'The Strange Library' by Haruki Murakami (Review)

I thought that I had my January in Japan reading fairly well regulated this year, a mixture of library choices, review copies and shelf dwellers, some modern, some classic and some plain old.  However, when you get a text from the library, informing you that a book you weren't expecting to arrive for some months is waiting for you at the local branch, well, there's nothing for it but to make a gap in your schedule and cram one more book into the month.

So, have I saved the best for last, or will JiJ end on a sour note?  Let's take a trip to the library and find out...

*****
The Strange Library (translated by Ted Goossen) is the latest Haruki Murakami work to arrive in English, coming a matter of months after the (fairly) triumphant appearance of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage.  It's a little different to most of what we've seen before, a children's story accompanied by a range of illustrations (mostly sourced from old library books), but the style is unmistakeably Murakami, and we even get to run into an old friend :)

It all begins when a young boy goes into his local library, hoping to drop a few books off and pick up some more.  He is told to go down to the basement, where a stern old man informs him that his chosen books can't be taken out and must be read in the library.  The boy (an obedient child) follows the man down some more stairs towards the reading room - too late does he realise that he's actually being locked in a prison cell...

Anyone hoping for another full-scale novel will be disappointed by The Strange Library, but (hopefully) most people will have been aware of what was coming and will enjoy it for what it is.  Murakami has written several of these illustrated stories, with many already appearing in various European languages (I read a fan-translation of one, The Sheep Man's Christmas, a couple of years back), but this is the first time that any have made it into English publication.  While it smacks a little of profiteering to publish a book aimed at adults which takes about twenty minutes to read, I suspect that even for this morsel the rights weren't all that cheap ;)

The story itself is entertaining, and rather tongue in cheek too.  The boy is a frustratingly passive figure, walking happily into disaster just because people are telling him too (I'm sure there's a moral in there somewhere...), and Murakami pokes fun at him along the way.  The books he returns to the library (How to Build a Submarine and Memoirs of a Shepherd) are typical Murakami jokes, and I can't really imagine a real-life schoolboy musing about tax collection in the Ottoman Empire...

And speaking of shepherds, The Strange Library sees a welcome appearance by a rather familiar figure:

"Finally, we reached the bottom of the staircase.  I could see a glimmer farther in, just a feeble glow, really, but still strong enough to make my eyes hurt after the long darkness.  Someone approached me from the back of the room and took my hand.  A small man clad in the skin of a sheep."
pp.17/8 (Harvill Secker, 2014)

Yes, the sheep man is back (I believe he's a frequent flier in Murakami's children's stories), and while he doesn't have the sinister air, or idiosyncratic speech patterns, of the character encountered in A Wild Sheep Chase, it's definitely the same guide through the bizarre parallel Murakamian underworld.

There's a need for this familiar face, though, as the book can get a little dark at times.  The gruff man is a fairly frightening, if cartoonish, protagonist, with a terrible secret kept in the labyrinth beneath the library.  The sheep man, a reluctant accomplice, fills the boy in on the true nature of libraries:

     "But, hey, this kind of thing's going on in libraries everywhere, you know.  More or less, that is."
     This news staggered me.  "In libraries everywhere?" I stammered.
     "If all they did was lend out knowledge for free, what would the payoff be for them?" (p.26)

And there you were thinking that librarians were benevolent forces for good, educating you all out of the kindness of their hearts.  I'll leave you to read the book and find out just exactly what their ulterior motive is...

Despite the mortal peril the boy finds himself in, though, this is a Murakami book, and there's always time to relax.  While you and I would be in a panic over the impending danger, the boy is able to get sidetracked by the strangest of topics, whether it's the book on Ottoman tax collector Ibn Armut Hasir or the doughnuts he's been brought to eat:

     "This is the best doughnut I've ever eaten," I said.
     "I just finished frying them up," said the sheep man.  "I make them from scratch, you know."
     "I bet if you opened a doughnut shop, it'd be a big hit.
     "Yeah, I've thought about that myself.  How great that'd be."
     "I know you could do it." (p.40)

Wait a minute - impending doom, danger?  Talk about Stockholm Syndrome...

The Strange Library may just be a short story for kids, but it's immensely entertaining, and I'd love to read more of the same.  It's a book which uses a fairy-tale structure to pay homage to libraries and praise the ability of books to allow us to escape our humdrum lives.  Goossen's translation beautifully captures the ludicrous, yet straight-faced style, a fact which bodes well for his retranslations of Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973, coming later this year.

As sweet as The Strange Library is, it wouldn't be a Murakami book without a poignant twist, and on this front it certainly delivers.  Just when you think that you're on top of what the book is trying to do, you discover that there's a subtle undertone, one which only becomes apparent in the last few lines.  It may not be the best book I've tried for January in Japan this time around, but it's certainly a fitting book to round the event off - I highly recommend that you go and get a copy from your library.

Just promise me, whatever you do - don't go down to the basement...

'Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage' by Haruki Murakami (Review)

After almost six years of blogging, I'm fairly used to getting books in the post, but I was still rather excited when an unexpected parcel arrived a few weeks back with a big embargo sticker on it  (it actually arrived half an hour after the embargo had been lifted, but still...).  Inside was the beautiful book you see in the photo, and I was sorely tempted to fling everything to one side and get straight into it.

However, a new Haruki Murakami book is always a big event around these parts, and I (just about) managed to restrain myself and finish the book I was on.  Then it was time to get started: one quick read, a two-week gap, then a leisurely reread before scribbling my random thoughts down in a semi-coherent fashion - and here's what I thought about it...

*****
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage (translated by Philip Gabriel, review copy courtesy of Random House Australia) is the story of thirty-six-year-old train station designer Tsukuru Tazaki, a native of Nagoya who moved to Tokyo for study and work and has stayed there ever since.  At the start of the novel, he has recently begun a tentative relationship with the beautiful Sara Kimoto, one he's hoping will grow into something stronger.  He's rich, good looking and successful in his job, so you'd expect him to be happy - sadly, that's not the case.

His problems go back to his younger days, when Tsukuru was part of a group of five inseparable high-school kids, each of whom (with the exception of Tsukuru) had a name which contained a colour.  Suddenly, without warning, the other four cut him adrift, and this rejection by his friends sent him spiralling into depression:

"All around him, for as far as he could see, lay a rough land strewn with rocks, with not a drop of water, nor a blade of grass.  Colorless, with no light to speak of.  No sun, no moon or stars.  No sense of direction, either.  At a set time, a mysterious twilight and a bottomless darkness merely exchanged places.  A remote border on the edges of consciousness."
p.33 (Harvill Secker, 2014)

The following months are a time of great suffering, and while Tsukuru eventually manages to pull himself out of the abyss, the events of the time have left a deep impression on his life.

