مراجعة وتقييم كتاب

كم أتمنى أن أقرأ المحادثات التي يجريها هاروكي مع شخصياته الروائية في دماغه العجيب، وأن أرى خياله الجامح الذي يحوله إلى كلمات على الورق. نقرأها، فيصبح اللامعقول معقولًا، واللاطبيعي طبيعيًا. نندمج معه فلا نشعر بغرائبيته، ويصبح عالمه واقعنا. إلى حد أنني عندما رأيت قطة أمام منزلي، تمنيت أن أرسل لها تحياتي على أمل أن ترد السلام، فأصبح أخيرًا شخصية في عالمه.

بعد قراءة مراجعات أصدقائي – والتي أصبحت عادة متكررة بعد انتهائي من قراءة أي عمل لهاروكي – وجدت أن أسئلتنا متشابهة، وليس لها إجابة، وأن فهمنا للأحداث يختلف حسب طبيعة كل شخص وتفسيره. الوقوع في حب شخصيات هاروكي أمر لا جدال فيه، والوحدة التي يكتب عنها هاروكي هي وحدتنا الدافئة في عوالمنا الخاصة. القوقعة التي نحتمي بها من المجتمع ليست مرضًا أو عيبًا، وهاروكي هو الأفضل في الكتابة عن الشخصيات التي تشعر بالوحدة، ويجيد التعبير عنها. لهذا فإن رحلتي معه دائمًا محببة إلى قلبي ولا تخلو من المتعة.

توقفت عن البحث عن أسئلة وإجابات في أعمال هاروكي، وأيقنت أن المتعة تكمن في الرحلة معه، وهذا يكفيني. لذا قررت ألا أضيف شيئًا على ما كتبه أصدقائي عن هذه الرواية، واكتفيت بالبحث عن إجابات هاروكي في مقابلة صحفية معه، علها تنهي معاناة الأسئلة التي لا إجابة لها. لكن وجب التنبيه أن الأسئلة قد تحتوي على حرق لأحداث القصة لمن لم يقرأها بعد، لكنها قد تكون إجابة لحيرتنا بعد انتهائنا من القراءة.
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س : ما الذي جعلك تريد إعادة سرد أسطورة أوديب؟ هل كانت لديك خطة للقيام بذلك عندما بدأت "كافكا أون ذا شور" أو هل حدث ذلك أثناء الكتابة؟

ج :أسطورة أوديب هي مجرد واحدة من عدة أفكار وليست بالضرورة العنصر المركزي في الرواية. منذ البداية كنت أخطط للكتابة عن صبي يبلغ من العمر خمسة عشر عامًا يهرب من والده الشرير وينطلق في رحلة بحثًا عن والدته. ارتبط هذا بشكل طبيعي بأسطورة أوديب. لكن على ما أذكر ، لم تكن لدي هذه الأسطورة في ذهني في البداية. الأساطير هي النموذج الأولي لجميع القصص. عندما نكتب قصة بمفردنا ، لا يسعنا إلا الارتباط بكل أنواع الأساطير. الأساطير مثل خزان يحتوي على كل قصة موجودة .

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س : في هذا الكتاب ، تشير إلى "حادثة رايس باول هيل" ، حيث فقد مجموعة من الأطفال وعيهم أثناء نزهة مدرسية في التلال. هل للتحقيقات الخيالية في هذه الحادثة أساس من أحداث تاريخية حقيقية أو قصص إخبارية؟ هل خبرتك كصحفي هي التي غطت هذا الجزء من الرواية؟

ج : أفضل عدم الخوض في ذلك
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س : قبل أن تصبح "ما بعد الحداثة" كلمة طنانة ، اكتشف فرانز كافكا حالة العزلة الخاصة المرتبطة بعالم الألفية الجديدة ما بعد النووية. هل سميت بطلك من بعده لاستخلاص هذه المواضيع ، أم كانت هناك أسباب أخرى؟

ج : غني عن القول أن "كافكا" واحد من كتابي المفضلين جدا. لكنني لا أعتقد أن رواياتي أو شخصياتي تأثرت به بشكل مباشر. أعني أن عالم "كافكا" الروائي عالم متكامل بحيث إن محاولة اقتفاء أثره ليست لمجرد العبث وإنما هي مخاطرة كبيرة بالفعل. ما أرى أنني أكتب الروايات بطريقتي الخاصة، وتفكيك عالم "كافكا" الروائي الذي كان نفسه يفكك النظام الروائي السائد. قد يلاحظ أحد أن هذا نوع من التكريم لكافكا. والحقيقة، لم أكن محيطا بماذا تعني "ما بعد الحداثة". لكن لدي شعور أن ما أفعله مختلف قليلا. على أي حال، كنت أود أن أكون كاتبا فريدا ومختلفا عن أي كاتب آخر. أريد أن أكون الكاتب الذي يروي القصص بعكس طريقة غيره من الكتاب .

