Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami

I usually like to spread out over time the authors I review.  However, Haruki Murakami has taken a firm hold on my imagination, and when his newest book arrived recently, I immediately began reading.  Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage is a fascinating tale of relationships, the meanings of friendship, and the effect misunderstandings can have.

Five friends in high school – three young men and two young women – band together to complete a community service project.  When the project ends, they continue to hang out with each other.  Four of the members of this group have, as part of their names, a kanji symbol which also refers to a color: red, blue, black, and white, which they used as nicknames.  Tsukuru’s name did not contain any color, so he remained Tsukuru.  After graduation, they all went their separate ways to college.  Tsukuru receives a strange message, that his four friends no longer want anything to do with him, and furthermore, he was not to contact any of them in any way whatsoever.  This message contained no explanation of what had happened.  Naturally, Tsukuru becomes devastated to the point of contemplating suicide.  Then he meets a woman who urges him to contact his friends and learn why he was ostracized from the group.  His “pilgrimage” involves traveling around Japan and Europe to track down his friends.  What he discovers about them – and more importantly about himself – is a rather poignant story.

As he has done in previous novels, Murakami sprinkles lots of references to music in his story.  He also plays with the colors and the occupations of the five friends.  Also, like Tengo in 1Q84, Tsukuru is a rather fastidious creature of habit.  Again, like Tengo, Tsukuru frets over his fear of being alone.  Murakami writes, “Maybe I am fated to always be alone, Tsukuru found himself thinking.  People came to him, but in the end they always left.  They came, seeking something, but either they couldn’t find it, or were unhappy with what they found (or else they were disappointed or angry), and then they left.  One day, without warning, they vanished, with no explanation, no word of farewell.  Like a silent hatchet had sliced the ties between them, ties through which warm blood still flowed, along with a quiet pulse.

One of the interesting aspects of Murakami’s fiction is his attention to microscopic detail.  He describes an encounter with the new friend who urges him to solve the mystery of his lost friends.  Murakami writes, “She took a sip of coffee and returned the cup to the saucer.  She paused, and checked her enameled nails.  They looked beautiful, painted in the same maroon color as her handbag (perhaps a little lighter).  He was willing to bet a month’s salary this wasn’t a coincidence” (147).

Compared to some of his other novels, this small format book of a little less than 400 pages, really seems like a novella.  Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami would be a great introduction to this important figure in world literature.  5 stars

--Chiron, 9/20/14

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

Haruki Murakami is an important writer, and 1Q84 is an amazing and wonderful story.  But I must warn readers there are about a half-dozen explicit scenes, which account for about a dozen or so pages of 925 but are easy to spot and skip.  However, one such scene has important implications for the plot.  In part one and two of the novel, the chapters alternate between two characters.

Tengo is a 30 year-old-man who is a math prodigy and teaches at a cram school for students preparing for college.  He is a “gentle giant” figure and liked, loved, and respected by everyone he meets.  He pines for a woman he loved and lost.  He also works for a literary magazine.  While examining manuscripts submitted for an important literary prize for new authors, he comes across a wonderful story titled Air Chrysalis.  The manuscript purported to be written by a 17 year-old high school girl, Fuka-Eri, but it is full of errors and omissions, and it lacks clarity and organization.  Something about the story enchants Tengo, and he takes it to his editor.  Together, they decide to re-write the story to make it a prize winner.  Tengo is reluctant.  He recognizes the plan amounts to fraud.  He agrees to meet the peculiar young lady and her guardian.  They okay the plan, but Tengo says he will adhere to the voice of Fuka-Eri.  He rewrites the story, it wins the prize, and quickly becomes a best seller. 

Aomame is a 30 year-old woman who has a black belt in Karate, and works as a fitness coach and a physical therapist.  She lives alone, and dreams about a man she loved who is no longer in her life.  Aomame lost her best friend when she committed suicide as a result of a seriously dangerous husband who constantly physically abused her.  Aomame takes matters into her own hands and kills the husband.  She escapes cleanly, and, because of her skills in physical therapy, the death appeared to result from a heart attack.  Aomame partners with a woman who lost a daughter to spouse abuse, and she runs a home for abused women and children.  When one of the husbands shows up and attempts to cause trouble, Aomame takes care of him.  Aomame carries out her last murder of a powerful figure, and she is in hiding awaiting plastic surgery and escape to a place far away. 

