The Awakening and Sleep

I really enjoyed how many of the works we read complemented other readings on the syllabus. I know that was the point of the course but in the specific instance of The Awakening and "Sleep"not only did the themes line up but so did the titles. Chopin's story  was about a woman who "wakes up" in her life emotionally, spiritually, and sexually. Murakami's story is about something similar. A woman wakes up in her life to find something is missing only she literally wakes up and cannot go back to sleep. In her state of wakefulness she develops herself as a person and does what she wants. Her life begins to extend further than just a mother and a wife. She does things for herself. It's a modern (non sexual) telling of Chopin's story. And interestingly enough, both stories end on dark notes. In The Awakening, she kills herself and in "Sleep" she is stuck in a car being rocked back and forth by people on a dock. It is also interesting to look at both women's connection to the water around them. It gives them both power but in the end also leads to their destruction.

Murakami's Writing and Twin Peaks

One of my favorite shows is Twin Peaks which was produced and directed by David Lynch. The show lasted only two seasons, from 1991-1993. The show is about the murder of the town's darling, Laura Palmer. The main character, Agent Dale Cooper, is in the FBI and comes to this small community nestled in the woods near the Canadian border to solve her murder. The show begins in the genre of fantastical realism but as the show goes on it gets stranger and stranger. I re-watched this series alongside this course- not on purpose but it ended up being a really interesting outcome.. Murakami was living in Cambridge in 1993 and I wonder if he crossed paths with Twin Peaks at all, or enjoyed any of David Lynch's movies. There are many, many similarities in tones and of characters. Twin Peaks, one could argue, is almost like a televised version of Murakami's works. It is a mystery with a detective and an everyday sheriff working side by side. There are hints of magic, aliens, and there are more than several sordid affairs. The music in the show is a haunting jazz music that would easily appear in the background of the adventures in a Murakami novel.

The 100% Perfect Girl short film

I thought the short film we watched in class of "On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl" was a perfect representation of the short story. It captured the whimsical voice of Murakami and put strangely beautiful visuals to Murakami's strangely beautiful writing. The main character perfectly acted out the tone of the story and I loved seeing the girl pass by him multiple times. While Murakami doesn't write that she passes his vision a dozen times, it was great interpretation of the text. The story of him thinking of her over a period of several pages is a similar process as seeing her walk by dozens of time. I also loved at the end when they pass by each other and they look at each other. The film was in black and white but I loved that when they run into each other again they turn into different colors. The colors complement each other until they both turn into their own colors again and part their separate ways. I also thought the music in the background captured the feeling of the story. I don't know if I can make it any more clear that I loved this story.

The Metamorphosis and "Samsa In Love"

I absolutely loved reading The Metamorphosis and "Samsa In Love" together. I had never read The Metamorphosis before and was actually very surprised by it. It was not at all what I expected it would be and the ending caught me completely off guard. To be honest- I thought there would be a little more introspection about humanity and what Gregor's transformation meant from his own point of view. But I suppose the genius lies in the family's reaction to his metamorphosis. He continually tried to show them that he was still consciously Gregor by keeping away from them and trying to be conscientious of his sister's space, but still they chose to believe that there was nothing left of Gregor in the insect's body. One of the reasons I loved "Samsa in Love" was that it acknowledged the humanity and consciousness of all beings. In Kafka's story, Gregor is a conscious being as a human AND an insect. In Murakami's story he is an insect that has a consciousness as a person and it seems that he has had a consciousness as an insect as well before his metamorphosis. There are new dimensions to what he does and does not understand but he isn't shocked by conscious thought. It was a really interesting comparitive look at consciousness in Kafka's work.

Chloe's post #6 (of April 29)

 I’m really, really glad I took this class, because it expanded my thoughts on Murakami’s writing. I was actually afraid that perhaps I would grow to dislike it because it became required reading for me, but in fact the class gave me more insight into his style and background. For example, when I read his novels, I don’t usually look up the references he makes in music or otherwise. And that was fine because I still derived meaning from his works. But when we listened to the songs he mentions, I’ve come to realize that it really does add to my reading experience. I also highly enjoyed reading his influences, especially Salinger, Chandler and Auster. To be honest, there wasn’t a reading that I disliked. For my final assignment I chose to write a short story in Murakami’s style, which proved to be more difficult than anticipated. It’s still not as I’d like it to be because my own voice comes out. I don’t think I can describe scenes, objects, or people quite like Murakami can – he’s so detailed and there’s always this uncanny feeling that this could happen to you. But for what it’s worth, I put a cat, a disappearing woman, cigarettes, a strange birthmark and a fetish in.