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س : ناكاتا ، الشخصية الرئيسية الأخرى ، هو ضحية محبوبة لكارثة المدرسة التي لا تشبه كل من حوله. ما الذي دفعك إلى إنشاء هذا النوع من الشخصية؟

ج :أنا مهتم دائمًا بالأشخاص الذين تسربوا من المجتمع ، والذين انسحبوا منه. معظم الناس في كافكا على الشاطئ هم بشكل أو بآخر خارج التيار الرئيسي ، ناكاتا هو بالتأكيد واحد منهم. لماذا صنعت شخصية مثله؟ يجب أن يكون لأنني أحبه. إنها رواية طويلة ، ويجب أن يكون للمؤلف شخصية واحدة على الأقل يحبها دون قيد أو شرط.

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س : ظهر القطط كثيرا في رواياتك وفي هذه الرواية خصوصا تلعب دورا لا ينسى. ما هو هدفك من الوصف التفصيلي لكيفية افتراس نحات مختل للقطط؟ لماذا القطط مهمة لشخصياتك أو قصصك؟

ج :يجب أن يكون ذلك لأنني مغرم شخصيا بالقطط، لقد كانت من حولي دائما منذ أن كنت طفلا. لكنني لا أعرف ما إذا كان لها أية أهمية أخرى .

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س :يكتشف البطل "كافكا" أغنية "كافكا على الشاطئ" ويتساءل ما إذا كانت المرأة التي كتبتها تعرف ماذا تعني كلماتها. تقول شخصية أخرى "الرمزية والمعنى ليسا ضروريين هما شيئان منفصلان" بما أن روايتك والأغنية تشتركان في هذا العنوان. إلى أي درجة يحمل هذا التصريح أهمية؟ هل يشير رمزه إلى معنى أوسع؟

ج :لا أعرف الكثير عن الرمزية. يبدو لي أن هناك خطرا محتملا في الرمزية. ستشعر بارتياح أكبر في التشبيهات والاستعارات. أنا في الحقيقة لا أعرف ماذا تعني كلمات الأغنية. أو ما إذا كان لها أي معنى في المقام الأول. ربما تكون أسهل كثيرا للفهم إذا ما تعين على شخص ما أن يلحن كلماتها ويغنيها .
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س : سمعنا أن ناشر روايتك الياباني قد أنشأ بالفعل موقعا على الانترنت لمساعدة القراء لفهم الرواية.. ولأننا لا نستطيع قراءة الموقع، هل يمكن أ�� تخبرنا بشكل موجز ما هي بعض الأسرار التي احتوتها الرواية؟

ج : وصلني عبر هذا الموقع في غضون ثلاثة أشهر حوالي ثمانية آلاف سؤال من القراء وأجبت بنفسي على أكثر من ألف ومائتين سؤال منها. كانت تتطلب الكثير من العمل، لكنني في الحقيقة استمتعت به. ما استنتجته من هذا التبادل أن المفتاح لفهم الرواية يكمن في قراءتها عدة مرات. قد يبدو هذا تسويق ذاتي. لكنه حقيقة. أعرف أن الناس مشغولون، وهذا يعتمد على ما إذا كنت ترغب شخصيا بفعل ذلك. لكنني اقترح إذا كنت تمتلك الوقت أن تقرأ الرواية أكثر من مرة. ينبغي أن تكون الأمور أكثر وضوحا في القراءة الثانية. أنا بالطبع قرأتها وكتبتها عدة مرات، وفي كل مرة أفعل ذلك ببطء لكن بالتأكيد تبدأ وتنتهي كلها بتركيز حاد.
تحتوي "كافكا على الشاطئ" على العديد من الألغاز لكن لا يوجد أية حلول مقدمة. بدلا من ذلك ثمة العديد من الألغاز المجموعة، ومن خلال تفاعلها تأخذ إمكانية الوصول إلى حلها شكلا ما. وهذا الشكل الذي سيتخذه الحل سيكون مختلفا من قارئ لآخر. وبعبارة أخرى تعمل الألغاز كجزء من الحل. من الصعب شرح ذلك ولكن هذا هو نوع الرواية الذي كنت مستعدًا لكتابته.
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أخيرًا، كانت تجربة ممتعة جدًا. سأبحث عن إجابات لبعض الأسئلة في الرواية بدافع فضولي ووسواسي، رغم أن أي إجابة لن تؤثر كثيرًا على حبي للرواية. أما هاروكي، فإن واقعيته السحرية تختلف كثيرًا عن تلك التي تميز المدرسة اللاتينية؛ فهي تحمل لمسة من الجنون الذي ينفرد به هاروكي وحده عن غيره. وكالعادة، اقتباسات هاروكي رائعة وإبداعية، وكنت أتمنى أن أضمها للمراجعة، لكنها كثيرة جدًا :)