Despite the importance of the relationship with his friends he never dared to ask why they cut him off, but sixteen years later, at Sara's prompting, Tsukuru Tazaki decides that it's time to confront the past.  Why was he ostracised by his closest friends for reasons he can't even begin to understand?  And, more importantly, why can't he move on with his life?

***** 
Early reviews of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki... have been positive, and I'm not going to argue - while I liked 1Q84 more than most, this still feels like a return to form.  It's the story of a man nostalgic for his carefree youth, desperately missing something he once had, but can never reclaim:

"But you can't go back now?  To that orderly, harmonious, intimate place?"
 He thought about this, though there was no need to.  "That place doesn't exist anymore," he said quietly.
It was in the summer of his sophomore year in college when that place vanished forever." (p.23)

It's one of the more 'normal' Murakami books, but there are still plenty of the slightly off-kilter elements the reader would expect from his writing.  We're treated to dreams, strange characters, fascinating and secretive women, stories within stories and, of course, an unresolved ending.

When the title first became known in English, many people thought that it might be changed for the translation (it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue...).  However, it's actually an important reflection of the content and themes of the novel, giving several clues as to what lies ahead.  Quite apart from the colour aspect, there's the significance of the name 'Tsukuru' (the Japanese verb for 'make' or 'construct'), an apt name for a man destined to go out into the world to build train stations.  The name was chosen, after considerable deliberation, by Tsukuru's father, and it's hard to avoid thinking that rather than Tsukuru choosing his path in life, his name - colourless as it is - decided that path for him.

The second part of the title is just as important, as the years of pilgrimage that it refers to are not just those Tsukuru spends searching for the truth. Liszt's set of piano suites, Années de pèlerinage (which, in turn, takes its title from Goethe's novel Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre), features heavily in the novel, and one haunting piece, 'Le mal du pays', acts as a kind of leitmotif, recurring throughout the book.   Shiro ('white'), one of Tsukuru's group of friends, played the piece constantly, and a later friend Haida (whose name contains the character for 'grey'...) leaves the record of the suites at Tsukuru's apartment.  If Lazar Berman's interpretation of Liszt's work goes rocketing up the classical music charts, you'll know why...

The two-part title is also reminiscent, though, of Murakami's own Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and while the earlier book seems rather different, there are several similarities.  Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki... also has a double strand, with the two lives happening to two very different people (Murakami emphasises this by having the trauma of the rejection by his friends alter Tsukuru physically, in terms of both his face and his body).  There's also the small matter of dreams and the subconscious, always a feature of Murakami's work, and despite the 'real' nature of this novel, there's always a sense that some things can't quite be explained, that Tsukuru's dreams (sexual or otherwise) threaten to bleed into the real world.  As Kuro ('black') comments:

"But I do think that sometimes, a certain kind of dream can be even stronger than reality..." (p.238)

If you add to that the ambiguous ending and the feeling that Tsukuru is racing against time to save his relationship with Sara, the comparison between the books doesn't seem quite so absurd ;)

***** 
While in one sense the idea of colours is a bit of a red (!) herring (it's got nothing to do with why he was rejected by his friends), it does play an important role throughout the novel.  Part of Tsukuru's problem is that deep down he really does believe that he is colourless:

"There must be something in him, something fundamental that disenchanted people.  'Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki,' he said aloud.  I basically have nothing to offer to others.  If you think about it, I don't even have anything to offer myself." (pp.100/1)

At the beginning, the reader is fooled into seeing things the way Tsukuru does, but once we meet his former friends, we begin to realise that Tsukuru has a lot going for himself.  His friends emphasise his good looks, his likeable nature, the way he acted as a glue to hold the group together - he just can't see it himself.  This is as true in real life as it is in the novel; it's all too easy to think of others as 'colourful' and much brighter than ourselves...

A further metaphor for this idea is offered by Midorikawa ('green river'...) a wandering pianist who appears in a story Haida tells Tsukuru about his father.  The man claims to be able to see people's auras, a window into their character, and later in the novel Tsukuru begins to wonder whether Haida was actually telling him about his own aura.  We could also consider Tsukuru's dreams in which black and white suddenly turn grey - but I think I'll leave that one for someone more qualified to examine ;)

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki... is primarily a voyage of discovery for the title figure, but in many ways it's the character of Sara which is the most intriguing.  Many will see her as a simple catalyst, another of Murakami's stock female creations, but I'm not sure she can be dismissed quite so easily.  She seems far too eager to get involved in unravelling the secrets of Tsukuru's past for someone who isn't really in a proper relationship with him yet, and I was a little confused when Kuro mentioned having heard about her (a brand-new semi-girlfriend), despite not having talked to Tsukuru in sixteen years...

Were I to go out on a limb, I'd be tempted to say that the whole thing is actually in his head (the relationship, not the whole story - although...).  Perhaps the whole search for closure comes about because Tsukuru wants to get closer to Sara and realises that he's not going to get anywhere until he resolves his issues.  This would also explain what he saw when sitting in a café before flying off to meet Kuro.  Or, then again, perhaps I'm just making this all up, and the whole thing's in *my* head (that's the trouble with Murakami - you really can read whatever you want into his stories a lot of the time...).

*****
While I saw many ties to Hard-Boiled Wonderland..., most will compare Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki... to Norwegian Wood.  Stylistically, the two books are fairly similar, and both are about a thirty-something man looking back at a pivotal year of his life.  The difference is that where Toru Watanabe is focused on the then, Tsukuru Tazaki is functioning in the now.  There are also parallels between the women in the books, with the dark and light of Shiro and Kuro complementing the earlier couple of Naoko and Midori - whose name means 'green' (my head is starting to hurt).

Recently, at the Edinburgh Festival, Murakami said that he wasn't overly keen on the third-person point of view as it tends to create an air of detachment, but he does that here to great effect, lending the story a wonderfully melancholy air.  Digging down to the sentence level, though, it's not quite as good.  Murakami's sentences can often be clumsy and repetitive, especially in dialogue, and there are frequent examples of sentences I'm glad I didn't write:

"He stared fixedly at the image of of his naked body for the longest time, like someone unable to stop watching a TV news report of a huge earthquake or terrible flood in a faraway land." (p.36)

A translation issue, perhaps?  I doubt it.  Philip Gabriel is a fairly big-name translator, and with a book like this, I suspect that a lot of care would have gone into examining the text.  The truth is that Murakami's books are a good example of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts, where simple, clunky, sentences cohere into a mesmerising piece of writing.  I suspect that not everyone will agree with that assessment, though...

With Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki... being a return to form, and I'm pretty confident that it is, the inevitable talk of his Nobel Prize chances will crank up again, but I'm not convinced that it'll ever happen.  There are much better stylists out there, and it only takes one or two grumpy old Swedes who are convinced that his work fails to transcend pop fiction to ensure it will never go his way.  However, he does have a fairly impressive body of work now (I have sixteen of his books on my shelves), and he has developed an importance as a gateway writer, not just for Japanese literature, but also for translated fiction in general.  He's a figurehead for non-Anglophone writers, a genuine literary superstar, and while there are other writers who I'd rate above him, I wouldn't begrudge him the honour if it came his way :)

*****
So, having written far too much (and said far too little), how to sum up my thoughts on the book?  Well, I actually did it a few weeks ago on finishing the first read-through.  I dashed off a quick tweet which basically said:

"Really enjoyed this, a great book - the lovers will love it, and the haters will hate it.".

And that pretty much sums it up (I could have saved myself the trouble of writing the review, really).

Oh, in case you're wondering, I'm most definitely on the side of the lovers ;)

'Norwegian Wood' by Haruki Murakami (Review)

It's time for the second January in Japan readalong, and our choice is a novel I've read several times, but not since I started blogging.  It's a great book and one which is very close to my heart - as you'll find out...

*****
Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood (translated by Jay Rubin) begins with thirty-seven-year-old Toru Watanabe flying into Hamburg on business.  As the song Norwegian Wood comes on over the plane's music system, he feels a pang of nostalgia and is transported back to his youth...

We follow him to 1969, where young Toru is a university student, sitting out the student protests and walking the streets of Tokyo every Sunday with Naoko, an old friend from his high school days.  After their relationship intensifies, she suffers a breakdown, running away to a sanatorium outside Kyoto.  Meanwhile, Toru's friendship with the outgoing Midori threatens to become something more, leaving the confused student wondering which path he should take.  It's a crossroads in his life, one where a false step will have serious consequences for the future.

*****
Let me be clear - it's very hard for me to be totally objective about Norwegian Wood, one of my very first J-Lit encounters.  I initially read it a couple of years after coming back from Japan, and this coloured my interpretation of the book, with my first few reads focused on the nostalgia.  Toru's adventures forced me to think back, both to my time in Japan (the names, the places, the food, the trains...) and to my own student days, which were fast receding into memory.

What surprised me this time was how differently I saw the book.  I'm different now, older, a little better read perhaps, and a lot more analytical (a good example is the mention of Toru's copy of The Magic Mountain, a detail which has added significance since I read Mann's work last year).  This time, Murakami's book wasn't the comforting, meandering story I remembered, and initially I wasn't sure if it was still one for me...

As I got further into the book, what became apparent was a much more serious approach than I remembered.  This time, I was far more aware of the dark side of the novel and the examination of the issue of mental illness.  Right at the start, we come across a familiar topic:

"As we ambled along, Naoko spoke to me of wells."
p.2 (Vintage, 2000)

Anyone who has read a few of Murakami's works will have come across a well or two, and while this is a real one, it's also Murakami's favourite metaphor for the psyche.  Just as the people in Naoko's village warn of the danger of falling into the abandoned well, so too do the characters in Norwegian Wood risk tumbling into the hole of depression.  Toru's childhood friend Kizuki has already succumbed, and Naoko is tottering on the edge of the abyss.

However, I never really noticed before how close Toru himself is to plunging into depression - if he hasn't already.  More than just the monotony of student life and Naoko's absence, it's a deeper, more troubling worry which is affecting his moods and behaviour:

"At 5.30 I closed my book, went outside and ate a light supper.  How many Sundays - how many hundreds of Sundays like this - lay ahead of me?  "Quiet peaceful and lonely," I said aloud to myself.  On Sundays, I didn't wind my spring." (p.262)

Again, looking back on my student days, this is painfully close to home.

We see several examples of what one character describes as 'the snap', where a life can spiral out of control in an instant, even if the real causes have been present for some time.  Toru's difficult relationships drag him towards this point, and he is forced to make a choice between Naoko and Midori, one which Jay Rubin, in his biography Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words, describes as one between life and death.  However (as Rubin rightly points out) Toru's final actions are more than a little confused, and the decision he eventually makes is not quite as clear cut as you might think...

*****
Norwegian Wood was Murakami's big breakout book in Japan, a novel which disappointed many of his fans because of its apparent conformity, while also selling millions to people who had never wanted to try his work before.  It's a slightly autobiographical work, Murakami's attempt at the popular Japanese obsession of the I-Novel; Rubin (again) comments on obvious similarities with Murakami's time at Waseda University and his first encounters with his eventual wife, Yoko.

It's still recognisably a Murakami work though.  In addition to the obvious surface features (cats, wells, ears, jazz - you know the drill...), there are plenty of other links to Murakami's fictional world.  The parallel lives of Naoko's 'hostel' outside Kyoto and the events in Tokyo are reminiscent of the two worlds making up Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, while the themes of suicide and depression are very familiar to anyone who has read books (e.g. A Wild Sheep Chase) in The Trilogy (or Tetralogy) of the Rat.  Toru's disappointment with the (hypocritical) student protesters is a further criticism of capitalism, with Toru as just another of Murakami's silent protesters against the soulless progress of modern society.

Amidst the darkness though, there are plenty of lighter moments, and the writer's dry humour manages to penetrate the tension:

"Hey, are we counter-revolutionaries?" Midori asked me when we were outside.  "Are we going to be strung upon telegraph poles if the revolution succeeds?"
"Let's have lunch first, just in case." (p.75)

While I focused more on the serious issues in this review, in the end, it's a book which can't help but win you over with its abundant charm and its echoes of youth.

The adult Toru's decision to write down his memories came from the realisation that his memories of Naoko had faded and changed, and I'd have to say that I felt the same way.  I'm a different me, and this was a very different reading.  Today's post is my attempt to nail down my impressions of the novel at this point in time, to analyse what it is that I get from Murakami and his book.  I'm sure next time will be different too - and there'll definitely be a next time :)

'Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words' by Jay Rubin (Review)

Jay Rubin is an American academic who is well known for his translations of Japanese literature, including works by Ryunosuke Akutagawa and Natsume Soseki.  However, he is undoubtedly best known in the west for his work on some of Haruki Murakami's back catalogue, including Norwegian Wood, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and After Dark.  Not content with just translating Murakami's fiction however, Rubin, who knows the writer quite well, decided to write a book about the man and his creations - and a good one it is too...

*****
Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words is the next logical step for Murakami fans to take when they've burned through all of his translated works.  It's a book which gives an insight into the author's life while also shedding some light on what it is he is actually trying to say in his writing (something which has puzzled me for a long time...).

