Kafka on the Shore

Kafka on the Shore is powered by two remarkable characters: a teenage boy, Kafka Tamura, who runs away from home either to escape a gruesome oedipal prophecy or to search for his long-missing mother and sister; and an aging simpleton called Nakata, who never recovered from a wartime affliction and now is drawn toward Kafka for reasons that, like the most basic activities of daily life, he cannot fathom.

As their paths converge, and the reasons for that convergence become clear, Haruki Murakami enfolds readers in a world where cats talk, fish fall from the sky, and spirits slip out of their bodies to make love or commit murder. Kafka on the Shore displays one of the world’s great storytellers at the peak of his powers.

Quotes and thoughts while reading:

Goodness, this book was just written for people who love to read, there were so many sections and parts that felt like they were meant for me. And while I know this is narcissistic, and selfish, my hope is that other people feel this way as they read it. Let's jump in.

"I'm not trying to imply I can keep up this silent, isolated facade all the time. Sometimes the wall I've erected around me comes crumbling down. It doesn't happen very often, but sometimes, before I even realize what's going on, there I am - naked and defenseless and totally confused..." (p 10) I've written fragments, and sentences that mirror this beautifully, this is just one of so many occasions where Murakami(/his translator) speaks, or writes, in such a familiar manner.

"...When I open them, most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out between the pages - a special odor of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers." (p 38)

"Nakata's father... was a famous professor in a university. His specialty was something called theery of fine ants. I have two younger brothers, and they're both very bright. One of them works at a company, and he's a depart mint chief. My other brother works at a place called the minis tree of trade and indus tree." (p 48) I like word play, and will work to remember that I work in fine ants

"I sink down in the sofa and into the world of The Arabian Nights. Slowly, like a movie fadeout, the real world evaporated. I'm alone, inside the world of the story. My favorite feeling in the world."(p 59)

'Yeah, I get it,' I say. 'But I do have one request.'
'What's that?'
'Is it okay if I imagine you naked?'
Her hand stops and she looks me in the eyes. 'You want to imagine me naked while we're doing this?'
'Yeah. I've been trying to keep from imagining that, but I can't.'
'Really?'
'It's like a TV you can't turn off.'
She laughs. 'I don't get it. You didn't have to tell me that! Why don't you just go ahead and imagine what you want? You don't need my permission. How can I know what's in your head?'
'I can't help it. Imagining something's very important, so I thought I'd better tell you. It has nothing to do with whether you know or not.'
'You are some kind of polite boy, aren't you,' she says, impressed. 'I guess it's nice, though, that you wanted to let me know. All right, permission granted. Go ahead and picture me nude.'
'Thanks,' I say.
'How is it? Is my body nice?'
'It's amazing.' I reply. (p 92)

I found the frozen cats in the freezer rather visceral, the language was super frank, and offered a really interesting glimpse into the strange being that was Johnnie Walker - the cat killer, Colonel Sanders - the stone entrance revealer, etc. The pursuit to harvest souls, and how he seemingly didn't have a choice was another interesting facet. See pages 139 to 145 for more of the strange rules our inter-dimensional being has to follow.

'There will be fish falling from the sky, just like rain. A lot of fish. Mostly sardines, I believe. With a few mackerel mixed in.'... The next day when - sure enough - sardines and mackerel rained down on a section of Nakano Ward, the young policeman turned white as a sheet. (p 168) And this is the strangest thing about this book, the magical realism is palpable. You sit there left wondering, did that really happen? Is that real? And per this book, it seems like it was. In addition, the strange tale of Nakata killing someone, turned out to be real as well. I really thought that was going to be a case of an unreliable narrator, but it seems Nakata does not lie.

'At any rate, what you've been saying is fundamentally wrong,' Oshima says, calmly yet emphatically. 'I am most definitely not a pathetic, historical example of a patriarchal male.'... 'Then explain, simply, what's wrong with what we've said'... 'Without sidestepping the issue or trying to show off how erudite you are'... 'All right. I'll do just that...' 'First of all, I'm not a male,' Oshima announces. (p 178) This goes on, and only gets better, but I'll let that stay in the book. I really appreciate how, even when we learn that Oshima is biologically female, all the male pronouns are still used.