تتقاعس الكلمات عن وصف أسلوب الرواية العظيم ....هاروكي موراكامي اسم لم أقرأ له من قبل ياللخجل....أحتاج لبعض الوقت كي أستفيق من تأثير الرواية الأفيوني وما فعلته بي من خدر ونشوة ثقافية تغلغلت أحداثهاالى فكري المتواضع اذا ما قورنت ببراكين الكاتب الثائرةالخلاقة.......رواية هاروكي تضمنت ثلاثة أحداث تسير في خط متواز ولكنها تتقاطع في نفس الوقت .....انقلابه على السرد النمطي حدث جلي بحد ذاته....... جمع من خلالها المتناهي واللامتناهي في صور جلية.... قسم أشخاص الرواية الى عالم اتسع للجميع فمحدودية الفكر لأشخاصها متاحة المسافة بنفس المكان والزمان لمن يمتلك عمقه وهذا الاتساع في الفجوة صنع تناغما من سحر الطبيعةالبشريةيتحقق به التوازن القدري
....رواية تقرأ ولا توصف ........رائعة

Buckle up to experience extremely confusing, mind numbing, vivid, compelling, controversial, wild ride!

Don’t let simple, plain writing style fool you! Get ready for the bombardment of whirlwind journey between different genres including fantasy, magical realism, fiction and get drown in the sea of allegories, metaphors, vibes of
Shakespearean plays, Greek tragedies, amazing mash up of Eastern spiritualism meets Western philosophy!

The book needs to be read more than twice! If you deeply get connected with the characters and visualize yourself in their places, you feel like you’re teleported to Terry Gilliam movies’ surrealistic worlds and after a few rides later you find yourself dark humorous, complex Cohen Brothers’ rug, flying with Big Lebowski, waving to the people, questioning yourself which part of is a dream and which part is pure reality!

I enjoyed this ultra complex, brain cell frier journey even though I have more questions than appropriate answers!

My favorite quotes of the novel are:

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

“It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory,unhappiness a story.”

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.”

“In everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive.”

“Even chance meetings are the result of karma… Things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

This is not really a review. My actual review is on GR, HERE.
This is a collection of notes on the features and themes of the story/stories, so beware of moderate spoilers.

Kafka and Nakata

Kafka is a 15-year old runaway from a wealthy but dysfunctional and unloving home: his father is a famous sculptor, but his mother and elder sister left when Kafka was only four. He has had no news of them since and can’t even remember his mother’s face.

Nakata is an old man, of very limited intelligence since a strange childhood accident (The Ricebowl Incident). He’s largely content with his solitary life, but he does regret losing the ability to read, and says one time that he’d like to be normal, even briefly, reminding me of Flowers for Algernon (see my review HERE).

Kafka’s story is told by him, in the first person; Nakata’s is in the third person, reflecting how he refers to himself.

Despite the title, and the name Kafka has chosen, this isn’t a Kafkaesque story. However, in Czech, Kafka sounds like the word for crow or jackdaw, and in this, Kafka’s alter-ego is “the boy called Crow”.

Other important characters

•tSakura, a young woman, slightly older than Kafka.
•tMiss Saeki, enigmatic head of the Komura Memorial Library.
•tOshima, a young man who works at the Komura Memorial Library, and takes Kafka under his wing. He’s especially knowledgeable about ancient Greek and Roman philosophers and likens himself to Cassandra at one point.
•tHoshino, a truck driver, who sees Nakata as something of a replacement for his beloved grandfather.

Although it’s primarily about the connections and contrasts between Kafka and Nakata, there’s a similar dynamic between Nakata and Miss Saeki. In particular one has only memories, while the other has almost none, but they both have half-strength shadows.

Themes in this novel

•tMemories: A blessing or a curse, whether absent or omnipresent.
“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”

•tLabyrinths: Kafka’s father sculpts a series of that name, Oshima schools Kafka in the etymology, and the forest is labyrinthine.
“The prototype for the labyrinths is, in a word, guts. Which means that the principle for the labyrinth is inside you. And that correlates to the labyrinth outside.”
“This forest is essentially a part of me… The journey I’m taking is inside me.”

