Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

People soon forgot that until the accident he'd always gotten straight As. But now the school activities and events took place without him. He didn't make any friends. None of this bothered him, though. Being left alone meant he could be lost in his own little world. What absorbed him the most at school was taking care of the rabbits and goats they raised there, tending the flower beds outside and cleaning the classrooms. A constant smile on his face, he never tired of these chores.

He was essentially forgotten about at home, too. Once they learned that their eldest son couldn't read anymore or follow along with his lessons, Nakata's parents-totally focused on their children's education-ignored him and turned their attention to his younger brothers. It was impossible for Nakata to go on to public junior high, so once he graduated from elementary school he was sent to live with relatives in Nagano Prefecture, in his mother's hometown. There he attended agriculture school. Since he still couldn't read he had a hard time with his schoolwork, but he loved working in the fields. He might even have become a farmer, if his classmates hadn't tormented him so much. They enjoyed beating up this outsider, this city kid, so much. His injuries became so severe (one cauliflower ear included) that his grandparents pulled him out of school and kept him at home to help out around the house. Nakata was a quiet, obedient child, and his grandparents loved him very much.

It was about this time that he discovered he could speak with cats. His grandparents had a few cats around the house, and Nakata became good friends with them. At first he was able to speak only a few words, but he knuckled down like he was trying to master a foreign language and before long was able to carry on extended conversations. Whenever he was free he liked to sit on the porch and talk with the cats. For their part, the cats taught him a lot about nature and the world around him. Actually almost all the basic knowledge he had about the world and how it worked he learned from his feline friends.

At fifteen he was sent to a nearby furniture company to learn woodworking. It was less a factory than a small woodworking shop making folkcraft-type furniture. Chairs, tables, and chests made there were shipped to Tokyo. Nakata grew to love woodworking. His boss took a great liking to him, for he was skilled with his hands, never skipped any small details, didn't talk much, and never, ever complained. Reading a blueprint and adding figures weren't his forte, but aside from these tasks he did well at everything he set his hand to. Once he got the manufacturing steps in his mind he could repeat them endlessly, tirelessly. After a two-year apprenticeship he was given full-time employment.

Nakata worked there until he was past fifty, never once having an accident or calling in sick. He didn't drink or smoke, didn't stay up late or overeat. He never watched TV, and listened to the radio only for the morning exercise program. Day after day he just made furniture. His grandparents eventually passed away, as did his parents. Everybody liked him, though he didn't make any close friends. Perhaps that was only to be expected. When most people tried talking to Nakata, ten minutes was all it took for them to run out of things to say.

Still, he never felt lonely or unhappy. He never felt sexual desire, or even wanted to be with anyone. He understood he was different from other people. Though no one else noticed this, he thought his shadow on the ground was paler, lighter, than that of other people. The only ones who really understood him were the cats. On days off he'd sit on a park bench and spend the whole day chatting with them. Strangely enough, with cats he never ran out of things to talk about.

The owner of the furniture company passed away when Nakata was fifty-two, and the woodworking shop was closed soon afterward. That kind of gloomy, dark, traditional furniture didn't sell as well as it used to. The craftsmen were all getting on in years, and no young people were interested in learning the trade. The shop itself, originally in the middle of a field, was now surrounded by newly built homes, and complaints started to come in about both the noise and the smoke when they burned wood shavings. The owner's son, who worked in town for an accounting firm, had no interest in taking over the business, so as soon as his father passed away he sold the property to a real estate developer. For his part, the developer tore down the shop, had the land graded, and sold it to an apartment complex developer, who constructed a six-story condominium on the property. Every single apartment in the condo sold out on the first day they were put on sale.

That's how Nakata lost his job. The company had some outstanding loans to pay off, so he received only a pittance as retirement pay. Afterward he couldn't find another job. Who was going to hire an illiterate man in his fifties whose only skill was crafting antique furniture nobody wanted anymore?

Nakata had worked steadily for thirty-seven years at the plant without taking a single day of leave, so he did have a fair amount of money in his savings account at the local post office. He generally spent very little on himself, so even without finding another job he should have been able to have a comfortable old age on his savings. Since he couldn't read or write, a cousin of his who worked at city hall managed his account for him. Though kind enough, this cousin wasn't so quick on the uptake and was tricked into investing in a condominium at a ski resort by an unscrupulous real estate broker and ended up deeply in debt. Around the same time that Nakata lost his job, this cousin disappeared with his entire family to escape his creditors. Some yakuza-type loan sharks were after him, apparently. Nobody knew where this family was, or even if they were still alive.

When Nakata had an acquaintance go with him to the post office to check on the balance in his account, he found out that only a few hundred dollars were left. His retirement pay, which had been deposited directly into the account, had also vanished. One could only say that Nakata was extremely unlucky-losing his job and finding himself penniless. His relatives were sympathetic, but they'd been asked to put up collateral and likewise lost everything they'd invested with the cousin. So none of them had the resources to help Nakata in his time of need.

In the end the older of Nakata's two younger brothers in Tokyo decided to look after him for the time being. He owned a small apartment building in Nakano that catered to single men-this was part of his inheritance from his parents-and he offered one of the units to his older brother. He also looked after the money his parents had willed to Nakata-not a great amount-and arranged for him to receive a subsidy for the mentally challenged from the Tokyo Metropolitan Government. That was the extent of the brother's "care." Despite his illiteracy, Nakata was able to take care of his daily needs by himself, and as long as his rent was covered he was able to manage.

His two brothers had very little contact with him. They saw him a few times when he first moved back to Tokyo, but that was it. They had lived apart for over thirty years, and their lifestyles were too different. Neither brother had any particular feelings toward him, and in any case they were too busy with their own careers to take care of a retarded sibling.

But this cold treatment by his relatives didn't faze Nakata. He was used to being alone and actually tensed up if people went out of their way to be nice to him. He wasn't angry, either, that his cousin had squandered his life savings. Naturally he understood it was too bad it happened, but he wasn't disappointed by the whole affair. Nakata had no idea what a resort condo was, or what "investing" meant, nor did he understand what taking out a "loan" involved. He lived in a world circumscribed by a very limited vocabulary.