Urban malaise. Noir. Fragmented experience. Anonymity of crowds to the point of obliteration. Dislocation within a manufactured landscape. Dislocation within one's own life and experiences in a postmodern world. Surfaces / underworlds.

This is Abe's novel of the City. Even when his adherence to and rejection of seeming plot mechanics appear at odds, the gestalt holds this together beautifully.

ഒരാളുടെയെങ്കിലും / ഒരാളെങ്കിലും ജീവിതത്തിൽ നിന്ന് മരണം കൊണ്ടല്ലാതെ ഇറങ്ങിപ്പോയിട്ടുണ്ടോ??

ആറുമാസമായി കാണാനില്ലാത്ത തന്റെ ഭർത്താവിനെ കണ്ടെത്താനായി ഭാര്യ ഒരു സ്വകാര്യ കുറ്റന്വേഷകനെ ചുമതലപ്പെടുത്തുന്നതാണ് ഒരു ഒറ്റവരിയിൽ കഥ. മദ്യത്തിൽ ഒഴുകുന്നൊരു പുഴയാണ് ഇന്നാ ഭാര്യ.

അയാൾക്ക് എന്ത് സംഭവിച്ചിരിക്കാം? ആ സാധ്യതകളിലേക്ക് ആ കുറ്റന്വേഷകനൊപ്പം സഞ്ചരിക്കുകയാണ് നാം.തന്നെപിരിഞ്ഞു പോയതാണോ എന്നും ആലോചിക്കുന്നുണ്ട് ഭാര്യ. അതിനുള്ള closure കൂടിയാണ് ഈ അന്വേഷണം. കാണാനില്ലാത്തതിലും പ്രശ്നം അതിന്റെ കാരണം അറിയായ്മ കൂടി ആയ അവസ്ഥ.

തീയതിയും സ്ഥലവുമില്ലാത്ത ഒരു ഫെസ്റ്റിവൽ പോസ്റ്റർ കണ്ട് ഉന്മത്തനായി ആ ഫെസ്റ്റിവൽ തേടി പോയിരിക്കുമോ അയാൾ? അതോ മറ്റൊരുവൾക്കൊപ്പം നാട് വിട്ടതാകുമോ? അതോ തട്ടിപ്പ് വലതുമാണോ? ഇനി കൊലചെയ്യപ്പെട്ടതാണോ? മടുക്കുമ്പോൾ മടങ്ങിവന്നേക്കുമോ??

അന്വേഷണം മുറുകുമ്പോൾ അന്വേഷകനും വായനക്കാരും അതിനൊപ്പം മുറുകുന്ന ഒരവസ്ഥ.

ആ കാണാതായ ആൾ താനാണോ? അങ്ങനെ എല്ലാത്തിൽ നിന്നും ഒരു വിടുതൽ താനും ആഗ്രഹിച്ചിരുന്നുവോ? എല്ലായിടവും ഒരുപോലിരിക്കുന്ന ഈ നഗരത്തിൽ നിന്നും ആവർത്തനം കൊണ്ട് അരസമായ ബന്ധങ്ങളിൽ നിന്നും താനും ഓടുന്നുണ്ടോ തന്റേതായ രീതിയിൽ? താൻ തിരയുന്നത് തന്റെ തന്നെ ഭൂപടം ആകുമോ? ഭാര്യയ്ക്ക് വേണ്ടി താനെന്ന പോലെ തന്റെ ആരെങ്കിലും ആയിരുന്നവർക്ക് വേണ്ടി ആരെങ്കിലും തന്നെയും അന്വേഷിക്കുന്നുണ്ടാകുമോ?

അഥവാ അയാൾ എല്ലാം വിട്ടെറിഞ്ഞു പോയതാണെങ്കിൽ പുറകെ അന്വേഷിച്ചു പോകുന്നത് ശെരിയോ? താൻ ആരോടെങ്കിലും ഇങ്ങനെ ചെയ്തിട്ടുണ്ടോ?

നിയതമായ ശെരി തെറ്റുകളിലേക്കോ കണ്ടെത്തലുകളിലേക്കോ അല്ല ചിന്തകളിലേക്കും സാധ്യതകളിലേക്കുമാണ് അന്വേഷണം ചെന്നെത്തുന്നത്.

ഏതാണ് ശെരി? എന്താണ് ശെരി?!

ഒരാൾ അന്വേഷകനോട് ചോദിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്

A: "... We have decided that people have established residences and that we should put a chain or something around runaways neck's and bring home. But just how valid is such a concept? Who has the right to interfere with another's living and against his wishes?