•tMetaphors: Oft mentioned, not just guts being a metaphor for a labyrinth. Colonel Sanders tells Hoshino not to look for metaphors everywhere, while Oshima points out prophecy will always be fulfilled, even if metaphorically.

•tShadows and ghosts: Associated with self, mind, soul, and memory. There are people with half-strength shadows and a ghost of someone still alive. The latter is an idea explored in The Tale of Genji. See also my review of The Shadow, HERE, inspired by another Murakami.

•tFate, omens, prophesy and chance encounters: They recur in many ways, most ominously, how the sculptor carves the prophecy into his son.
“The omen is still with me, though, like a shadow.”

•tOedipus: This novel retreads aspects of the Oedipus myth, but it’s too heavy-handed. At one point, Crow literally rattles off a checklist.

•tLibraries: There’s a love for the tranquil sanctity (the only place a child can hang out, no questions asked, at no cost), and sadness at the loss of literacy.
“There’s a library far away… but there aren’t any books in it.”
It holds memories: see my review of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World, HERE.

•tMusic, film, and food: There’s plenty of all, including classical music. Given the overt Oedipal theme, I smiled when Prince’s “Sexy Motherfucker” was mentioned.
“Do you think music has the power to change people?”
It certainly changes Hoshino.

•tBlood: There are three instances where blood is crucial to the story: a teacher’s unexpected period; killing cats for their souls, which leads to the killing of a man, and a few drops of blood willingly proffered to give someone escape. There's also a character who's a haemophiliac - though it plays no part in the plot.

•tFire: Things are burned for symbolic, sacrificial destruction.

Questions

I don’t want answers to everything, nor tidy endings, but there were several aspects where I wonder if my understanding fell short, or if Chekhov’s gun was deliberately not fired:

•tTalking with cats: what fun that would be. But it’s oddly central and yet almost irrelevant to the plot. I guess it chimes with the Sphinx (a sort of big cat) in the Oedipus myth.
•tFish and leeches falling from the skies feels Old Testament plague territory to me, but probably not Murakami. They were fun, and showed a character’s accidental power, but I’m not sure if there was more to them than that.
•tColonel Sanders and Johnnie Walker: Murakami likes unexpected references to Western and pop culture, but I’m not sure if there was particular significance in the aliases chosen by those two characters.
•tLightning: one character was struck by it and another interviewed such people for a book, and…?
•tThe soul flute… where to begin?

Murakami bingo - in general

First, a list of 10 common themes, HERE. I think this book scores 9/10.

Or if you prefer illustrations, Grant Snider’s is well-known, and I think this scores 22/25:


Murakami’s portrayal of women

Always a troublesome issue. The main characters are usually men, and ones who objectify women, often in especially inappropriate ways (older man and a teen girl, for example, though not here). The women often have an air of mystery, bordering on manic pixie dream girls, and feel more like ciphers than rounded characters. However, many of them turn out to have agency, and they are always central to what happens.

In this particular novel, the Oedipal theme necessarily involves taboos. There’s also a non-violent rape scene - but it’s explicitly called out as wrong, even though it’s a dream.
“In dreams begin responsibility.”
There’s also sex with someone who’s asleep, so can’t consent, and that again, is flagged as wrong.

This novel is nearly 20 years old (first published in 2002), and its portrayal and easy acceptance of a trans man is ahead of its time. At one point, another character says “I suddenly remember that he’s a woman” - an utterly plausible inner thought about someone they care about.

A couple of women checking out the library’s facilities from a female point of view makes for an awkwardly comic battle of wits: the women are mere caricatures of feminists, and stumped when it’s pointed out that unisex loos/bathrooms are totally normal in contexts such as aeroplanes.

Here are thoughts on the subject from a Japanese bibliophile, "Acts of Recognition: On the Women Characters of Haruki Murakami", by Mieko Kawakami, HERE.

Quotes

•t“In a place where time isn’t important, neither is memory.”

•t“There’s another world that parallels our own, and to a degree you’re able to step into that other world and come back… But go past a certain point and you’ll lose the path out. It’s a labyrinth.”

•t"Most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out from between their pages - a special odour of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers."

•t"That's how stories happen - with a turning point, an unexpected twist. There's only one kind of happiness, but misfortune comes in all shapes and sizes. It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story."

•t“The hands of the clock buried inside her soul ground to a halt.” [after a sudden tragedy]

•t“While they’re still alive, people can become ghosts.” [the “living spirits” of the Tale of Genji]

•t“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.”

