Haruki Murakami

Maagiline lammas, jumala telefoninumber ja vastupandamatult erootilised kõrvad
Pärast “Kafka mererannas” vapustavalt positiivset lugemiskogemust eelmisel aastal olen silmad Murakami muude asjade suhtes lahti hoidnud. Järgmisena sattus mulle ette “Wild Sheep Chase”. Ja tõesti – kui eesti keeles ilmunud “Norra metsa” ja “Kafka” puhul on pidevalt rõhutatud, kui erinevad need raamatud on, siis WSC läheb minu jaoks vähemalt “Kafkaga” samasse klassi – see müstiline, show more voolav, kummalisi tegelasi ja süžeepöördeid täis teos on jäägitult köitev. Erinevalt kahest eelmisest eesti keeles loetud teosest tajusin ma selles ka esmakordselt tempo erinevust – lugu voolab kohati väga aeglaselt, on paljude kurvide ja käändudega. Kuid see ei muuda lugemist sugugi igavaks, lausa vastupidi, sest sügavate tumedate võrendike pinna all varitsevad kummalised olendid/märgid, kellest päris mitme olulisust loo jaoks pole võimalik näha enne, kui oled lõppu jõudnud.
WSC lõpetab Murakami nn Roti-triloogia (esimene “Hear the Wind Sing”, teine “Pinball”, mõlemad 1973) ja seda peetakse tema nn läbimurdeteoseks. Pole ka raske mõista, miks. WSC-d võiks teatud mööndustega pidada korraga nii road-novel’iks, krimkaks, fantaasiateoseks kui filosoofiliseks mõtiskluseks pärastsõjaaegse Jaapani ühiskonna üle. Aga hoolimata sellest, et tegemist on väga mitmekihilise allegooriaga, on lugu tegelikult väga lihtne – see on lugu mehest, kes on üdini keskpärane ja kes triivib sihitult läbi elu. Kõik muutub, kui ta avaldab ühes reklaambrošüüris illustratsioonina Roti-nimelise sõbra poolt saadetud suvalise foto mäenõlval söövast lambakarjast. Järgnevas sunnitud retkes läbi Jaapani (kadunud sõbra ja üheainsa väga konkreetse müstilise lamba otsingul) põimib Murakami täiesti geniaalselt kokku kõige igavama igapäevase elu, Jaapani ajaloo, ülikummalised inimesed ja müstilised olendid ning juhtimised, mis ometi klapivad omavahel vähimagi ebakõlata – on võimatu mõelda, et lugu võiks toimida kuidagi teisti. Raamat moodustab võimatu terviku, mis on ometi ainuvõimalik. Ja nagu juba öeldud – viimased killud langevad paika alles päris viimastes peatükkides.
Kirsiks koogi peal on muidugi Murakami kirjutamisstiil ja suutlikkus anda edasi meeleolusid, kirjeldada paiku ja eelkõige nende õhkkonda, anda edasi seda tabamatut miskit, mis teeb paikadest selle, mis need on. Elavaks ja isikupäraseks on raamatus saanud isegi pimedus ja vaikus, tuulest ja maast rääkimata. show less

Kafka Tamura is a fifteen-year-old boy who has run away from his Tokyo home to flee his emotionally abusive father. Having been abandoned by his mother and older sister when he was a small boy, Kafka sets off on an ill-defined and poorly planned quest to recapture the family life he never really had and to escape the modified Oedipal curse his father has placed on him (i.e., Kafka is destined to kill his father and sleep with both his mother and his sister). Satoru Nakata is an elderly man show more also in search of something he does not fully understand. After an unexplained illness suffered in childhood leaves him intellectually impaired and with no memories—but with the ability to speak to cats—Nakata has spent his life as a ward of the state, but now senses that he is destined for another purpose. After a violent event causes him to leave Tokyo as well, Nakata’s journey takes him to the same town in the south of Japan where Kafka is now hiding from the law. How—and why—will the paths of these two men intersect?

In Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami has created this inventive coming-of-age tale, which is at once intellectually challenging and fully engaging at every turn of its serpentine plot. The main challenge for the reader is that the story is told in a magical realism style where myriad bizarre things occur: memories and dreams become real, fish rain down from the sky, evil spirits take the form of famous corporate symbols (e.g., Johnnie Walker, Colonel Sanders), soldiers from World War II wander a lost forest for sixty years without aging, ghosts of still-living characters appear randomly. However, this all makes sense in the end as the major conflicts are resolved in an emotionally fulfilling manner. The narrative is greatly enhanced by an interesting stylistic choice in which the main characters’ stories are developed in alternating chapters—Kafka’s written in the first-person present, Nakata’s in the third-person past—which allows them to eventually converge smoothly from very different starting points and perspectives.

I really enjoyed reading this novel, as I have everything I have come across from this remarkable author. Murakami is an imaginative and truly gifted storyteller and the facile way in which he integrates such fantastical elements into the mix is quite impressive. Magical realism is a difficult style to pull off convincingly but, like other modern masters of that tricky genre (e.g., Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Salman Rushdie), he does so here skillfully. I also admire the clear love and compassion that Murakami has for his characters, who are fully realized creations that the reader comes to care about quite a lot. Impressively, that care is evident not only in how the main characters were created, but in the development of the impressive and memorable supporting cast as well, including Miss Saeki, Oshima, Sakura, Hoshino, and a host of cats, all of whom play pivotal roles in how the narrative unfolds. This was a captivating and extremely satisfying book to read and the story is not one that I will soon forget. show less

Toru Okada is searching for a lot of things. As the hapless protagonist of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Haruki Murakami’s sprawling and often magnificent mess of a novel, the unemployed Toru must first find his missing cat—which his wife Kumiko regards as a symbol of the their gradually failing marriage—and then Kumiko herself, who disappears one morning without warning. Along the way, Toru’s quest introduces him to a variety of unusual characters—a wise-beyond-her-years teenage show more neighbor, two sisters with apparent psychic abilities, a retired war veteran with a dark history, the creepy assistant of his evil brother-in-law, a mother and son team with unusual tastes and talents—and bizarre situations, including a considerable amount of time spent at the bottom of a deep, dark, dry well where his dreams become indistinguishable from his reality. What Toru must endure and discover about himself in the effort to find Kumiko and reestablish their previous life constitutes the ostensible plot of the book.

I say “ostensible” because I actually find it difficult to summarize this novel in a tidy fashion. It certainly is about Toru’s search for Kumiko, but it is also about so much more. Most notably, the story involves the search for identity and purpose, how personal histories are tied to those of entire countries, and how those individuals (and countries) must cope with pain and reconcile the horrors of the past. The story-telling is frequently brilliant and always engaging, even if it is highly non-linear and a little disjoint at times. Murakami appears to have pulled out all of the literary stops in crafting this novel; it is replete with allusions, symbols (such as the well and the wind-up bird of the title, for instance), magical realism elements, multiple plot lines told in myriad styles, and characters who disappear and reappear at will. He has also provided the reader with an ending that is mildly disappointing in that it does not bring all of threads of the story to a full conclusion. Still, I really enjoyed the several days I spent immersed in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. The author’s gift for crafting an imaginative tale with fully developed characters that the reader comes to care deeply about is remarkable and easily overcomes any shortcomings the rest of the book might have. show less

This is an amazing work of magical realism. Peppered with profound passages, deftly weaving humor, irony, and musings on the universalities of the human experience, it is the story of two people, 15-year-old Kafka Tamura and the elderly and illiterate Nakata, whose paths are inextricably drawn toward one another.... Talking cats, raining fish, Johnnie Walker and Colonel Sanders --- literary devices that *sound* just downright silly --- are used by the brilliant Murakami to move the story show more along and provoke the reader to suspend disbelief and *recognize* the role that metaphor, dreams, and fantasy play in any work of literature (not to mention philosophical musings about the meaning of time, memory, and life in general). Murakami's novel comments upon itself as it tells its story. Kafka and Nakata are both lovable characters and they are surrounded by intriguing lovable characters, but none of that is the point. What is the point? It would be hard for any one reader to say.... It's one of the most satisfyingly complex novels I have ever read and I'm keeping my copy for a future reread. show less