B:.... "You have got to consider your obligations and responsibilities to the first place you lived"

A: "perhaps the abandonment of them itself is an act of will"

ഒരു വളവ് തിരിഞ്ഞാൽ ഉണ്ടാകേണ്ട സ്വന്തം വീട് കാണാതായിട്ടുണ്ടോ? ഓരോ break up കളിലും ഇല്ലാതാകുന്നത് അങ്ങനെ ഒരു വീട് കൂടിയാണെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നു

കോഫി ഹൗസിൽ നിന്നും ബാറിലെത്താൻ ഒരു പാരഗ്രാഫ് നടക്കുന്നത് സഹിക്കാമെങ്കിൽ പരിഗണനകളിൽ ഒന്നാക്കാം ഈ പുസ്തകം

#RollingReads #koboabe #theruinedmap

© Sisyphus Rollingstone

lmao??

То мабуть найбільш чудернацький роман Кобо Абе, який я коли-небудь читала.

Все починається як детектив - головний герой шукає людину яка нікому не потрібна, людину яка зникла півроку тому і всі навколо настільки байдужі до всього аж до неможливості. Головний герой блукає чи то містом, чи то лабіринтами своєї душі в пошуках зниклого (самого себе?).

Чи насправді пропала людина, чи просто вирішила перервати гнітючу буденність і пропасти саме для цього життя? Можливо, ми всі такі - зниклі безвісти, втратили себе або ж втрачені собою? Адже ми так часто опиняємось не на своєму місці, робимо не те, що хочемо, живемо не своїм життям, пропащі душі, блукаючі у мороці міста.

Це роман в першу чергу про самотність, про людську байдужість до інших, адже чужа людина для когось «не більше, ніж порожнеча, що зникає під ногами, подібно до візерунку на кахлі».

Прочитав эту книгу у меня осталось резкое чувство что я не поняла не-че-го! Не знаю было-ли это из-за перевода или жанр не мой... я честно дочитала пытаясь полностью погрузиться в смысл и вникнуть что-же всё-таки произошло...вообщем, извини Кобо, наши пути на время расходятся. Вот, поумнею, а потом может и пойму что вы имели в виду

Maps Of Mystery

This book is a captivating mystery novel that explores the depths of human experience and understanding.

It offers a unique departure from Kōbō's previous works and offers an insightful perspective on the genre of mystery novels. I found it interesting how it was a blend of crime fiction and philosophical musings, which created a thought-provoking reading experience.
The backdrop of the mystery adds an extra layer of intrigue to the already rich themes of self-discovery and introspection.

The writing style is rich and evocative, and the characters are well-crafted and memorable. The narrative flows smoothly and kept me engaged throughout.

The background and setting of the book are skillfully crafted, providing a rich and immersive environment for the reader.

The introspective themes that Kōbō is known for are also evident in this novel, making it an enjoyable read for those who appreciate thought-provoking narratives.

While this may not be the author's best work, it is still a worthwhile read for fans of mystery novels and those interested in exploring the human condition.

Overall, I liked it, and in no way was it a ruined book.

3.7/5

Creo que la calificación de novela policiaca no alcanza ni de lejos a describir lo que Kobo Abe logra en esta novela. La búsqueda de sentido y la pérdida del propio ser son los elementos claves en esta lectura que de seguro dejará a más de uno boquiabierto. Supremamente recomendada y espero con ansias leer más del genio de este señor.

The Ruined Map was somewhat fun and a joy to read. It was my fourth Kobo Abe book. After reading the Woman in the Dunes, the Box Man, and Secret Rendezvous, I lost hope and any interest in Abe’s work. I hated the absurdity of his writings and his erotic obsessions. I had no expectations whatsoever in the Ruined Man. But I was wrong. This turned out to be a fairly interesting and an addictive detective novel that is, for most part, rooted in reality. Almost as if written by someone else altogether. To my surprise, I liked it!

This novel tells the story of a nameless private detective who was hired by a woman to search for her husband who went missing six months earlier. Within a span of one week, the detective embarks on a mission to collect clues on the missing husband and all those acquainted with him. As he does so, he exposes few secrets of the Japanese underworld. However, unlike the more traditional detective works of the likes of Matsumoto, Higashino, and Miyabe, the Ruined Map is less about the search and more about the detective’s psychological state of mind. A major portion of the novel deals with the detective’s self-reflections as he contemplates his life in view of the circumstances surrounding the missing man's life. Although realistic, there is something surreal about this novel. I could readily see how this work could have influenced the writings of Haruki Murakami.

Despite my earlier praise, I gave this novel 3 stars. I guess it would be impossible to escape from the fact that it remains a Kobo Abe book. This was clearly evident in the final chapter and the few erotic references. The ending was too vague and too philosophical, which left me wanting for more; at least a clear conclusion to what mounted to be an elegant start. I am not really sure why the novel was titled the Ruined Map. There were no physical maps, but I am assuming it refers to how the detective viewed his life as a ruined map.

I would recommend this novel as a start to anyone who wants to read a Kobo Abe novel.

P.S. after writing the above review I think I found a possible solution to the question that Abe posited about the missing man. Simple put, and without revealing a spoiler, what the detective experienced in the last chapter is most probably the same what the man went through when he went missing.