•t“Words have all died in the hollow of time, piling up soundlessly at the dark bottom of a volcanic lake.”

•t“Unimpressive thunder, a lazy dwarf trampling on a drum… [then] a regular downpour, wrapping the world in a wet stuffy smell.”

So, yeah, I don't really understand this book.

It is not often that I admit a book has defeated me intellectually; upon the rare occasion that it happens, however, I will admit it. This review is, like any review, a meditation on the unique experience I had reading the book, but it is also ruminations about why I feel that Kafka on the Shore is a mountain whose summit I never reached.

I'm starting to suspect that I have a penchant for magic realism. On one hand, the term smacks of genre-snobbery, a label that authors or critics use to avoid consigning a book to the ghettoized fantasy section of the bookstore. On the other hand, the term is seductive. It represents a flirtation with the fantastic that, when done well, forces the mind to reconcile contradictory realities. Think n  The Enchantress of Florencen or n  The City & The Cityn. Fantasy is the outright alteration of the laws of physics; magic realism is the collision of physics with the other, as well as the appropriation of the laws of narrative for the characters' own purposes. Kafka on the Shore exemplifies the headache-inducing experience of a well-executed piece of magic realism. It seems, unfortunately, that this was a little too much for my poor mind to handle.

Wired as it is to unravel fact and fiction, my mind constantly tugs me toward the question of, "How much of what happens in the book is meant to be considered 'real events' and how much is a delusion or metaphor?" But I don't think that question is correct—or at least, the way it is formulated seems to imply a separation of the real from the metaphorical is possible. Maybe it is not; therein lies the headache.

Example time. Late in the book, Kafka has a dream that might not be a dream in which he has sex with Sakura, a young woman who might or might not be his long-lost (adopted) sister. Kafka's search for his mother and sister, who left home when he was a child, is a major part of the book, one that deserves heavy discussion itself. This particular scene troubled me. It was more confusing than disturbing. While clearly starting as a dream, the language sometimes made it sound like it was a dream dialogue—Kafka and Sakura were sharing a dream, in which they had sex. I think it's possible to interpret it either way—nothing later in the book seems to contradict either interpretation. What I cannot place is the metaphorical significance of this scene, though I am certain one exists.

Central to the problem is the so-called "Oedipal prophecy" handed to Kafka by his estranged (or merely strange?) father, who may or may not be a cat-murdering flute-carver posing as a conceptual imitation of Johnnie Walker. When he leaves home, one of Kafka's objectives is to find his mother and sister, though he has no information about them, no names, just a photograph of the family at the beach. Now, Kafka is fifteen years old and makes it clear that his hormones are right on track for a boy his age. So when he starts entertaining sexual fantasies of Sakura, who is about the right age to be his sister, he has to wonder if she is his sister. Receiving an actual hand-job from Sakura later in the book does not simplify matters. Still, there are mitigating factors: despite his fantasies, we don't actually have confirmation that Kafka ever has intercourse with Sakura. And even if she is his sister, she was adopted, so the incest taboo's squick-factor is lessened.

No such comforts exist for Kafka's relationship with Miss. Saeki. Like Sakura, we never find out if Miss. Saeki truly is Kafka's mother (I would argue that the implication for the affirmative is stronger here than in Sakura's case, but I think Murakami deliberately left it ambiguous). Unlike Sakura, Kafka does have sex with Miss. Saeki—first in a dream-like but real episode which Miss. Saeki does not remember, then subsequently in a deliberate episode that they both, at least at first, regret. Although Kafka dreads his father's prophecy, and although his operating theory is that Miss. Saeki is his mother, he still decides to sleep with her.

I don't know; thanks to John Irving (particularly n  A Widow for One Yearn), the whole motif of older women having sex with younger men disturbs me. By motif I mean that the actual idea of such of a relationship does not disturb me, but the use of it in literature, particularly as a device for ending a character's innocence, does disturb me. Kafka seems very nonchalant about his relationship with Miss. Saeki—not exactly resigned, but not reticent either. This analytical, calm aspect extends to his personality in general: aside from some notable exceptions, such as when he wakes up with blood on his shirt, Kafka is a mellow individual. He does not rage. He just accepts and thinks. It is fine for a character but odd for a fifteen-year-old boy, and it makes Kafka feel a bit less real. (There I go using those loaded terms again.)