In Part 3, a private investigator – a most unpleasant man by all and every measure – is hired by the dead man’s family to find Aomame.  They know who she is, but she has completely disappeared.  Ushigawa begins alternating chapters with Tengo and Aomame.

When Tengo was ten, he was teased by students, and had no friends.  Aomame was peculiar, and she also had no friends.  One day, Tengo was crying, and Aomame held his hand tightly for a few minutes.  Neither spoke a word.  She left the classroom, and he never saw her again.  20 years later, he begins searching for her.  Aomame has not forgotten Tengo either, but she is in hiding and cannot risk leaving the safe house to look for him.  The lives of these three people are closely intertwined in ways none of them fully comprehend.

Murakami has an amazing style.  His attention to detail can sometimes put off a reader, but the devil is in the details, as they say, and I have a clear and full picture of these characters and their habits.  He also uses frequent references to music and literature.  My recent review of In Praise of Shadows by Tanizaki stemmed from this novel.  I have two other intriguing books on my shelf, which I hope will enlighten me as much as Shadows did.

Murakami’s 1Q84 is long, but it as an amazing story.  I was never bored, never had a moment of hesitation in turning to the next page.  I have admired this author for a long time, and any serious reader who enjoys a complicated story and the patience to make it all the way thorough the novel will agree.  5 stars

--Chiron, 8/7/14

In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichiro Tanizaki

One of my real joys about reading fiction involves a literary novel sprinkled with art, music, or literary allusions, which usually help round out a character.  These novels tend to the inhabit the category of intellectually challenging.  One writer who constantly challenges, amuses and intrigues me is Muraki Harikami.  Of the three of his novels I have read, all have music and art as a background.  His literary allusions – of Japanese and Western literature – always intrigue.  As I near the end of his latest novel, I have already ordered three books, which play an important role in the story.  Most often, these obscure books come as a complete surprise.  In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichiro Tanizaki really surprised me.

Tanizaki was born July 24, 1886 and he died July 30 1965) was aJapanese author, one of the major writers of modern Japanese Literature, and perhaps the most popular Japanese novelist after Natsume Soseki, who happens to be my favorite Japanese author.  Some of Tanizaki’s works present a rather shocking world of sexuality and destructive erotic obsessions, while others, are less sensational and subtly portray the dynamics of family life in the context of the rapid changes in 20th-century Japanese society. His stories frequently narrate a search for cultural identity in which constructions of "the West" and "Japanese tradition" are juxtaposed.

This essay on aesthetices was originally published in 1933, and the English translation came out in 1977 by Leete's Island Books.  The translation contains a forward by architect and educator Charles Moore and an afterword by one of the translators, Thomas J. Harper.  Harper was a Senior Lecturer in Japanese Literature at the Australian national University in Canberra.  The other translator, Edward Seidensticker, was Professor of Japanese Literature at Columbia University.  Much shorter than the author's novels, this book is a meditative work, which tells the story of Tanizaki building his dream home.  He freely admits the house cost more than he could afford.

Tanizaki writes, “What incredible pains the fancier of traditional architecture must take when he sets out to build a house in pure Japanese style, striving somehow to make electric wires, gas pipes, and water lines harmonize with the austerity of Japanese rooms – even someone who has never built a house for himself must sense this when he visits a teahouse, a restaurant, or an inn.  For the solitary eccentric, it is another matter.  He can ignore the blessings od scientific civilization and retreat to some forsaken corner of the countryside, but a man who has a family and lives in the city cannot turn his back on the necessities of modern life – heating, electric lights, sanitary facilities – merely for the sake of doing things the Japanese way.  The purist may wrack his brain over the placement of a single telephone, hiding it behind the staircase or in a corner of the hallway, wherever he thinks it will least offend the eye” (1).