We follow Murakami through his less-than-stellar school days and his riot-interrupted time at university, finding out about his early marriage and his years running a jazz club along the way.  He was never a typical Japanese writer, showing little interest in his native literature or culture, preferring instead to experience American novels and jazz (which will come as little surprise to anyone who has read any of his books).  Eventually though, he decided to try his hand at writing - and the rest, as they say, is history...

As interesting as Murakami's life is though, what we're really here for is the guided tour through his books, and Rubin is just the man for the job.  He carefully takes the reader through assorted novels, stories and non-fiction pieces in chronological order (which isn't always the order, or the format, they appeared in overseas), explaining the thought processes behind the books and highlighting connections between the various works - some obvious, others not quite so easy to spot at first glance.

Rubin shows how Murakami was the first of a new breed of writers, one who (unlike his predecessors) was in tune with the new Japan:

"...Murakami has been called the first writer completely at home with the elements of American popular culture that permeate present-day Japan.  He has also been seen as the first genuinely "post-post-war writer", the first to cast off the "dank, heavy atmosphere" of the post-war period and to capture in literature the new Americanised mood of lightness." p.17 (Vintage Books, 2005)

As well as this difference in style, Murakami was also a literary outsider in other ways.  He was not a member of any literary group (very unusual for a Japanese author), and his books were initially frowned upon by such heavyweights as Kenzaburo Oe.

However, this difference was not quite as marked as first appears.  His stories, with their typical unresolved endings, are compared to traditional Japanese writers such as Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, and he is also the latest in a long line of writers to enrich Japanese literature through his work in translation (following in the footsteps of Tsubouchi and Futabatei!).  In fact, for those not overly familiar with Murakami, his work as a literary translator may come as a bit of a shock.  According to Rubin, he has translated dozens of American novels and short story collections and has been responsible for a resurgence in the popularity of American literature in Japan.

For me, the most useful part of the book though was the focus on themes in Murakami's work.  Rubin concentrates very heavily on Murakami's handling of the subject of memory and its unreliability, claiming that:

"Perhaps no other writer concerned with memory and the difficulty of reclaiming the past - not Kawabata, not even Proust - has succeeded as well as Murakami in capturing the immediacy of the experience of déjà vu." p.60

While I'm a little dubious about that boast (and in certain blogs I frequent, I'm sure them's fighting words...), it's true that the writer is fascinated with the way we see the world and the impossibility of ever knowing the truth about the past and other people.

Rubin also devotes a lot of time to Murakami's concept of 'the other place', the space occupied by the things that are not present in our current location.  Whether it refers to the psyche, an afterlife or another dimension, it's ever-present in Murakami's writing, and many of his protagonists are trying to bridge the gap between here and 'the other place'.  How?  Well, some of you may have noticed that there are a fair few wells, tunnels and corridors in his books...

While I could misinterpret Rubin's ideas all day, I think I'll leave the analysis there.  Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words is an excellent book and one I enjoyed immensely.  Still, there are a few issues I'd like to quickly point out.  If you haven't really read a lot of Murakami, I'm not sure that this is for you.  Part of the fun lies in recognising the stories Rubin is discussing - and there are a lot of them.  I was able to frequently refer to the many books on my Murakami shelf to jog my memory and spent a lot of time rereading certain short stories.  If all you've read is Norwegian Wood, leave this one for the future.

Another possible issue is that it doesn't always pay to see your heroes up close, warts and all.  On the whole, Rubin (a close friend) paints a very favourable picture of the writer (and any mention of his wife Yoko verges on hagiography), but I was a little troubled by a couple of images.  For one thing, his style of writing appears a little haphazard, and he rarely seems to know where he's going with the books he's writing.  He could also be accused of writing for the sake of writing as his output is truly phenomenal (and covers all kinds of areas and genres).  For a fan of translated fiction like me though, perhaps the most worrying revelation is that he is comfortable with translations of translations, preferring his work to get to readers quickly, even if it isn't quite what he wrote in the first place...

Still, nobody's perfect, and anyone expecting perfection deserves all the disappointments they get.  Readers who set their bar a little lower will have great fun with this book - just don't blame me if you get hooked on hunting down translated rarities of Murakami's work...

*****

...speaking of which, I have a little story to tell you ;)

I recently saw a comment on the January in Japan blog where someone signed up for the challenge, and (like a good host) I popped over to check out the blog.  The blogger was Carola of brilliant years, and she had just published a post - one in which a link was given to a translation of a rare Murakami work.  It's called The Sheep Man's Christmas, and while the quality of the translation (and the formatting) may leave a little to be desired, it's still a fun piece of writing with that inimitable Murakami sense of humour.

I was very happy with my unexpected Christmas present, and I'd urge you all to have a look too :)

Shadow IFFP 2012 - Round-Up Number One

It's #translationthurs on Twitter again, and what better way to celebrate than by kicking off a series of IFFP 2012 posts?  None, that's what ;)  And, to make things even better, I have been asked to be a late addition to the Shadow IFFP Panel - I feel extremely honoured :)

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am planning to make my way through nine or ten selections from the longlist for this year's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize before the shortlist is announced, so I thought I might get the ball rolling by rounding up the opinions of the ones I've already read and commented on.  No full reviews here - I've already examined the books in more (and, in one case, exhaustive!) detail elsewhere.  For full reviews, please click on the hyper-link on the book titles.  Shall we?

*****

1Q84 (Books One and Two) by Haruki Murakami (translated by Jay Rubin)

What's it all about?

Haruki Murakami is one of the heavy hitters on the longlist, and his book, 1Q84, is not exactly light either.  A story of a man and a woman, whose love must overcome such obstacles as parallel worlds, sinister cults and weird little people, Murakami's novel brings together ideas from all of his life's work and attempts to blend them into one cohesive story.

Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?

Possibly not.  I have a much more positive view of the book than many out there, but I still don't think Murakami quite nailed the landing with this one.  There are too many unresolved issues and passages of tedium to make this a success.  I would also say that not having Book Three here actually hurts its chances as I thought it was the best of the three - although not everyone agrees...

Will it make the shortlist?

Again, no.  The reviews of 1Q84 have been fairly negative, and I would be very surprised if it were to make it any further in what is a very competitive contest.  The fact that it wasn't included in the seven-book longlist for the Man Asian Literature Prize is another indicator that it isn't going down well with the people who make these decisions.

*****
Next World Novella by Matthias Politycki (translated by Anthea Bell)

What's it all about?

