My Strange Love Affair With The Work Of Murakami
I’m a relative newcomer in the Murakami scene. I came in only about 5 years ago. Before that I have been hearing about him from time to time. Some of my friends who read him couldn’t make up their minds whether he was good or not. Then there were some raving fans but these raving fans are raving fans of just about anything. So I didn’t take them seriously.
Problem with a book is you’re putting something inside your mind. You gotta be careful. I don’t mind putting in some bad stuff once in a while but only because I like it. I would hate to read under duress of any kind. Murakami kept evading me. When I got into running I bought ‘What I talk about when I talk about running.’ I really liked that book and will never forget the line ‘Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.’ That had the wisdom of the hills. In the coming months I read everything there was.
I have some strong opinions about Murakami’s writing. There are elements that I like, there are tropes that I am indifferent to and there are elements — like the surrealistic turns his stories often take — that I find difficult to digest sometimes. Anyway, I thought I knew enough to write a small article on the writer. I learnt I don’t remember anything.
I remembered liking 1Q84 the most. Was the girl in 1Q84 called Malta Kano? Or was it another funny name. Edamame! I went to wikipedia to check. Turns out her name was Aomame. The other thing I remember was the stairs down the flyover that led to a parallel dimension. I remembered her being a badass assassin, I remembered a bodyguard and his old-lady boss. And little men coming out of a man’s mouth. Or were they going in? I don’t quite remember. What the fuck?!
Then I started thinking about Kafka by the Shore, the other book that I had really liked. I remembered like 4 things, one of them being a cat. Then I thought about another book ‘The wind-up bird chronicle.’ Malta Kano was from there. And there was a missing cat in that. And I guess the unemployed hero goes abroad somewhere. Thing is these are some of the greatest reading experiences I have ever had. I don’t remember putting the books down until they ended. I was so lost in them, so engrossed in the worlds, I am surprised why I didn’t attempt licking the books; they were that yummy. Yet I don’t remember much from these books. I can’t forget the sullen neighbor girl from ‘The wind-up bird chronicle’ but I can’t remember much else. No dialogues. No wisdom. Which makes me wonder: What is it about these books that I really liked? And: Why are they so unmemorable?
I don’t have any real answers to my questions but I know I am quite forgetful. I tend to retain feelings more than thoughts. I can tell you how I felt while reading ‘Bear Island’ but I can’t tell you anything else about the book. This kind of amnesia is good for the wallet you might think. But that’s not true. When I read a book that I have read before I keep telling myself ‘I know this. I know this. Yeah, I know this as well. Fuck, I’ve read this before. I know this too!’ This internal dialogue eventually weans me off the book and I pick one I have genuinely not read. But about a Murakami book I can tell you this. It may not be high literature but it’s surely an experience. A very unique, specific Murakami experience. It’s very cozy.
About the writer: Manoj Shetty is a writer, director, thinker and a yoga enthusiast interested in pop-culture and slacking
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