Chloe's post #5 (of April 29)

            I really enjoyed reading Ghosts by Auster. The colors as names threw me off in the beginning because for me, it dehumanizes them. It’s like having numbers as names. Of course after a while I enjoyed the use of color and name play. Perhaps it was a hint on Auster’s part that Black was White, but I’m still grappling with why Black/White hired Blue in the first place. He says something along the lines of, “He needs to see me to exist,” which I thought was thought provoking. And indeed, Blue’s life is turned upside down after he becomes engrossed in watching Black/White. The idea of the double that Murakami so loves can be clearly seen here. As the story progresses, the reader forms doubts because Black/White’s actions mirror his own! I was hoping that the story that Blue read in the newspaper about Gold and the boy would tie into Blue’s narrative, but alas, Auster leaves us wanting. I thought that maybe the boy that was murdered wasn’t actually murdered, because Auster specifically states that the boy would be Blue’s age in present day. Furthermore, he says that Blue and Black/White appear to be the same age.

Closing Thoughts

This class has given me a new-found appreciation for short stories. The amount that Murakami and the author's who have inspired him are able to pack into two, three, five, or fifteen pages is astounding. I have loved diving into the worlds they create for or fifteen or twenty minutes and coming out of it with a slightly altered perception of the world; with a new experience in my pocket. I hope to continue reading more short (and long, and very long - 1Q84...) works by Murakami and to continue to explore more of the works that have shaped his own writing. It has been wonderful to dive into these short, different worlds and also to string them together.

Color and Murakami

I found this article with images of art-work inspired by Murakami's writing. Some of it was a little eh, but some of it was really wonderful. What I find more interesting than the artwork itself, is the specific moments and ways these artists have chosen to portray Murakami's work. Particularly interesting are the colors people chose to use. Most of the illustrations were done in muted tones, which begs the question, what is it about Murakami's writing that elicits that? I then thought about my own way of picturing the events that unfold in his writing and I think I too often picture his world in a slightly desaturated way. Yet, there are moments where his imagery is vivid. In the scene in Norwegian Wood where Watanabe eats a cucumber with Midori's dad, the color of that cucumber stood out to me as particularly vivid and green. I think that like Murakami's style, which mixes a sort of mundane blandness with an air of magic, the colors that his writing brings to mind are overall muted and often interspersed with vivid sparks.

The article I referred to: http://flavorwire.com/220451/art-inspired-by-the-work-of-haruki-murakami/10

Matter-of-Fact and Confusion

In an interview with The Paris Review Murakami says of his own style: "The story is very complicated and very hard to follow. But my style, my prose, is very easy to read." I definitely agree, and I think that's a big reason as to why his writing is so compelling. He truly creates a beautiful balance between Boku's almost dead-pan voice and straightforward observations and the spider-web like complications of of his plot - and on a bigger scale, life. In a way, Murakami's writing (and specifically his main character) categorizes and clears up certain of life's mysteries all while creating new mysteries in the text for readers to categorize and clear up themselves. 

Closing Thoughts

When I first read The Wind Up Bird Chronicle, the very first Murakami book I touched, I was enthralled. His rich imagining of a corner of history I was unfamiliar with, the aggressively mundane but endearing main character, the countless plot developments and characters that just kind of made me tilt my head and go "huh"? I was worried for a time that the more I read of Murakami, the less his magical little worlds would impress me. Hard Boiled Wonderland failed to grip me the way it seemed most readers, and I wondered whether Murakami was just a one trick pony. I haven't really found that to be the case after taking this class, however. There's plenty of similarities in his work, from character archetypes to specific images, and yet I think Murakami has managed to keep writing without getting stale. There's a real sense of maturity, a confidence of voice, that I find in novels like Wind Up Bird and Tsukuru Tazaki that I don't feel as strongly in A Wild Sheep Chase. I've really enjoyed getting to explore Murakami's voice in his short stories, in the works that inspired him, in the strange little films that have been made based off his work. It's shown me that even though Murakami largely retells the same couple stories over and over, he's able to find new ways to do it, and that there's something that remains impossible to nail down about his writing after all these years.