An ageing academic wakes up one morning to find his beloved wife slouched over scattered pieces of paper - dead.  As he attempts to come to terms with the shock, and before grief has even had the chance to set in, he notices the writing she was doing before she died - and starts reading.  The pages he sees contain a very different view of his relationship with his wife, one which destroys the image he has been carrying around in his mind for decades...

Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?

Absolutely.  This was one of my favourite books of last year, and it is yet another of Peirene Press' little gems.  It's a cleverly-constructed cat-and-mouse game, carefully deconstructing the protagonist's life and laying bare the true state of his relationship with his darling wife.  One cautionary note though - I did read the original German, not the translation :)

Will it make the shortlist?

Possibly not.  There are a few big names on the longlist, and the cynic in me thinks that familiarity breeds shortlisting.  Politycki is not well known in English-speaking circles, so that may count against him.  Having said that, of course, translator Anthea Bell is extremely well known and respected - hopefully that will be a positive point!

*****

Please Look After Mother by Kyung-sook Shin (translated by Chi-young Kim)

What's it all about?

An elderly country woman goes missing on a trip to the Korean capital of Seoul.  As her family members frantically try to find her, a few of them relate their memories of her, only realising now how much she meant to them.

Do you think it deserves to make the shortlist?

Nonononononono.  No.  This book is definitely one which polarises opinions, and I'm on the side which believes that it is a pile of melodramatic rubbish.  Badly written, badly translated, sentimental clap-trap which may well turn out to be my least favourite book of the year.

Will it make the shortlist?

Probably - life's cruel like that.  There are a lot of people who liked this book, so there's a fair chance that some of them will be among the judges.  Now if there's a judge there who shares my view, that will make for a very interesting discussion indeed ;)

*****
Three down, many to go - watch this space...

1Q84 Review - Q & A with Yours Truly (Part Three of Three)

I'm back for one final post on Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 (a post which contains plot details some of you may not want to know!), and it seems that my inner voice has a couple more questions for me...

*****
That's right.  Here's one for you to ponder - is 1Q84 finished?
Now that's probably one you weren't expecting ;)  The easy answer to this is simply to say that of course it's finished.  Murakami has written a three-volume novel (very like the Victorians he admires), and that's the end of the matter.  While it would have been a little strange if the story had ended abruptly at the end of Book Two, with Tengo and Aomame finally together, away from the parallel world of 1Q84, we have what passes for a happy ending.

Even if you disagree that the end of Book Three represents an adequate ending, Murakami's previous works will provide evidence to the contrary.  Kafka on the Shore and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, two of his most famous (and substantial) works are every bit as surreal and confusing as 1Q84, and their endings are just as ambiguous and open to interpretation.  Murakami is not known for wrapping things up in a neat bow (even Norwegian Wood, his most 'normal' book, ends in an unsatisfying manner), so why should we expect things to be tied up neatly here?

You would also think that Murakami himself is thoroughly over the book by now.  He's a man of many interests, a writer who bounces between long novels, short stories, works of non-fiction, essays and translations, not exactly a good sign for anyone expecting him to devote more of his remaining years to one particular book.  And anyway, if Book Four was in the pipeline, wouldn't we have heard about it by now?

So why am I even asking (myself!) the question?  Simply because, to me at least, 1Q84, seems unfinished.  There are just too many loose threads, even by Murakami's messy standards, stories which need to be explored further.  Characters like Fuka-Eri, Tamaru and the Dowager have been left up in the air, waiting for their cue to return to the stage.  The lack of cohesion which I mentioned in an earlier post could also be easily explained by the fact that there is more to come, further volumes which will pull these strands together.

One of the reasons I gave above against a sequel was that Aomame and Tengo had finally found each other, closing the gap which was providing the tension for the novel.  But if you recall, there are a couple of details which indicate that this may not be the case.  Aomame is carrying a baby, a child which could be of vital importance to the Sakigake group, and they are unlikely to just give up on her (especially as they are still chasing her for Leader's murder...).

There is also the small hint given at the end of the novel that the lovers have not actually succeeded in returning to the real world, but have entered a third world (1X84?!), which surely gives material for a continuation.  Also, if there's another volume, we may even find out what exactly the little people are actually all about - surely there must be more to them than meets the eye...

You're probably unconvinced (and rightly so) - it's unlikely to ever happen.  However, there is one more small piece of evidence from the text, one last crumb of comfort I'm taking from 1Q84.  When Aomame is lying low in her new apartment, Tamaru brings her some reading material to the pass the time.  It was, of course, Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time - all seven volumes of it.  Now if that's not a sign, I don't know what is...

You're not getting away that easily.  You've talked a lot of rubbish about the book, but you still haven't committed yourself - did you like 1Q84?

I really am tough on myself :(

Did I like 1Q84?  Of course I did :)  Although there are a few exceptions out there, I think that most people who like Murakami's work will get a lot out of 1Q84.  It may not have lived up to the hype (which, for regular readers at least, seemed to be up there with the return of Star Wars), but it's a welcome addition to the Murakami canon.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book and will be adding it to my collection at some point for a later reread (the three-volume Australian edition pictured has, alas, now returned to the library - it was brand-new too...).  And, let's face it, if I hadn't liked it, I would hardly have spent countless hours writing a series of reviews which has finally stretched to six separate posts :)

One final point I'd like to make, one I touched on in another post, is that while 1Q84 is one book, for me it is best seen as a series of separate works - and should be read as such.  I raced through each of the books in a couple of days, but I actually gave myself a couple of days between each of the parts, going away and reading something else.  In this way, I think I avoided some of the frustration many readers have expressed about Book Two (probably the weakest of the three).  In fact, my wishes for paperback versions of 1Q84 would be three separate books, all with the Vintage UK black, white and red covers, novels which will slot neatly into my Murakami shelf...

...to be followed by any possible sequels.  We can but dream :)

1Q84 Review - Q & A with Yours Truly (Part Two of Three)

We're continuing our lengthy look at Haruki Murakami's latest work, so here's another gentle reminder that people who haven't completed the book yet may wish to come back another day - I don't want anyone to be disappointed by stumbling across secrets they have yet to uncover for themselves :)

*****
So, we've looked at what it's all about, but there's still something we haven't discussed - is 1Q84 any good?
That's a very good question (thank you Tony!), and it is one which is not that easy to answer.  It is not at all difficult to pick holes in this novel as Murakami's imagination can often leave the reader scratching their head, wondering what exactly he is up to this time.  Be that as it may though, there are several areas in particular that really make you cringe.

One of those is, of course, the suggestions of underage sex inside the cult.  Although the exact details of this later become blurred (we're not really sure who these girls are, or if they're even human, and Leader claims not to be able to do anything about it), the fact is that Murakami writes about ten-year-old girls having sex and then dumps the idea somewhere in a corner.  I actually thought, after finishing Book One, that the idea of sexual abuse would be the dominant idea of the novel, but Murakami seems to be merely using it as a plot device to move things along.  I don't like that at all...

