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.

Blog 6 Final Thoughts

It's not usual that I get to take a class on a more contemporary writer, which automatically made the class interesting from the beginning. I took this class because I've read some of his novels but got the sense that I wasn't getting the full value in his works. I wanted to know more about what's going on in Murakami's mind.

After taking this class, I realized that there are many ways to read/analyze his stories. For instance, it's interesting to see that there is a pattern of women being unable to speak, or that men often have trouble communicating with the women. For my second paper, I wrote about the taxi scene in the opening chapter of 1Q84. I read the text once, purely for enjoyment. This time around, even though I only read the opening scene, I felt that I was able to appreciate the story on a much deeper level. Who knew that the music playing in the taxi would align with Aomame's feelings, or foreshadow her long journey? I think the biggest thing I got out of this class was that Murakami had created a story where you could either enjoy the story on a surface level, or really dig as deep as you want and discover some more possible meaning behind his words.

Also, the second time around reading Norwegian Wood made me appreciate the novel even more. I really loved how Murakami wrote the scene of Hatsumi's death; the flashback made for such a wonderful way to tell her story. Murakami is not scared to talk about death; he talks about the things that are often not talked about. There is a pattern of young people committing suicides due to their inability to live in a world where their innocence no longer shields them.

Lastly, taking this class as an elective for my English minor, made me become really interested in Japanese culture. After trying out Japanese food, seeing the slideshow of photos in Japan and simply learning more about the culture in class, I now really want like to visit Japan one day! Perhaps, I'll also run into Murakami.

Final Thoughts

Before this course, I had only read a few pages of 1Q84 and didn't really know what kind of author Haruki Murakami is; however, through reading his various works I've been thoroughly surprised, engaged and informed on why Murakami is such a renown author. I initially approached Murakami with a realistic lens but in turn, I was surprised to find mystical elements combined with a deeper metaphorical narrative. It was interesting to see the various sources Murakami was influenced by and makes me wonder how much of literature itself is interconnected.
I found myself quite engaged since much of Murakami's work takes you on an unexpected journey. I especially enjoyed The Strange Library and found the surrealism captivating--seemingly streams of imagination representing truths about life. It also made me wonder how much of Murakami's own personal life struggles were placed in these works, does Boku reflect an aspect of Murakami? Also, the references to politics and Japanese history seem to suggest that Murakami is using literature as a platform for social commentary. The references to specific music and right-wing figures are all intricately laced into a magical story--I don't think I would have noticed it if we didn't go over it in class! Through studying Murakami as an author that is influenced by various works, I've gained a greater appreciation towards his literature and a greater interest towards foreign writers as well.

Charmaine - Final Thoughts

Before this semester, I had always seen Murakami's writing as magical realism, and hadn't questioned this author-to-genre association. In this past semester, as I continued to read more Murakami as well as compare his work to those of other authors, whether he drew inspiration from their writing or not, I found myself questioning whether it really was as cut-and-dry as that. There were so many sides to his writing that it was hard to pinpoint whether one could simply associate him with just one writing genre. And delving into the books even more had allowed me to enjoy Murakami's work at a deeper level, better understanding so many aspects to each individual novel as well as his writing as a whole.

However, in the end, I still believe that Murakami's writing is mostly magical realism, with hints of other genres here and there. 

In my final paper, I focused on Murakami as a magical realist, and how his writing portrays his own, original form of the genre. Drawing examples from two of my favorite Murakami novels, A Wild  Sheep Chase and Kafka on the Shore, I tried to elaborate on the points in which I thought made his writing specifically magical realism. In this way, I also found myself learning new things from each novel. During the process of writing my final essay, I was inspired to go back and re-read the Murakami novels I've already read before, as well as continue reading more of Murakami's works, so that I can further develop my understanding of his writing that I've enjoyed so much of since I was first introduced to his novels.

