Life Could be a Dream: Every Haruki Murakami book I've read (that would be Wild Sheep Chase, Dance, Dance, Dance, Hard-Boiled Wonderland, and Wind-Up Bird Chronicle) is set in a universe that has the same disjointed, quasi-rationality of a dream. Things seem to be going along normally then an animal talks to you, or it rains seafood, or you have sex with a ghost. And just like in dream, there is no mystical narration to clue you in that you are not in the midst of reality; surreal events occur and are described with the same matter-of-fact observational voice that might describe a morning shave or a traffic jam. It has been said that one of Ernest Hemmingway's great talents was to use simple, direct narration to plumb the complexities of human emotions. Similarly, Murakami nails many forms of unreality, from fairy tale playfulness to the downright creepy and harrowing, with little more than very pedestrian language. Kafka on the Shore is more of this. An extended exploration of memory, regret, and how we are all driven to change by our past, the story fits well with Murakami's style.
All the characters in Kafka are haunted by their past. They are trying to progress in their lives and their pursuits of happiness while their past exerts its pull against them. That pull can be completely debilitating, alleviated only by death; it can be energizing through the compulsion to escape; it can just sit there hovering, forever influencing deeds and words.
There are two major plotlines. One involves a 15-year-old runaway boy trying to escape from his egomaniacal father who has cursed him with an Oedipal fate regarding his erstwhile mother and sister. He ends up living in what is essentially a haunted library eventually fulfilling that fate...in a certain way. The other involves a brain-impaired, illiterate septuagenarian who can speak with cats and has a certain holy, Zen master way about him -- kind of like Peter Sellers in Being There. The old man finds himself compelled to pursue a fate he is to feeble-minded to understand, he just knows it when it comes. These two characters are mystically linked in a specific violent action that propels them both towards their ultimate destiny. Events cascade to an inevitably disappointing ending. How do you end a dream without waking up and finding plain old reality there waiting for you?
Leaving aside the deeper end of things, the book is a joy to read just on cursory level. The scenes bristle with energy and Murakami creates throwaway characters that are more interesting than many a writer's protagonists. A school teacher who is disturbed by an X-files-worthy occurrence is merely ancillary character but utterly affecting. A simple, blue-collar truck driver has only a supporting role but his transforming epiphany of the beauty and potential of the world (when he is exposed to Beethoven's Archduke Trio) is brilliantly told.
Along with sorrow and violence, there is much good humor and a bit of outright absurdity. Johnnie Walker (yeah, the guy from the Scotch ads) makes an appearance as a mutilator of cats. Colonel Sanders turns out to be a pimp for a Hegel quoting hooker. Typical of Murakami, pop culture references are laced throughout.
To me, one of the most curious things about Murakami is that I like reading him so much. He does not really employ many of the stylistic features I tend to value -- clarity of narrative, respect for normalcy, descriptive brevity, a contrarian mindset -- but his mastery of impression, thematic (if not narrative) clarity, and characterization is a thing to behold.
The fact that he has a back catalogue that I haven't fully explored makes me quite happy.