Another issue I have is the large amount of information Murakami dumps into the story.  Part of the pleasure of reading his books is the way the narrative sweeps you along; you may not know what is going on around you, but you feel that the narrator, often a first-person point-of-view, is in the same boat. In fact, the metaphor of a boat, floating downstream towards the rapids, is an apt one for the usual style of Murakami's fiction.  However, the constant stopping and starting in 1Q84, waiting around for back stories to be filled in (or for information to be repeated for the nth time) is frustrating.  Book Two suffers particularly from this, and it's not exactly something that enhances the reading experience.

I can't finish my summary of the negatives without mentioning what could well be the silliest part of the book.  No, not that sex scene; while not exactly great writing, it was inevitable, and I could see where it was going.  I'm talking about the little people, or as I like to think of them, the seven Japanese dwarfs.  If anyone can actually think of a reason for them to be in the book, a real need divorced from the supposed voices Leader hears, or the need for someone to construct the air chrysalis, please let me know.  I really don't see what Murakami thought he was doing here - didn't he realise how stupid that whole idea seemed?

Before you all start tearing up your copies of 1Q84 though, let's look at the other side of the story.  It's not as easy to pick out reasons why the book is actually a good one (the negatives are a lot more immediate and tangible), but they do exist.  No, really, they do :)

One is that, for the Murakami fan, 1Q84 is the culmination of his life's work, with themes and ideas explored in earlier novels drawn together into one over-arching work.  In the first of my more tongue-in-cheek looks at the book, I was allegedly torn between this idea and criticising Murakami for repeating himself.  The truth is that I admire the way he has constructed the book, using the parallel narrative structure of Hard-Boiled Wonderland..., the usual everyman protagonist (e.g. The Trilogy of the Rat) and the societal concerns he has for Japan (e.g. A Wild Sheep Chase, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Underground).  He has gone out on a limb with his attempt to tie it all together, and while it isn't a complete success, he should be applauded for it.

Despite using the familiar though, 1Q84 is also full of new ideas.  The use of the third-person protagonists sets the book apart from Murakami's earlier work, and the introduction of a major female character, Aomame, is also a welcome addition.  Even within the book, the introduction of a third voice in the final book is a big surprise, and one which sheds new light on the story.  Ushikawa (who, incidentally, may have originally appeared in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle..) is key to understanding the story, the price he pays for his loneliness a contrast to what happens to Aomame and Tengo.

The best thing I can say about 1Q84 though (and I know that not everyone will agree with this) is that it is an absorbing read.  The version you can see in the photo above was approximately 930 pages, but I never really felt that it was outstaying its welcome.  The story, while ludicrous at times, pulled me along in its wake, always making me stay for just one more chapter.  The concept of the meta-fictional Air Chrysalis is a brilliant one, and the idea of the beautiful - if slightly robotic - face of a book is one which probably happens more than we would like to admit (yesterday, on Twitter, a few of us were discussing who Murakami's inspiration for Fuka-Eri actually was!).  By twisting the two (then three) strands around, the reader is offered a fuller flavour of what is happening, allowing us to get our heads around the writer's intentions.  I'm not saying it always works...

So, after all that waffling, the answer is... sorry, what was the question?  Oh yes, is it any good...  I would argue that while it is by no means Murakami's best work, 1Q84 is a very interesting novel, and one which will reward those who reread it (especially those who have already ploughed their way through Murakami's earlier books).  The question, of course, is how many people will be prepared to reread a book of this length :)  There's also one final factor which needs to be considered when answering this question, one I haven't yet touched upon, and that is...

...what I'll be looking at in my last 1Q84 post - promise ;)

1Q84 Review - Q & A with Yours Truly (Part One of Three)

Last year saw a few whimsical musings about Haruki Murakami's latest novel, 1Q84, but I can no longer hide behind split personalities, fictional characters and famous ghost-writers - it's time to get down to the serious business of unravelling my feelings on the book.  In the next few posts, I'll be posing myself some rather stern questions and then watching myself squirm while attempting to answer them (fun for all involved!).

Before we begin though, just a friendly warning: if you haven't read the book yet, this might be your cue to slip away quietly before you find out something you didn't want to know yet.  Don't worry - I won't hold it against you ;)

*****
So what's it all about, Tony? 
Glad you asked - well, actually, no, I'm not.  This is not an easy book to define, and any attempt to pigeon-hole it, or define it in one sweeping statement about themes is doomed to failure.  One reason for this is the fact that 1Q84 consists of three books, and after finishing the set, I believe that this is actually how the series should be read.

Book One, as well as setting up the fictional world of 1Q84 (and introducing us to many of its delightful inhabitants), has a strong focus on sexuality, especially society's attitudes towards women.  At the start of the book, the reader is led through a series of erotic escapades, both contemporary and relived in memory, and after a while there is an uncomfortable sense of voyeurism.  At one point, I began to think that Murakami was simply indulging in cheap thrills...

However, when the writer begins to carefully disclose certain details from his protagonists' past lives, this feeling rapidly disappears.  Instead, we are left to ponder the effects of physical and sexual abuse, whether on children or married women, and the way in which a society like the Japan of 1984 (an important point to remember...) can push this kind of abuse under the carpet.  In the actions of Aomame, Ayumi, the Dowager and Tamaki Otsuka, we see the consequences of ignoring such brutal behaviour towards women: suicide, dangerous hedonism or revenge...

Book Two seems to shift focus somewhat, switching its attention to the subject of religious fanaticism and the effect it has on its adherents (and their children).  During Aomame's lengthy chat with Leader (in the course of the strangest - and most unhurried - assassination ever), the truth of what has been happening between the head of the cult and his handmaidens comes to light; however, it appears that Aomame (and Murakami himself) is no longer so interested in what has, up to this point, been her primary motivation.  The focus has switched to the organisation of Sakigake and a desire to know what exactly drives the religious group.

Of course, Sakigake are not the only fanatics highlighted in 1Q84.  In the quest to avenge her daughter's death, the Dowager, the head of an equally shadowy empire (with, arguably, more efficient agents of revenge than Sakigake itself), has become a law unto herself, focused on righting perceived wrongs that the legal system is unable to deal with.  And, of course, if we are discussing fanatics and monolithic systems, there's nobody as dedicated as Tengo's father - if the witnesses have made Aomame what she is, then Tengo is a product of neglect by NHK...