Post 5

I recently read Murakami's memoir What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. It was strange to read Murakami without the lens of fiction between the two of us; I found myself giving small jolts while reading it just because I'd remember that it wasn't Boku telling me these things. I think Murakami is a fun author to try and interpret through his books, namely because of their strangeness and the reappearing motifs and themes throughout his career. Murakami descriptions of running routines and diet regimens do sound remarkably like something that would come out of Boku's mouth. One element I found especially interesting was in a passage where Murakami recounts the experience of running an ultramarathon (a measly 64 mile race). Things get properly weird around the halfway point of the race. He says: "I felt like I'd passed through something...like my body had passed clean through a stone wall...After that, I didn't have to think anymore". He continues to discuss the total absence of thought and self he experience during that time, and I was just struck by the remarkable similarity to one of his numerous "other worlds," where our main character crosses over from one reality--state of being, what have you-- into another more surreal world. Murakami doesn't define what the specifics of his turning point/ specifics here, but it does clearly seem to be happening. It's interesting to read the sort of fantastical, surreal language associated with Murakami's fictional worlds used to describe his actual life.

Post 4

Murakami's use of music has always stuck out to me. There's very little about his stories that makes me go "ah, yes, here is something that I recognize as firmly belonging to my world".  Areas of Tokyo and Japan at large have no special meaning for me, and while I recognize some of the references to books, I've seldom actually read them. Contrast this to when we hear a song like Norwegian Wood repeatedly played, or Bob Dylan is discussed, or John Coltrane inevitability appears somewhere. These are sources I am familiar with, and when I'm not, their music is only a google search away. Scenes gain a new richness when the writer is kind enough to provide you with a soundtrack. My reading of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage was greatly enhanced by listening to the Franz Liszt's piano pieces that featured prominently in the book. It's sad and strange and unusual sounding, so of course, it's right at home with Murakami.

Blog Post 3

(Realized I forgot to do this post) I found Murakami's The Mirror to be quite engaging and rather unique amongst his other works. The reader follows one character throughout the story and the character directly speaks to the reader. This work also contains "detective-fiction" elements as you are trying to figure out the cause and situation the janitor is in. I actually find Murakami's short stories a lot less confusing than his novels as he tends to reveal more of what the theme/idea of the story is.  In The Mirror, the story was ultimately based on the idea that the scariest thing in the world is perhaps oneself. There's an ominous feeling when reading The Mirror; however, there's no actual monster within the setting, it's all in the character's/reader's mind. I think a lot of Murakami's works deal with the happenings in the mind: fear, lust, love, imagination, they all start within and then are exploited in our reality.

Alison Post 6

Looking back on this incredibly fun and interesting course and on the roster of Murakami's works that we read, many things stand out to me. However, one aspect of his works that stands out to me as being especially unique to Murakami is his emphasis on loneliness and isolation. Murakami also tackles many other important themes, such as reality or identity, but I have never encountered an author for whom loneliness was such an integral part of so much of his catalogue. His writings are full of protagonists who do not seem to define themselves in relation to others, who get by for the most part on their own, yet for whom companionship is still important. Boku of Norwegian Wood spends many of his days alone throughout the story and lives by himself eventually in his little house, yet, for example, eagerly anticipated the days upon which he would meet with Naoko, visit her near Kyoto, or receive a letter. Colorless Tsukuru's whole plot revolves around an individual who finds himself shunned by his friends. This focus is in short stories as well, like with the woman who suddenly loses the ability to sleep and discovers happiness in life reading and having time to herself. Of course, one cannot forget Tony Takitani who lives life contently alone until he meets his wife, then goes to pieces once she is dead and he is alone again. Murakami does engage with many themes, but this one of loneliness and isolation seems particular to him. Humans frequently define themselves in relation to others, so a focus on individuals who in some way appear to exist outside of this seems interesting, and may even be a way to probe human nature and identity. For me, at least for now, Murakami is who I will turn to when I want to experience his wild worlds but also to experience the realities, whether good or bad, of loneliness and isolation.

Final Blog Post

After taking this course, I feel like I have a much broader understanding of modern Japanese Literature, and also of Murakami's works and inspirations.  Examining his various short stories and novels, and especially going the extra mile and comparing them to his influences in order to search for examples of intertextuality, has made me a better and more enthusiastic reader.  Murakami uses intertextuality in an extremely unique way that I've only seen in his works; he uses blatant references to titles and characters in order to clearly convey a certain other text, and then slides more subtle references to style and themes throughout the story.  I found this to be the most noticeable in 'Samsa in Love', where the obvious references to Kafka's 'Metamorphosis' led me as a reader to automatically be immersed in the story as both 'Murakami's short story about a bug waking up as a human,' and as 'some sort of continuation of 'Metamorphosis' in which the world that Kafka initially created gets expanded further'.  That alone made the experience of reading the short story much more complex and interesting, and in both regards Murakami did not displease.  He created a unique and engaging short story, and simultaneously left the vague little hints he always does that gave a peek into the world behind the story that 'Samsa in Love' and 'Metamorphosis' share.

