Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

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Amazon.com
The opening pages of a Haruki Murakami novel can be like the view out an airplane window onto tarmac. But at some point between page three and fifteen-it's page thirteen in Kafka On The Shore-the deceptively placid narrative lifts off, and you find yourself breaking through clouds at a tilt, no longer certain where the plane is headed or if the laws of flight even apply.
Joining the rich literature of runaways, Kafka On The Shore follows the solitary, self-disciplined schoolboy Kafka Tamura as he hops a bus from Tokyo to the randomly chosen town of Takamatsu, reminding himself at each step that he has to be "the world¹s toughest fifteen-year-old." He finds a secluded private library in which to spend his days-continuing his impressive self-education-and is befriended by a clerk and the mysteriously remote head librarian, Miss Saeki, whom he fantasizes may be his long-lost mother. Meanwhile, in a second, wilder narrative spiral, an elderly Tokyo man named Nakata veers from his calm routine by murdering a stranger. An unforgettable character, beautifully delineated by Murakami, Nakata can speak with cats but cannot read or write, nor explain the forces drawing him toward Takamatsu and the other characters.
To say that the fantastic elements of Kafka On The Shore are complicated and never fully resolved is not to suggest that the novel fails. Although it may not live up to Murakami's masterful The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Nakata and Kafka's fates keep the reader enthralled to the final pages, and few will complain about the loose threads at the end.
From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. Previous books such as The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Norwegian Wood have established Murakami as a true original, a fearless writer possessed of a wildly uninhibited imagination and a legion of fiercely devoted fans. In this latest addition to the author's incomparable oeuvre, 15-year-old Kafka Tamura runs away from home, both to escape his father's oedipal prophecy and to find his long-lost mother and sister. As Kafka flees, so too does Nakata, an elderly simpleton whose quiet life has been upset by a gruesome murder. (A wonderfully endearing character, Nakata has never recovered from the effects of a mysterious World War II incident that left him unable to read or comprehend much, but did give him the power to speak with cats.) What follows is a kind of double odyssey, as Kafka and Nakata are drawn inexorably along their separate but somehow linked paths, groping to understand the roles fate has in store for them. Murakami likes to blur the boundary between the real and the surreal-we are treated to such oddities as fish raining from the sky; a forest-dwelling pair of Imperial Army soldiers who haven't aged since WWII; and a hilarious cameo by fried chicken king Colonel Sanders-but he also writes touchingly about love, loneliness and friendship. Occasionally, the writing drifts too far into metaphysical musings-mind-bending talk of parallel worlds, events occurring outside of time-and things swirl a bit at the end as the author tries, perhaps too hard, to make sense of things. But by this point, his readers, like his characters, will go just about anywhere Murakami wants them to, whether they "get" it or not.

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"I see," Nakata said.

"He told me the cat's just like the one in the photograph-a timid, pretty young tortoiseshell with a flea collar. Can't seem to speak that well, either. It's clear to anyone that it's a naive house cat that can't find its way back home."

"When was this, I wonder?"

"The last time he saw the cat seems to be three or four days ago. He's not very bright, so he's not even sure about days. But he did say it was the day after it rained, so I'm thinking it must have been Monday. I seem to recall it rained pretty hard on Sunday."

"Nakata doesn't know about the days of the week, but I think it did rain around then. He hasn't seen her since?"

"That was the last time. The other cats haven't seen her either, he says. He's a spacey, good-for-nothing cat, but I pressed him closely and believe most of what he says."

"I really want to thank you."

"No need-it was my pleasure. Most of the time I have only this worthless bunch of cats around here to talk to, and we never seem to agree on anything. I find it incredibly irritating. So it's a breath of fresh air to be able to talk with a sensible human such as yourself."

"I see," Nakata said. "There's one thing Nakata still doesn't understand. Mr. Kawamura kept going on about tuna, and I was wondering if he meant the fish?"

Mimi lithely lifted her left front leg, inspecting the pink flesh of the pad, and chuckled. "The youngster's terminology isn't very extensive, I'm afraid."

"Termanolgy?"

"The number of words he's familiar with is limited, is what I'm saying. So for him everything that's good to eat is tuna. For him tuna's the crème de la crème, as far as food goes. He doesn't know there are such things as sea bream, halibut, or yellowtail."

Nakata cleared his throat. "Actually, Nakata's very fond of tuna. Of course I like eel as well."

"I'm fond of eel myself. Though it's not the sort of thing you can eat all the time."

"That's true. You couldn't eat it all the time."

The two of them were silent for a time, eel musings filling the passing moments.