Book Three then moves the reader on to another tangent, this time concerned with loneliness.  All three of the narrative characters, Ushikawa, Aomame and Tengo, spend time cooped up in confined spaces, with limited contact with the outside world.  The result of the choices they have made, their solitude is a trial of strength and character, and Murakami does a great job of showing what a miserable life it can be when you're deserted by (or isolated from) those who make your life worth living.

It is here that Ushikawa is a useful foil to the two main characters.  He is ultimately brought low by his inability to connect with other people and his insistence on going it alone.  While Aomame and Tengo are also natural loners, the love they have for each other is a redeeming factor which saves them from the fate poor Ushikawa suffers.  It is also interesting to note that it is Tamaru who brings Ushikawa's life to an end - his reaction on doing so shows that he realises that this is something which could (and quite possibly will) happen to him one day...

Three books - three ideas.  Whether or not this is what Murakami intended is unanswerable (although highly unlikely!), but there does seem to be a progression in his ideas and interests as the work progresses.   Perhaps it is is this lack of a single focus which makes 1Q84 a difficult book to pin down: a case of too many ideas spoiling the broth?  Or a healthy blend of spicy ideas?  Well, that remains to be seen ;)

*****
So, I've looked at what I think it may all be about, but to what extent has Murakami actually achieved his aims with 1Q84?  Well, for the answer to that question, you'll have to come back next time...

1Q84 (Book Three) - Anthony Trollope Allays Your Moral Concerns

Recently, a document of remarkable literary importance was found in an old house in Tokyo.  Incredibly, as strange as this may sound, it appears to have a bearing on a modern work of literature.  Scholars are currently authenticating the document in the hope of unravelling its meaning...

Good evening, one and all.  My name is Anthony Trollope, and I recently received a request to rewrite the third volume of a remarkable novel which has just come to light.  It is not my usual work - I am more of a writer than a rewriter -, but, as we all know, even Shakespeare wrote for money!  The reason for this most peculiar task is that my editor (a fine fellow) has high hopes for this young chap; however, he feels that his writing is most inappropriate for a readership raised on good, stout English principles, and it is my duty to amend the text to make it safer, and more palatable, for the public at large.

Let me tell you all a little about the author and his novel.  His name, according to my editor, is Mr. Haruki Murakami, and I am led to believe that he is an educated young man from the islands of Japan.  He has produced a most imaginative piece of writing entitled "1Q84", where the title refers to an alternative 1884, one in which Japan is a most civilised country (and not the barbarian backwater it is now!).  In choosing to place the action of his novel in the future, young Mr. Murakami has taken certain liberties with what is acceptable in polite society, and it is precisely this aspect of his work which I will be discussing today.  The antics his characters get up to are certainly very far from the way we live now!

There are two main characters in "1Q84", Miss Aomame and Mr. Tengo Kawana, and it is with Miss Aomame that I would like to begin today.  It really is an indictment on Mr. Murakami that an attractive young woman should be left unchaperoned to wander around the metropolis, and I am afraid that the disgraceful consequences which arise from this are a clear lesson to us all of the folly of giving young ladies more independence.  Not content with "working" for a living, she is even permitted to live completely alone!  I intend to introduce a sprightly duenna, Lady Murasaki, who will be able to keep a watchful eye on our murderous young reprobate - there will be no wandering the streets of Tokyo on her watch!

I am also extremely concerned about young Mr. Kawana, a man who really should be making more of his life, what with his undoubted mental capacity and literary prowess.  It troubles me to see the time he wastes on unnecessary thought, when he should be devoting all of his energies to the literary arts.  A man with such an inordinate amount of leisure time and no published novel!  I am currently working on three manuscripts in addition to this minor rewriting task!!!

Of course, my readership would be most keen for this romance to come to its natural conclusion.  Young Tengo, as befits a gentleman, will do the honest thing by Lady Murasaki's charge, and the culmination of my version of the novel will be the wedding of Mr. Kawana and Miss Aomame at Barchester Cathedral.  Quite how I intend to get them there is an issue I am yet to resolve - but you may rest assured that there will be no suspicion of any bump under the wedding gown...

However, the moral intransigence of "1Q84" is by no means limited to our two young friends, I'm afraid.  There is a wide cast of minor characters, many of whom will need to be considerably rewritten if they are not to offend the delicate nature of our potential readers.  Miss Havisham The Dowager, a wonderfully-drawn widow, is perhaps one of the least offensive and morally corrupt personages, and it is wonderful to see how she has established an abode for women who have failed to fulfil their marital duties, providing them with a home until they are ready to return to the rigours of their home obligations.  Perhaps we could tone down the mercilessly-seeking-out-and-killing-overbearing-husbands part though - a gentle ticking-off, delivered by an amiable policeman, should do the trick.

Now, one man who would be quite at home in an English three-volume novel is the fascinating Mr. Ushikawa, the gentleman (although I use the expression in the loosest sense) with the shabby attire and a marvellously misshapen head.  Despite his uncouth behaviour, I admire Mr. Ushikawa greatly.  He is a most fascinating creation, and, were I to be cynical, I would suspect that our old friend Mr. Dickens might have had a role in assisting young Murakami in his formation.  I really cannot see any pressing need to change his character at all; however, I'm sure my audience would enjoy his demise more if the lodgings he meets his fate in were a tad darker and even more insalubrious.

Another character who will have to learn his place is the Dowager's valet, Mr. Tamaru.  Quite why our valiant widow should have selected such a queer fish to serve in her establishment is beyond me, and I shall be making certain that this scoundrel gets his just deserts.  I should think that a short spell in one of his Imperial Majesty's prisons will do the trick - either that or transportation (does Japan have any colonies?  I must ask Mr. Murakami about this).  What's that you say?  Wouldn't he be hung for his crime?  Oh dear me, no, these are more enlightened times - sodomy is a relatively minor offence these days...

There is a lot for me to work out here, but I do think that I shall be able to make a fairly passable story out of this last volume.  By making the alterations mentioned above, and smoothing out a few of the rougher edges (I shall certainly be removing all of this nonsense about the 'Little People' - I mean, really!), the book should be ready for serialisation within a month or so.  Oh, and of course we will be adding a hunting scene (perhaps a thrilling chase after a cunning fox - or cat! - around Shibuya station?  That sounds like a nice, leafy estate for a run.).  I shall let you know how it all goes once I have completed the task.

I just hope I have the time to give it the justice it deserves.  I recently had an idea for a series of books about a politician, and I suspect that I may get a little distracted from the task in hand.  Wait - now if I also added an Irishman and a story about some missing diamonds...

The document ends abruptly here.  We will inform the public of any discoveries we make regarding the writing of this invaluable piece of literary history.