Oh, and there is a whole other side to this book that I have yet to mention: Sakuro Nakata. I have to confess that I preferred much of Nakata's story over Kafka's (with the exception of the Johnnie Walker chapter). Nakata and Kafka both have a similar acceptance of events as they happen, but Nakata seems to have more will than Kafka, who spends most of his time moping around the library and listening to a record. Nakata takes up a traditional-style quest, leaves the only home he has ever known, falls in with a companion (some might say disciple) and experiences change. Conversely, Kafka strikes off on his own immediately, but he shies away—leaving the forest—from any final fate. Nakata gains peace; Kafka matures.

Nakata's encounter with Johnnie Walker causes me as many headaches as Kafka's dream about Sakura. Are we supposed to equate Johnnie Walker with Kafka's father? I don't know. Johnnie Walker and Colonel Sanders seem like two sides of the same coin, a self-identified concept that can assume forms but not manifest in any physical way. If that is the case, then Nakata could not possibly have killed Johnnie Walker—but perhaps Johnnie Walker is a concept connected somehow to Kafka's father, and killing the concept killed the man. See? Metaphysical dilemmas for which Murakami has no answers.

Not that I'm demanding answers. Books that seek to provide an answer to every little question end up laden with excess exposition. Moreover, Kafka on the Shore is not a straightforward narrative, and that is probably for the best. Murakami has taken a standard literary fiction plot, that of the adolescent runaway, but instead of exploring it on the standard plane, he takes it into higher dimensions. Still, there are some questions that really irk me. Exactly what does the "Crow" character represent? Part boy, part bird, all a figment of Kafka's imagination . . . there's probably an essay somewhere in here about "representations of anthropomorphic animals in Kafka on the Shore," if someone has not written one already . . . but I digress.

No, the reason I feel somewhat defeated is because I can't seem to settle on any consistent set of interpretations to the symbols Murakami has left in his wake. It is frustrating, because I can recognize the intensity of Kafka on the Shore, but I cannot celebrate it. The metaphors add depth to the story, yet my inability to parse them prevents them from turning the narrative into a coherent whole. In short, I read the book, but I did not really get the book. Nor is it that there is, in fact, nothing to get; Kafka on the Shore is not a con (well, no more than any fiction book is). I get just enough to glimpse enlightenment and know it exists, but I can't quite achieve it.

One day I hope I will find more in this book than the first time. I often find that, with difficult books, sometimes multiple readings are the only thing one needs—that and the time to grow, to change, to be a different person from the one who read the book the first time. Future Ben may see the subtleties of Kafka on the Shore with greater clarity than this version of me, and he might life at my incomprehension (or, hopefully, not).

So I cannot leave you with my impression of this book's literary merit (what does that even mean?). However, as the parenthetical question in my previous sentence indicates, I can say that, if it did not provide me with many answers, Kafka on the Shore did provoke me into asking more questions. This is not a book that fits into a comfortable niche, either for the purposes of comprehension or for criticism. We need books like that, even if we don't entirely know what to make of them.

n  n

n  n

ربما لم يكن كافكا هو أول من وقف على الشاطىء فقد وقف على نفس الشاطىء من قبل اسحق نيوتن و غيره من العظماء
ربما لا أكون ذكيا كفاية لأفهم هذه الرواية المعجزة بالكامل و ربما سأحتاج لقرائتها مرات أخرى و بالتأكيد ستظل ممتعة و رائعة فى كل مره
كيف فهمتها الأن و هل هذا فعلا ما أراده موراكامى
لا يهمنى ما أراد ففهم الرواية هو دورى أنا كقارىء و ليس له دور بعد أن أتم الكتابه

ربما هو يتحدث عن الإنسان فى مسيرته منذ فجر التاريخ و حتى مراهقته التى يمر بها الأن و كأنه فتى متمرد عمره خمسة عشر عاما قتل أبيه و دنس أمه و أخته
قد يكون الأب يرمز إلى الرب و الأم للأرض و الأخت بباقى حيوانات الأرض ا��تى شاركتنا المسيرة كالأسماك و العلق المتساقطين من السماء
و مثلما أمرت الأنسة ساييكى بإحراق ذكرياتها و مثلما كان الكلب الأسود و الكولونيل و الجنديان يشددون على عدم النظر أبدا للخلف و لا يتلفتون أبدا للوراء
فربما كانت النصيحة هى أن نحرق الكتاب الذى ربما أراد به الدين و ربما الخرافة و ربما التاريخ و ربما جميع ما من شأنه أن يجعل حياتنا نمطية و نحن فيها كالقطار الذى يمر على القضبان بانتظام و يدهس كل ما فى طريقه
بدأ الإنسان ذكيا ألمعيا و لكنه صغيرا ضعيفا يحتاج إلى الرعاية و منذ أن حدث له هذا الحادث فقد فقد قدرته على القراءة و العلم و لكنه اكتسب قلبا يتسع للجميع و لا يحمل ضغينة لأحد حتى أنه أصبح يستوعب قطط الشوارع
لكن جموح المراهقة و تمردها و الرغبة فى التحرر من السلطة الأبوية مع غياب دور الأم و ذوبانها فى صراع الحياة المرير فى عصرنا الحديث جعل الإنسان الذى ما زال فى عمر المراهقه بنهمه و قدرته على المعرفه و اصراره على أن يكون الكائن الأقوى يحرق كل المراكب فى طريق اللاعوده
يخلط موراكامى الأساطير بالحقيقة و الفلسفة بالفن و المعقول بالامعقول و يجعلك تحبس أنفاسك منذ البداية و حتى اسدال الستار

