This was an accidental purchase, made hastily in a used bookstore because the price seemed right and because the spine only said "Murakami." After about two paragraphs, it began to seem very unlikely that Harukai Murakami was responsible for the flavorless, graceless and awkward prose. I checked the publishing date and thought, well, okay, it was an early effort . . . I'll give it a chance. After ten pages or so, I gave the book the sort of thorough exploration that would have prevented me from buying it and discovered that I wasn't reading something by an author who I respect and enjoy. But that's not Ryu's fault, so I read another 60 pages and I want my time back.

His characters are flat and predictable. He lacks the confidence to let his story-telling communicate subtleties and has a penchant for lame summary sentences that are designed to drive home his blatant and tedious moments of character definition. The dialogue is deplorable. I might have given the title characters some time; but as soon as the "Anemone" section started I began to consider not finishing this book. When the description of "Toxitown" was over, I was pretty sure I wouldn't make page 100 and when the murderous cab driver with his unrealistic monologue held forth, I put the book back into my bag and started reading something else that had seemed really slow to me before, which really triumphed in the contrast.

Avoid this unless you have never read experimental fiction before or unless you feel like "edginess" or shock value are acceptable substitutes for talent. ( )

This book is full of ‘what the…?’ moments that catch you totally off guard. But these moments do not come across as gimmicky. Murakami, the Ryu one, not the Haruki one, weaves a pretty dark, yet humorous Japanese landscape. Two babies are found locked in station coin lockers and grow up together; first in an orphanage, then on an island, then splitting ways, both terribly messed up.

The opening line was the most disturbing I’ve ever read in a book and the story took off full of gristle and bone. Unfortunately, Ryu lost focus around the middle of the book. His pace fell off, the texture turned from gritty and gristly to a bland, tasteless pudding. He did regain a little form in the end but by then it was too late.

Still an enjoyable read. Here's a passage before the book turned to pudding:

They went back to the hotel exhausted. In the elevator, the cleaning woman was wiping down the walls. Though quite elderly, her hair was dyed, and she wore dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick that filled the deep wrinkles around her mouth.

"Hot, isn’t it?" she said to Kazuyo.

"And terribly sticky, " answered Kazuyo pleasantly as the old woman spat in her mop bucket.

"Hey, by the way, you two find anything weird in you toilet?" she asked suddenly. "Those Filipino whores been throwing some pretty strange stuff down the johns. It’s a bitch having to clean them out. Rubbers you expect, but this is getting ridiculous."

The elevator had reached the fifth floor, but when Kazuyo and Kiku got off, the woman left her bucket and mop and followed them.

"Good night, then - we’re pretty tired, " said Kazuyo, trying to slip into the room, but she grabbed her arm.

"I’m finding these big wads of pubic hair - must be shaving down there. Clogs up the pipes and I have to clean it out by hand. But that’s not the worst of it. A while back I found eggs stopping up one toilet, and I don’t mean chicken eggs. It was frog eggs - these huge frog eggs. Well, I thought that was a bit peculiar, so I did some asking around and found out those Filipino girls keeps the frogs as sort of special pets, real special. Seems they like to stick them up inside themselves... feels good and squishy. But somebody’s got to clean up after them, and what kind of job is that - pulling frog eggs out of a toilet?... Goddamn Filipino hookers and theri goddamn frogs... I ask you!" Bursting into tears, the maid held tight to Kazuyo’s arm. Her mascara began to run and black canals formed along her wrinkles. ( )

wow. fascinating, engrossing, and totally psychotic. ( )

Coin Locker Babies by Ryu Murakami is a frenetic, disturbing coming of age story. It’s a compelling read, that keeps you interested despite the sometimes gruesome activities and descriptions. I stumbled on Coin Locker Babies while trying to figure out which Haruki Murakami novel I’d read next. Coin Locker Babies popped up after a search for Murakami and I became intrigued because it wasn’t a title with which I was familiar. Had I found a rare or new Haruki Murakami novel? No. I quickly found that there was another Murakami. Perhaps Murakami is to Japan what ‘Smith’ is to America.

I checked it out and Ryu Murakami’s bio was interesting enough that I decided to give Coin Locker Babies a try. The novel follows two orphans - Hashi and Kiku - both abandoned in a coin locker soon after being born. They befriend each other at an orphanage and wind up being adopted together by a childless couple on a small rural island. From here the novel begins to accelerate as we follow Kiku, a pole vaulter prone to violence and Hashi, a frail and musical sort who winds up an excessive rock star.

Read my full review at the Used Books Blog:
http://usedbooksblog.com/blog/coin-lo... ( )

I was rummaging around the spare classroom at my school in Japan one day when I found this modern classic of freak-o Japanese fiction. It's one of the strangest, most scintillating books I've ever read, and is very, very difficult to summarise.

In short, "Coin Locker Babies" are babies abandoned by their mother in subway or train station left-luggage lockers. If they cry loud enough and soon enough, chances are they'll be found and taken to the orphanage for care. The book follows two such babies, but there's much much more that goes on than what you'd think. This is like Dickens and Kafka with a smattering of William S. Burroughs or Philip K. Dick mixed in for good measure. Terrific; terrifying. ( )