1Q84 (Book Two) - A Brief Chat with Mr. Ushikawa

You, the reader, are seated in a rather uncomfortable plastic chair in a rather depressing-looking room.  Having arrived to complain about Book Two of Haruki Murakami's 1Q84, you were shown into this room and asked to take a seat.  The room is fairly dark, despite the sunlight coming in from between the blinds over the window, and it actually takes a good minute or two before you realise that you are not alone...

Over in a corner, a man is smoking a cigarette - as your eyes start to adjust, you see a packet of Seven Stars on the table.  But it is the man, not the cigarette packet that draws your attention.  Dressed in a crumpled old grey suit, which looks like it has spent the last few years screwed up in a bottom drawer, the man is perhaps one of the most unusual (and disturbing) figures you have seen in a good while.  His head has a most unusual shape - lumpy, asymmetrical -, and his bushy eyebrows almost join, reaching towards each other across the wrinkle-lined space above his bulbous nose...

As the smoke from the cigarette drifts over to you, you wrinkle up your nose, ready to ask the man to put it out.  However, before you do, the man begins to speak...

"I do apologise, a filthy habit I know, but what can you do?"  He raises his eyebrows, stubs out the cigarette (on what looks suspiciously like a rubber plant), and walks across to the table.  "I apologise for the inconvenience," he says, waving an arm languidly around the room, "but we have no better room free at the moment - the Foundation is currently very busy...  Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Ushikawa."  He leans across the table, offering his hand to be shaken.  You stare at him, unwilling to reciprocate.  "Ah, yes, I understand."  He drops his hand and sits down in the chair opposite you.  And smiles.  A mouthful of uneven, yellowing teeth appear, like a set of dirty dominoes in a worn black box.  He continues talking, leaning earnestly across the table.

"I understand that you are, shall we say, less than satisfied with the second book, and I fully understand that, I really do," he smiles, trying to convince you of his apparent understanding with a display of his uneven teeth, "but I think it would be very rash to give up on Mr. Murakami's work so close to the end.  I do understand," he quickly spits out, trying to preempt the objection rising in your throat, "that you are a very busy person and that you have a limited amount of time to spend on reading and reviewing - we at the foundation, and my employers, have a great deal of respect for your ability and judgement as a blogger," - a pause, and another smile - " however, we feel that perhaps you have been somewhat negatively influenced by certain, shall we say, unfortunate reviews which may have been written recently..."

You shift position slightly in your chair, showing a little impatience at Ushikawa's manner, but he appears calm and cheerful, unaware of the hostility you are projecting.  He sits back in his chair, puts his hands on his knees and continues with his virtual monologue.  "Now I'm sure that one of your main problems was the pace of the narrative... is that the right word, 'narrative'?"  You nod, almost involuntarily.  Ushikawa smiles again.  "Yes, that's right, the slow narrative."  A pause.  "But, you see, while unfortunate , this waiting was most unavoidable.  Aomame's meeting with Leader, this was the focal point of the novel, the point to which all roads were leading, and, indeed, from which they all moved away.  It is inevitable, is it not, that the writer would want to create some tension, to give the scene the weight it deserves, no?"

Ushikawa leans forward slowly, spreading his stick-like arms wide in an apparent act of supplication.  You nod your head slightly, and then kick yourself for doing so.  Ushikawa smiles again, that wide, eery display of the mangled ivory, and nods himself, as if in acknowledgement of a job well done.

"I would imagine that another of the issues you may have with the book is one of repetition", Ushikawa continues.  "The two moons, the scene in the classroom...", he smiles again, almost a leer this time, "even the rather unflattering descriptions of me and my misshapen head...  But you see, this is a very long book.  I agree, the lengthy speech Tengo gives beside his father's sick bed, or rather", he interrupts himself, "a kind of soliloquy, a ponderous recap of all that has happened to him - yes, that may be a little unnecessary..."  He pauses and looks you in the eye.  "I am quite sure that you, as a very intelligent reader and writer, are in no need of such repetition, but you have to think of others, those who do not read so regularly, or perhaps so quickly.  Do you not see a need for a little aid to the memory on occasion?".

On saying this, Ushikawa tilts his head to one side, shrugs his shoulders and extends his arms to the side, grinning his eery smile.  He holds this pose for what seems like an eternity until, out of sheer embarrassment, you give a slight, barely perceptible nod.  This slightest of movements, however, appears to satisfy him.  He settles back into his chair, crosses his legs and looks up at the ceiling, as if to ponder his next words.  You watch as the yellowing fingers on his right hand move rapidly and smoothly, a somewhat worrying action until you realise that he is playing with an imaginary cigarette...

"Of course," he says in a somewhat disconsolate voice, "I can see why you may be offended by certain events in this section of the book, events of a, shall we say, sexual nature?"  He glances over at you, raising his large, bushy eyebrows so high that they almost disappear into the mass of hair on the top of his misshapen head.  You squirm in your seat and look away, concentrating your gaze on the rubber plant in the corner.  Ushikawa smiles and carries on.

"Whether you are offended with what happens, or just with the clumsy way in which Mr. Murakami expresses it, I can fully understand, but I can assure you that there is a method in his madness...".  You look up, intrigued despite yourself.  Ushikawa smirks and says "Yes, I too know a little Shakespeare...".  He winks, and you slouch down in your chair, wishing you were somewhere, anywhere else.

"Yes, if you read further, you will see that all is not quite as it appears.  The, ahem, intercourse featured is there for a reason, it's a somewhat pivotal point of the plot.  I do understand that this scene can appear a little distasteful, especially given the age of one of the... participants," Ushikawa raises his eyebrows again, sending you further into your seat, "but perhaps your cultural sensitivities are a little different to ours.  I am not making excuses, I am just giving explanations." He shrugs.  "I am merely following the orders of those who employ me..."

You lean forward, and, for the first time, you decide to speak.  "But that's not really enough, Mr. Ushikawa.  Can't you explain a little more, enough to make me think it's really worthwhile continuing with the book?"  Ushikawa sits back and beams, his yellow teeth shining in all their gaping glory.  He waits a moment, obviously enjoying himself, before standing up and leaning towards you.  "If you can't understand it without an explanation, you can't understand it with an explanation...", he says, and turns towards the door.  As he takes a few steps towards the exit, you decide to ask one last question...

"Why should I trust you, Mr. Ushikawa?"

He stops, turns to face you and stares deep into your eyes.  All traces of his smile are gone; only a tired, time-worn face remains.  He waits, staring until, abashed, you have to lower your eyes.  He sighs and replies, "Well, if you read Book Three, you may well find out...".  With this, he leaves the room.

You stay seated, Ushikawa's last words echoing around your head.  And - just as Ushikawa knew you would - you decide to give 1Q84 one last try...