لا أدعى أننى فهمت كل شىء أو حتى ما فهمته صحيح و مترابط و لكننى استمتعت كثيرا كما لم استمتع منذ زمن بعيد

You’ll need to suspend belief when you read this novel. It’ll also help if you don’t look too closely at the plot nuances surrounding some of the wackier characters you’ll meet along the way. But do this and I’d hope, like me, that you’ll be swept along on an extraordinary journey. First and foremost it’s an enthralling story with compelling lead players (Nakata being my personal favourite) but it also reveals some interesting ideas and insights and asks the reader some challenging questions. It’s entertaining and it’s thought provoking, what else can you ask for?

Murakami’s work is frequently surreal and this novel is no exception. In common with some of his other books, there are two stories here told in alternating chapters. These eventually interlink to bring some clarity (but not total clarity) to the broader tale. There are components I’ve seen before from Murakami: references to whiskey, the detailed preparation of meals, cats, jazz, classical music, Kafka (though not in such an overt way as you might imagine), a search for something, death, parallel worlds and the inner self. It strikes me that the author is like a chef who is constantly using favourite ingredients to make a variety of meals; each meal has echoes of the others but the overall taste, the aggregate experience, is different.

I’ve sometimes used Jay Rubin’s book, Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words, as a point of reference in reading Murakami’s fiction and it does help to draw out some of the messages I might have missed or perhaps highlight sections I’ve misinterpreted. Rubin is a long time translator of the author’s work (though not this book). Of course, this isn't a prerequisite to ensure enjoyment of the authors text, but it does help dimwits like me.

It’s been suggested that this novel is a spiritual sequel to Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. Well, it might be... there are certainly similarities in the way the book is structured and in some of the themes contained in the narrative. Either way, I loved this book and would highly recommend it to seasoned Murakami aficionados or first time visitors to his mysterious and wonderful world - it's as good a place to start as any.

Utterly stupid book.

Perhaps Murakami had achieved such an iconic status by the time this book came out that he allowed his arrogance and egotism to overpower his common sense. In this self-obsessed careless mess, Murakami has failed to give any consideration for the precious time of his potential readers (especially new ones).

I can understand all the raving and good reviews are coming from Murakami fans who are used to his style and would read any shit written by him out of loyalty, but to a lay reader like me who chanced upon this book to take a break from well-written classics this was a terrible experience. Why on Earth did I venture to read this crap? (Note to self: Stick to renowned, dead authors and next time do quit the book if you don't like the book. Don't be a I-don't-leave-books-halfway-kind-of-guy)

The chapters alternate between the stories of two seemingly connected characters: a 15-year old jack-ass named Kafka whose lame, anatomical description of his surroundings makes you want to put a bullet in your head and an old slug called Nakata who is plain dumb and is not afraid of mentioning it to everyone he meets. "Sorry dear cat, but Mr. Nakata is dumb. Nakata can't read. Nakata can't write," converses the old Nakata with seemingly intelligent cats, while he predicts weather patterns which involve raining of leeches and fishes from the Japanese sky.

At once the book was enticing to me, I thought, there must be a great amount of parallelism and metaphor in the story and it would be royal to crack all that symbolism. But half way through you become sure it's not going to make any sense, and the author does a terrific job by making a stale curry out of it. I'd say perhaps multiple readings of the book, galloping everything written by Franz Kafka, gathering knowledge of Japanense history/spiritualism might reveal the connections and riddles that are running about in the book, but the reader must have a lingering interest to re-read the book. I didn't have any stamina to bear the prose written by a teenager anymore, so I'm glad I finished the book. And let's forget the story/plot for a moment because all great novels are not primarily known for their stories. But this doesn't even have half-decent prose. It's like a failed play where shallow characters read mechanical lines over and over.