"Anyway, what that cat was getting at is this," Mimi said, as if suddenly remembering. "Not long after the neighborhood cats began hanging out at that vacant lot, a bad person showed up who catches cats. The other cats believe this man may have taken Goma away. The man lures them with something good to eat, then throws them inside a large sack. The man's quite skilled at catching cats, and a hungry, innocent cat like Goma would easily fall into his trap. Even the stray cats who live around here, normally a wary bunch, have lost a couple of their number to this man. It's simply hideous, because nothing could be worse for a cat than to be stuffed inside a bag."

"I see," Nakata said, and again rubbed his salt-and-pepper hair with his palm. "But what does this man do with the cats once he's caught them?"

"That I don't know. In the old days they used to make shamisens out of cat skin, but nowadays not too many people play the shamisen. And besides, I hear they mainly use plastic now. In some parts of the world people eat cats, though not in Japan, thank goodness. So I think we can exclude both of these as motives. Which leaves, let me see… people who use cats in scientific experiments. Cats are used a lot in experiments. One of my friends, in fact, was used in a psychology experiment at Tokyo University. A terrible thing, but it's a long story and I won't go into it now. There are also perverts-not many, mind you-who just enjoy tormenting cats. Catching a cat and chopping off its tail, for instance."

"What do they do after they chop it off?"

"Nothing. They just want to torment and hurt the cats. Makes them feel good for some reason. I'm afraid there are twisted people like that in the world."

Nakata gave this some thought. How could chopping off a cat's tail possibly be fun? "So what you're saying is that maybe this twisted person has taken Goma away?" he asked.

Mimi screwed up her long white whiskers and frowned. "I'd rather not think that, or even imagine it, but it is a possibility. Mr. Nakata, I haven't lived all that many years, but I've seen terrible things I never could have imagined. Most people look at cats and think what a life-all we do is lie around in the sun, never having to lift a finger. But cats' lives aren't that idyllic. Cats are powerless, weak little creatures that injure easily. We don't have shells like turtles, nor wings like birds. We can't burrow into the ground like moles or change colors like a chameleon. The world has no idea how many cats are injured every day, how many of us meet a miserable end. I happen to be lucky enough to live with the Tanabes in a warm and friendly family, the children treat me well, and I've got everything I need. But even my life isn't always easy. When it comes to strays, though, they have a very tough time of it."

"You're really smart, aren't you, Mimi?" Nakata said, impressed by the Siamese's eloquence.

"No, not really," Mimi replied, narrowing her eyes in embarrassment. "I just spend too much time lying in front of the TV and this is what happens-my head gets full of worthless facts. Do you ever watch TV, Mr. Nakata?"

"No, Nakata doesn't watch TV. The people on TV talk too fast, and I can't keep up with them. I'm dumb, so I can't read, and if you can't read TV doesn't make much sense. Sometimes I listen to the radio, but the words there are also too fast, and it tires me out. I much prefer doing this-enjoy talking with a cat outside, under the sky."

"Indeed," Mimi said.

"That's right," Nakata replied.

"I really hope that Goma is all right."

"Mimi, Nakata's going to have a look at that empty lot."

"According to the youngster, this man is very tall, and wears a strange tall hat and long leather boots. And he walks fast. He looks very unusual, so you'll recognize him right away, he told me. Whenever the cats that gather at the empty lot see him coming, they scatter in all directions. But a newcomer might not know enough to…"

Nakata stored this information away in his head, carefully folding it all away in a front drawer so he wouldn't forget it. The man is very tall, and wears a strange tall hat and long leather boots…

"I hope I've been of help," Mimi said.

"Nakata appreciates everything you've done. If you hadn't been kind enough to speak up I'd still be going round and round about tuna. I'm grateful."

"What I think," Mimi said, gazing up at Nakata with knit brows, "is that that man is trouble. A lot of trouble. He's more dangerous than you can ever imagine. If it were me I'd never go near that lot. But you're a human, and it's your job, after all, but I hope you'll take every precaution."

"Thank you very kindly. I'll be as careful as I can."

"Mr. Nakata, this world is a terribly violent place. And nobody can escape the violence. Please keep that in mind. You can't be too cautious. The same holds true for cats and human beings."

"I'll remember that," Nakata replied.

But he had no idea where and how the world could be violent. The world was full of things Nakata couldn't comprehend, and most things connected with violence fell into that category.

After saying good-bye to Mimi, he went to see the empty lot, which turned out to be about the size of a small playground. A tall plywood fence enclosed the lot, with a sign on it saying KEEP OUT: SITE OF FUTURE CONSTRUCTION (which Nakata, naturally, couldn't read). A heavy chain blocked the entrance, but around back was a gap in the fence, and he easily got inside. Someone must have pried it open.

All the warehouses that had originally stood there had been torn down, but the land hadn't been graded for construction and was covered with grass. Goldenrod grew as high as a child, a couple of butterflies flickering above it. Mounds of earth had hardened in the rain, in some places rising up in little hillocks. A perfect place for cats. People wouldn't come in, and there were all sorts of little creatures to catch and plenty of places to hide.

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