As a final note on this blog, I want to say that this class has given me a new, modern look at Japanese culture that I hadn't been able to enjoy previously, and I'm very thankful for the fun and intellectual experience.  In the future, I hope very much to be able to further explore Japanese literature.

Blog Post 5

Although I've confusingly called this Blog Post 5,  it's really the sixth and final blog post I'm writing for the class. So anyway, I read a Murakami story that was translated by Philip Gabriel for The New Yorker sometime in February 2015. Here's the link to the story.

Kino is about an unsociable, quiet bartender who sounds a lot like Murakami himself. In this story, a bald man with bluish skin starts coming to the bar. He sits in the same seat and follows a strict, inconspicuous pattern of drinking whiskey, reading, and paying for his beverage in exact change. In college, Kino was a sports salesman: "“Do an honest job and it will pay off” was the slogan of the company’s founder, and that low-key, somewhat anachronistic approach suited Kino’s personality."
Kino enjoys the job and doesn't quit until he finds out that his wife is having an affair with his friend from work.

That brings us to Kino's bar, also called Kino. Murakami describes the man's mood when he first opens the bar: Like dry ground welcoming the rain, he let the solitude, silence, and loneliness soak in. He listened to a lot of Art Tatum solo-piano pieces. Somehow they seemed to fit his mood." The depiction of Kino's reaction (or lack thereof) to his wife's affair feels very Murakami-esque. Additionally, the main character claims to have done nothing productive in his life so far.

But somehow, Kino's bar is strangely comfortable. Of course, this phenomena of extreme comfort is first discovered by a stray cat. As with The Wind-Up Bird and other novels, cats seem to clue into things much faster than people ever do.

Anyway, there's lots of music in this story - "Georgia on My Mind," Erroll Garner’s “Moonglow,” Buddy DeFranco’s “I Can’t Get Started," to name a few. Most of the small conversations Kino has with others are about music. The strange man in the story has an unsettling glittering in his eye, and so does the woman Kino sleeps with. Oh, and there's also a willow tree.

Blog Post 4

After reading all of the various works of Murakami's that we have had the opportunity to enjoy this semester, I feel as if his writing spans and blends numerous genres.  Almost in line with my idea that Murakami's stories are written for the reader to take their own meanings and interpretations from, I also think that his genre is so 'in-between' specific, pre-existing genres that it's almost up to the individual reader which genre it really is.  For example, taking 'Norwegian Wood' at face value one might label it as 'realism,' but if one chooses to think that the sanatorium is Murakami's 'other world' trope, and that Naoko and Reiko are already dead when he meets them there, the genre changes to 'magical realism' or 'magical surrealism'.  One could even say it's a mix of 'realism' and 'magical realism' if they wish to interpret it as such.  Murakami's individual works have so many possible interpretations that even the genre of a piece as a whole is difficult to define, but I also think that aspect gives each work a unique charm too.

Blog Post 3

I found Murakami's use of music in his works to be rather unique, whenever I came across them over the course of this semester.  While I have occasionally seen references to specific real songs in various literature before (though that occurred rarely as well), I don't recall ever seeing the specifics of real performers or groups being used in conjunction with that.  Murakami, however, can be seen to do that in 'The Girl From Ipanema' and 'A Wild Sheep Chase,' where he mentions both the specific song, and the specific performer/orchestra playing them.  I think this conveys his intent for the reader to actually take the time to listen to the exact performance his wrote about, in order to more clearly convey the situation and mood of the scene in the story.  While I may not use this tactic in my own writing, I certainly think it is an interesting and useful one to learn about, and furthermore as a musician I enjoyed being able to hear the specific references myself.

Blog Post 2

When reading Murakami this year, I found his style of writing to provoke thought in a rather unique manner.  By being vague about meaning while being straightforwards with facts he is able to set the reader's mind on a course to explore and search those facts for meanings.  Despite whether the work is more realistic like 'Norwegian Wood,' or more surrealistic and fantastical like 'The Strange Library,' this technique remains prevalent.  For example, by the end of reading 'The Strange Library' my mind was full to bursting with ideas about how the various events in the book could be connected to form some overwhelming conclusion about the symbolism of the dog, the mother, and the library itself.  Of course, there aren't any end-all be-all conclusions to be found, which I think is another tactic Murakami uses.  If he remains impartial to specific meanings for the entire book, it allows the reader to formulate their own unique meanings separate from Murakami's intentions.