Brimming with grossing out incest sex, characters who can't stop showing off their knowledge about jazz and literature, and the author stepping in his characters time to time to throw out some forced metaphor at the poor reader, 'Kafka on the shore' is a neat mess. I sincerely hope that the Great Franz Kafka must have felt much disturbed in his grave on the publication of such adulating, sucking-up work.

Final Verdict: Read it if you're a hardcore Murakami fan or you're a lazy teenager who will bite into anything that's thrown at him/her.

Edifyingly Strange

Yes Murakami is weird; and coincidence reigns; and there are nuances that only the Japanese can comprehend. But somehow each of these potential flaws adds to his charm as a writer and the mystery of his stories. I highly recommend Google Earth to follow the action and get a sense of each location.

This is my first Murakami, and I already know that it won't be my last.

This is one of the strangest books I've read. It stretches the boundaries of belief, and when it breaks through into the realm of pure magic, we discover the journey has only begun.

The story is told from two different perspectives. In the first, Kafka Tamura is a fifteen-year-old boy who runs away from home to escape a terrifying prophecy that he will kill his father and sleep with both his mother and sister. Eventually, he ends up at a library and gets tangled up in a complex web of lost love, fate on loop, and ghosts. The second relates the story of Nakata, a mentally simple old man who gained the ability to talk to cats after an incident in his childhood. Following a fateful encounter, he too journeys across Japan, picking up along the way a young truck driver as a companion.

As someone who's never taken philosophy beyond what was required of my Government major, I suspect that much of this book was way over my head. But keeping that in mind, I couldn't stop reading this book unless it was absolutely necessary (namely to sleep, eat, and work) and when I wasn't reading it, I kept thinking about it.

This is not a straightforward book. Much of the novel reads like a patchwork of unrelated scenes and conversations. Some scenes are brutal, some are mundane, and others are achingly lovely. The narrative never loses its dream-like feel, and sometimes it seems like you're walking straight into a nightmare. But within the gentle chaos of the narrative runs a common thread that loosely ties everything together by the end. It's kind of like going to a therapist and revealing your deepest, darkest, most confused thoughts: the images and thoughts you relate are seemingly random and unrelated, but they are exceedingly personal and are somehow are still a grand part of one somewhat unified, coherent thing within you with all its problems and complexities.

I thought a lot about the story, and constantly tried to make connections between events. I read much of this novel on a lawn chair, lazing in the sun, with the sound of the wind in my ears, or at night, with the window wide open and the cool silence wrapping me in a cocoon. The quiet inactivity of both the world around me was the ideal way for me to really get into the story. Though some might disagree, I think the uncertainty makes up a part of the fun of reading a book like this--being driven by curiosity to piece the puzzle together and the satisfaction of resolving a part of a somewhat vague image. Some might find the process tedious, but I never felt bored once while reading. Because despite the unassuming, dreamy narrative, Murakami's words pack psychological punches that hit you when you least expected it and throw your emotions into a flux more than once.

Overall, I would highly recommend this novel. I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but even so, I would still recommend that people give this book a try. The book is weird. Really weird. But it's a powerful story that will, at the very least, challenge one to think about this very strange, very familiar world.

5 STARS AND HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

بين الواقع و الخيال ، بين عالمنا و عالم الخوارق يوجد خيط رفيع شفاف و قد أتقن موراكامي أن يصل بينهما و يحيك عالما كاملا بقواعده الخاصة.

" يختلط الواقع بالأحلام مثلما تتدفق معاً مياه البحر و الأنهار.. . . "

و كالعادة من الأفضل ألا تعثر علي المنطق في كتابات موراكامي فقط دعه يسبح بك في عالمه الغريب.
" فتفكير بلا جدوي أسوأ من عدم التفكير ."

بالرواية خطين زمنيين يسيران معا يتداخلان و يتفرقان و يكمل كل منهما الاخر:

- فتي في الخامسة عشر يقرر الهروب من بيته و أن يستقل عن ابيه الغريب القاسي ، و ليحاول العثور على امه ، تسير حياته علي خير لفترة ، حتي تبدأ المفاجئات القاسية الغريبة في الهطول عليه.

-رجل عجوز في الستين لديه إعاقة ذهنية و يعيش علي المعونة من البلدية ، و لديه بعض الهوايات الغريبة منها مثلا محادثة القطط ، يعيش حياة بسيطة حتي يصل إلى عتبة بيت رجل سيغير حياته.
و هذا العجوز شخصيتي المفضلة بلا شك