosophy and the meaning of life. There are prophecies. There is an Oedipal theme running through the whole book. There is a lot of symbolism, but what symbolises what, I have no idea. There are a lot of metaphors. Lots and lots and lots of metaphors. Everyone speaks using metaphors. I need to find a Metaphor-to-English dictionary, because this metaphorical world is a bit too much for me.
It wasn’t a bad read, really. It’s just that I end up finishing the novel wondering: but what the heck does it all mean?
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I had alternates, but I still read this book anyway for Renay’s Speculative Fiction challenge. :P