Blog Post 5

I came across an interesting thesis by Ida Mayer called "Dreaming in Isolation: Magical Realism in Modern Japanese Literature" while exploring Murakami's heavy use of isolation in both short stories and novels. We've talked a lot about isolation and loneliness in class, both physically and emotionally prevalent in Murakami characters. Before entering another world, characters must often go through long periods of isolation (and monotony) where they become completely removed from societal responsibilities or commotion.

Murakami says that when he is writing, the characters live inside of him like a kind of cosmos (The Paris Review). He also provides this illuminating metaphor about the writing process, which might explain his strict daily routine:  "Every day I go to my study and sit at my desk and put the computer on. At that moment, I have to open the door. It's a big, heavy door. You have to go into the Other Room. Metaphorically, of course. And you have to come back to this side of the room. And you have to shut the door. So it's literally physical strength to open and shut the door. So if I lose that strength, I cannot write a novel any more." (The Guardian)

Mayer's thesis explores how isolation facilitates dreams. With Murakami, we know that actions taken in dreams often translate to real life. So why does being alone make it possible to visit other worlds, or the cosmos in one's subconscious? According to Mayer, "There is a supernatural element in Murakami’s work, but equally important is the ordinary world, so the supernatural element in Murakami’s literature, in turn, empower[s] the hidden aspects of ordinary life, which nobody really cares [about]. The dreams serve to highlight the overlooked elements of the mundane world, which the authors argue are both crucial and ignored."

Blog Post 4

            How do images change the way we read? In The Strange Library, for example, images play an important role in storytelling that few modern-day writers incorporate. I always wondered why not, especially because playing with images in the short story I wrote for class was so much fun. Although arguably every Murakami short story and book leaves you a little bit befuddled, The Strange Library pulls you back. It’s one of those stories you want to re-read as soon as you reach the last page. And not just for the words – for the pictures as well. In the original editions of The Strange Library, even the font color and type seem to be chosen with special attention to visual communication. With this novel more than others, Murakami leaves readers unsure what to do with what they’ve just read in the most endearing and magical way.

            For me, the imagery in the book added a layer of unspoken communication. Each picture was an opportunity for me to explore its details and placement in the storyline. It felt like Murakami’s written story swept me along for the ride, whereas the images were chaotic, appearing without explanation as if in a real nightmare. Murakami captured a sense of chaotic randomness and repetition that made the boy’s nightmare come to life on paper. I think without those stark, haunting and unexplained images disrupting the text, I wouldn’t have felt as close to the story or the boy in it. I’m curious how Murakami went about gathering visual elements for The Strange Library, especially the illustrations that were chosen.

Blog Post 3

            Since I missed a couple of blog posts, I'm going back through my notes and reflecting on stuff we talked about in class. One theme that always interested me in Murakami books are the author's depiction of daily life, monotony, and routine. Naturally, I went online and tried to glean some information on what Murakami’s daily life is like. I was surprised to see that Murakami was interviewed and featured in a book called Daily Rituals: How Great Minds Make Time, Find Inspiration, and Get to Work: How Artists Work by Mason Currey. To Mr. Currey, I respectfully suggest using shorter titles in future books.

            According to Currey, Murakami wakes up every day at 4:00 AM and works for five or six hours straight. In the afternoon, he runs or swims (or sometimes does both). Then he takes care of errands, reads, and listens to music. Murakami is in bed by 9:00 PM, when I’m usually starting to think about dinner. In 2004, Murakami told The Paris Review that he’s stuck to this exact routine for a reason: “The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind.” This is fairly unsurprisingly, first because most of Murakami’s characters follow a similar routine. But I have to admit, it sounds a bit like getting hypnotized. Murakami’s emphasis on repetition can be seen throughout his works, too. We’ve been maddened as a class by “Murakami-esque” elements that seem both completely random and central to the story. Why melted almonds in the story Alison translated? Why lemon drops, birds, talking cats, or any of the other red herrings sprinkled throughout Murakami’s works?

            When foolish interviewers try to parse out which details are symbols, Murakami provides no answer. To borrow Murakami’s words, maybe it’s just the repetition itself that matters. Murakami never claims that any of his writing, symbols, or literary explorations are meaningful at all. It’s up to the reader to decide. When experiencing the routines of Murakami’s characters, I do feel that it has some kind of strange, mesmerizing effect on me. In Colorless Tsukuru, the main character wonders how much time is wasted commuting, waiting, or otherwise meaninglessly spending time. Murakami’s exploration of repetitive daily life reveals that what many people consider to be meaningless and everyday is not only fascinating, but otherworldly.