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After the Quake marks my initial encounter with the works of Haruki Murakami. It is a compilation of six stories that unfold in the wake of the 1995 Kobe earthquake.
“Super-Frog Saves Tokyo” truly stands out as the gem of the collection. It is a nightmarish piece of magical realism that oscillates between humor, gravity, and the grotesque. Frog, a polite and eloquent being, is given to philosophical ponderings and literary allusions. Throughout the story, he references Nietzsche, Conrad, Tolstoy, Hemingway, and Dostoevsky. His sense of humor is also quite charming. I particularly love his indignation when imagining someone denying his froghood: “Anyone claiming I am not a frog would be a dirty liar. I would smash such a person to bits” (94).
The other five stories didn't immediately capture my interest upon the first reading. It was only after delving into “Super-Frog Saves Tokyo” that I could understand their significance within the context of the collection. While “Frog” can be enjoyed independently, the other five stories rely on the overall narrative. Together, they create a backdrop for “Frog” - a world shattered by the earthquake, a people confronted with the harsh reality of impermanence and the existential fear of meaninglessness.
All the characters in this book are broken individuals. None of them are particularly likable, with the possible exception of Miyake from “Landscape With Flatiron.” However, he too is not really likable. He is vulnerable, and my sympathy for him makes me like him a little. But whether likable or not, they are all human beings. And that is what matters. Katagiri, who wonders why he was chosen to assist Frog, describes himself as a short, balding, pot-bellied, nearsighted forty-year-old man with no wife, no children, no friends, no social skills, and no respect from anyone. And Frog replies: “Tokyo can only be saved by a person like you. And it’s for people like you that I am trying to save Tokyo” (104).
Reading these stories as a whole reminds me of the atmosphere in NYC after the 9/11 attack. The word'surreal' has never been more fitting. Those of us who were not directly impacted were still affected. As we witnessed the towers collapsing repeatedly on our televisions, our perception of what was possible and impossible was forever altered. When we gazed at the Manhattan skyline, a gaping wound stared back at us. We were all damaged individuals. Perhaps that is why I feel a sense of sympathy for the fragile Miyake and his phobia of refrigerators.
But life persists, just as it does in Murakami's stories. Although the skyline still appears amiss to me.