As a person who lives in a home decorated in the style of post-modern clutter – that is, everything in the place where it fits – I would have the opposite trouble: finding more wall space, more book shelves, and less empty spaces.

I now have a window on the character in the novel, whose meticulous attention to order seemed odd to me.  In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichiro Tanizaki is a pleasant read with a cup of tea one fine afternoon.  5 stars

--Chiron, 7/30/14

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murikami

The timing – and indeed the reading of this novel – has an unusual genesis: a specific request for a birthday present from a close friend. The present takes the form of a blog entry on Rabbit Reader and the October 4th segment of “Likely Stories,” my twice-monthly radio show on the local NPR affiliate, KWBU-FM 103.3 in central Texas. Happy birthday, P.! I hope you enjoy my review.

This might be the hardest review I have ever written. I have read Joyce’s Ulysses, and Proust – of which I have only read a few fragments -- and Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. These great works share some things in common: complex plots, a large cast of characters, enough symbolism to make one’s head spin, and a plot which defies simple explanation. Muraki Hurakami’s The Wind-up Bird Chronicle definitely belongs in the company of these stunning novels.

I first encountered Murakami when I heard of a new novel, Kafka on the Shore. I bought it simply because of the intriguing title. I loved the book, and went in search of something else by the Japanese author. I quickly found the Chronicle, but because it was over 600 pages, I put it aside. Then the request for the birthday present arrived.

Haruki Murakami was born in Kyoto, Japan in 1949. He attended Waseda University as a theater arts major. He runs marathons, and reportedly has a collection of over 40,000 jazz recordings. In 1974, he opened a Jazz bar, which he named “Peter Cat.” He published his first novel, Hear the Wind, in 1979, and he won a major Japanese literary award for it. In 1992, he was named an Associate Professor at Princeton University. In 1996, he published Chronicle and won another major Japanese Literary prize.

Normally, my habit in these reviews is to place a quote or two to give a flavor of the novel. However, I have so many passages underlined, bracketed, and starred, I would have difficulty choosing one. Furthermore, those I might choose would require so much background information, I would spoil the plot, while making the review impossibly long. Suffice it to say Murakami’s prose sparkles with amazing and hypnotizing detail. A reader cannot help but be drawn into the story, as if descending into a deep, dark well, with no light and only inner thoughts for company. Readers of the novel will understand this reference – like many others – repeated in various forms throughout the story.

Now, I always tell my students that reading and writing should raise questions in the reader’s and the writer’s mind. So rather than only a cursory trace of the plot, I will also share some of my questions.

The core plot set in Japan is simple. Toru and Kumiko meet and decide to marry. Her father does not like Toru, but agrees to the marriage on one condition: the couple must meet weekly with the mysterious Mr. Honda. Kumiko’s father will pay for the sessions. Mr. Honda proceeds to tell the couple strange and sometimes terrifying stories of his experiences in the Sino-Soviet war in Manchukou in the 1930s. This continues for about a year. Then, the couple’s cat, named Noburu Wataya, after Kumiko’s brother, disappears. Kumiko is heartbroken, and she insists Toru spends his days looking for the cat. Then, one day, Kumiko leaves for work, and completely disappears. Toru’s life then takes a surreal and, at times, bizarre turn. He meets a succession of strange characters, and the novel takes a sharp detour into the realm of magical realism.

Some of the questions which emerged as I read include: Why are all the products mentioned western? Why are all the long dreams of these characters described in vivid detail? Why is all the music the characters listen to exclusively western classical pieces? Who are all these strange surreal people who pop in and out of Toru’s life? What really happened to Kumiko? What boundary lines divide reality from dreams? Dreams from hallucinations? Hallucinations from reality? I could go on, but I do not want to discourage anyone from reading this great work.

Haruki Murakami is a genius, and The Wind-up Bird Chronicle is one of the great pieces of world literature. I classify it as a must read for all devotees of serious fiction. 5 stars.

--Chiron, 9/29/12