"But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind that T.S. Elliott calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what they don't want to."(p 181)

Around page 196 the connection between Kafka and Nakata becomes more apparent, and is still totally shocking. The way this books envelopes you in a world where you can't tell the "truth" from "fiction" is incredibly powerful at being able to throw curve balls at you. When book "fiction" collides with book "fact" I was a reader was just left with a "huh!". It's really great.

"Anton Chekhov put it best when he said, 'If a pistol appears in a story, eventually it's got to be fired.'... The stone you're carrying there is Chekhov's pistol. It will have to be fired." (p 288) I'm a fan when an author, in a story, uses a literary term, in reference to the story. It's like the author is excited to be writing this, and how it's an example of Chekhov's gun, and just has to say it.

'The strength I'm looking for isn't the kind where you win or lose. I'm not after a wall that'll repel power coming from outside. What I want is the kind of strength to be able to absorb that outside power, to stand up to it. The strength to quietly endure things - unfairness, misfortune, sadness, mistakes, misunderstandings.'
'That's got to be the most difficult strength of all to make your own.'
'I know...' (p 317) I want this strength too, but recently I feel more like a mason, laying bricks ever higher on my own wall.

"She closes her eyes, and tents her fingers on top of her desk. Like she's resigned to it, she opens her eyes again. "Who are you?" she asks. "And why do you know so much about everything?"
You tell her she much know who you are. I'm Kafka on the Shore, you say. Your lover - and your son. The boy named Crow. And the two of us can't be free. We're caught up in a whirlpool, pulled beyond time. Somewhere, we were struck by lightning. But not the kind of lightning you can see or hear." (p 319) This question just came to me, but why is it that so many 15 year olds seem to know all the answers, and as we get older, the truth seems to seep out of us? Why do we become more unsure? Is it innocence, or something else? Is it society working it's way into the all knowing soul, such that the answers it thought it knew, are no longer acceptable?

Murakami mentions 400 blows twice in the book, once through the eyes of Hoshino, and again through Kafka later on. It was weird to see those two stories blend together in this way, and for a minute I was confused, but luckily I had written where it popped up before. Pages 327 and 420 for those interested. Again, there was that weird feeling like this was somehow written for me to read, I guess I'm becoming a bit of a narcissist.

'Do you think music has the power to change people? Like you listen to a piece and go through some major change inside?'
Oshima nodded. 'Sure, that can happen. We have an experience - like a chemical reaction - that transforms something inside us. When we examine ourselves later on, we discover that all the standards we've lived by have been shot up another notch and the world's opened up in unexpected ways. Yes, I've had that experience. Not often, but it has happened. It's like falling in love.' (p 379)

'Miss Saeki,' Nakata said, 'I only have half a shadow. The same as you.' (p 391)

I was saying to a friend, how there are characters I hope die, well I actually said I hope everyone dies, and while not everyone dies, I do have to say, this is the happiest I've been with an ending in a long time. Just the right amount of people don't make it to the end, and while there are some strings that are left frustratingly untied, overall I'm really pleased.

"The beam illuminated a long, pale, thin object that was squirming out of Nakata's mouth. The object reminded Hoshino of a gourd. It was as thick as a man's arm, and though he couldn't really how long it was, Hoshino guessed that about half of it was out. Its wet body glistened like mucus. Nakata's mouth was stretched wide open like a snake's, to let the thing out. His jaw must have been unhinged, it was so wide open" (p 452) Good good, that was hard to rewrite, it's just so... yuck!

"I close my eyes and relax, letting my tense muscles go loose. I listen to the steady hum of the train. And then, without warning, a warm tear spills from my eyes, runs down my cheek to my mouth, and, after a while, dries up. No matter, I tell myself. It's just one tear. It doesn't even feel like it's mine, more like part of the rain outside." (p 467)

Overall, I don't know what I found to be so amazing about this book, I can't put it to one thing. But what I can say, is that I was engrossed, it was one of those books I couldn't wait to find out what happened next, and wanted to return to the world so badly. I wanted to swan dive into the pages, and never breach the surface back into this realm.