I have yet to read a Japanese novel that is not at least somewhat bizarre and oblique. This one starts with a conventional idea -a private detective is hired by a woman to find her missing husband - but reads almost more like a surreal fantasy than a noir. The prose is spare and hallucinatory, and I admit I found it very hard to understand what was going on.

It is a book I read because I am still haunted by Woman in the Dunes... and don't like to re-read books even though sometimes a type of writer makes me salivate with cravings, like for a hamburger from Sugar Park Tavern, or macaroni and cheese, or ice cream, or more often tastes for whisky, which I view as a medicinal remedy, a preparation for the next hour... so I read The Ruined Map in preparation for the next hour... I liked the concept, but could not follow... not that I could even follow the protagonist far enough to know what on earth the ruined map was, except as an idea... my walls are full of ruined maps, and this is why I find the idea of making a line on a paper to identify a place, and therefore persons and personalities with a place in any time... very intriguing... so was this book about post-war disillusionment in Tokyo? With the burlesque charicatures as guides into self-annihilation? What? The devices are familiar: underworld lovelies, seedy... but I don't think the story had any flesh to it. The whole of the book seemed to have been forcibly contorted for the sake of the ending, which maybe came first... anyway, my temptation to re-read Kenzaburo Oe stories was averted. That would have taken far more time and concentration than I had, since I was on my way to an eventual Jane Austen, anyway, and I read Jane Austen specifically to avoid reading Thomas Mann, whom I SHOULD be reading, you see, but my craving is still exactly for Japanese writers. Also, this specific edition was printed by the Most Revered Charles E. Tuttle and Co., and the book itself was more a pleasure to hold in my hands than to read. It is just the right size, and just the right weight, and just the right paper and just the right type! I love Charles E. Tuttle and Co.!

Kobo Abe finds surreal ways to capture the absurd and existential in life. The Ruined Map is Abe’s symbolic witch hunt that includes a nameless detective looking for a missing person. At its best, this story reads like a room full of broken mirrors; everywhere you look, you see slices of your identity flashing in them. Not once does Kobo Abe’s writing grant you your complete reflection. It mirrors the dark recesses of life seen and felt in fragments, so why should it spare the consciousness that survives it?

Consider this novel a study in human paranoia. It’s disturbing, incoherent, and a bit stubborn. Halfway through the book, the story feels like it’s getting nowhere; no climactic ending, no significant revelations. Nevertheless, the story is pensive and interestingly descriptive. The ambitious metaphors, the protagonist’s stinging imagination, and the mysterious diversions. Kobo Abe pulls you in and you willingly forget your reality without knowing when.

There’s a recurring thematic structure in all his stories; mirroring vanity, existentialism, and human insolence. Perhaps it’s easier to comprehend The Ruined Map after reading The Woman in the Dunes, The Face of Another, and The Box Man. When it comes to reading Kobo Abe, I can feel the slow, embryonic catharsis of his characters. And for that alone, I’d read and re-read all of his stories.

All I can really say about this one is that it's like City of Glass, but more substantial and textured. Which is to say, the plots of the two are nearly the same--possibly incompetent private eye investigates what may be a crime, but the case is set aside in favor of an identity crisis for the narrator. The difference is that Abe at least has some good old-fashioned prose style, whereas Auster lacks in that area (as far as I can tell), among others.

A few examples, and again, these aren't supposed to be examples of Great Prose...only competent, just interesting enough to keep you reading:

"If I believed her literally--or the words she spoke to herself--within these thirty some paces an unreasonable and unforeseen event had lain in wait for him. And as a result of it he had not only disregarded the appointment at S---- station, but had boldly and irreversibly stepped across a chasm, turning his back on the world." (Interesting that the private eye seems to consider the subject's reappearance impossible, right from the beginning)

"Although it was dead winter a huge green bottlefly, slipping and sliding, was buzzing as it tried to crawl up the shade over the electric light; it kept circling around but there was no need to worry: flies know the seasons better than humans, and their wisdom is great."

And from toward the end of the book, where the prose gets a little more muddled and abstract (in a good way, if one has the patience):

"If I could get them to take her at my wife's place, the membrane between the frog's toes would be even more beautiful--like purple rubber. What was broken? What was left? Again the usual face appeared in the veneer ceiling printed with the straight-grain cypress wood . . . a laughing moon . . . why was the dream I had a couple of times a year, where I was pursued by a laughing full moon, so frightening? It was still a puzzle I could not understand no matter how I racked my brains." (This is the only place in the book that the laughing moon dream is mentioned)

And from only a few pages later, opening up a chapter:

"I could only assume someone was watching me."

So Abe does a good job of making this plot believable--you can see the narrator's gradual descent into paranoia and, ultimately, incoherence, whereas Auster gives us nothing of the sort--while providing us with some interesting scenery along the way. But seeing as it elicited from me nothing more than a shrug, I can't in good conscience recommend it to anyone.