Ty - Final Thoughts

For my final paper I decided to look at the connection between Norwegian Wood and The Great Gatsby in more detail.  In class we were only able to bring up a vague memory of what Gatsby was like, but after rereading most of the book it quickly became clear to me how much these novels are connected.  Toru mentions The Great Gatsby  multiple times throughout the novel and the reasons behind it were made much clearer to me after I reread some of the scenes.  The argument in the hotel between Tom and Gatsby stood out to me as very similar to Nagasawa and Hatsumi's argument at the restaurant.  The topic of this argument, the fact that those not closely involved were not allowed to leave, and that the characters were stuck in a car with one of the arguing people afterwards all stood out to me.  I'm glad I was able to look at The Great Gatsby again since the first time I read it I did not pick up on as many themes and key lines as I did this time.  Comparing authors and how they influenced other people was a really interesting part of the course and I'm glad that we did it.  I had never compared how works influenced each other in a class so it was a new experience.  I'm glad I took the class.

Leyla's Final Post

All semester I’ve been thinking about the connection between Murakami’s writing and contemporary art. We examined this somewhat in our discussion of postmodernism, but couldn’t entirely assign that label to Murakami’s style. In art, we have currently moved even beyond postmodernism, and I think Murakami is even more at home here in this post-post mishmash of ideologies. Here’s what I’ve been able to distill: Murakami’s work reminds me of current art in its fluid subjectivity, its denial of meaning but paradoxically inherent poignance, and the unobvious way in which that meaning is conveyed or withheld. There is also a certain transparency of material, which has been a theme in art movements since impressionism. We are made aware of the fact that this is writing, maybe even writing for writing’s sake, the same way that impressionism embraces the physicality of paint. The viewer is not presented with the closest imitation of the reality of an object, but a painting of an object. In Murakami, cadence, word choice, incongruous subject matter chosen for the pleasure of its depiction, these seem to be on equal footing with content or message. 

Murakami’s work, just like so much art today, abhors didacticism. It’s meaning is elusive and possessed of many multivalent interpretations. It occupies a space between mundane reality and the realm of magic, psychology and imagination. And Murakami himself seems to subscribe to that opinion that art is best left unexplained and thus untainted by its author, owing a much greater portion of its creation to the constructions of its audience. 

On Murakami Adaptations

After having watched snippets of a few Murakami stories that have been adapted for the screen,  I've found myself wondering what the key to a successful adaptation of his style is, and whether it's a style that can really translate to the screen. I'm a huge film lover and I try and resist the notion that adaptations are always inferior, or that there are stories that are supposedly "un-filmable", but even I have to admit that the flighty, aloof surrealism of Murakami seems to be the most magical on the page rather than on the screen. The adaptation of All God's Children Can Dance is a prime example of this; what feels magical and downright cool on the page ends up feeling plodding and pointless on the screen. It just feels like any one of the many dime dozen directionless indies that one can watch, entirely lacking that special Murakami pizzazz.

The film version of Tony Takitani, however, is a much more interesting, far more watchable adaptation of Murakami's work than All God's Children. There's something about Tony Takitani that just works. Maybe it's the stylish shot compositions, the camera moves that glide from left to right, scene to scene. Or maybe its the way characters will complete the narrator's next thought via dialogue, or the confident pace the story allows itself to unfold, or some other hard to define aspect. Just like the source author's style, maybe it's that hard to define aspect of the Tony Takitani film that makes it a success.

Final Thoughts

I always loved Murakami novels but never really knew why. I read Kafka on the Shore, 1Q84, Norwegian Wood, Sputnik Sweetheart, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Colorless Tsukuru, and a couple of his other famous works for fun. Now, I feel like I need to go re-read every book that we didn't finish in class. I missed so many details and probably read his books a little too casually in my spare time, since I didn't always unravel the complex layers of his stories. I always liked how Murakami's narrators were straightforward and no-nonsense, jumping straight into the story without questioning the leeches falling from the sky, disappearing cats and people. Although I was more or less aware of the magical realism in Murakami books, I never really gave much thought to his Japanese characters cooking spaghetti or the intertextuality of his works, or really anything that we talked about in this course.

The highlight of this class for me was definitely learning about Murakami in the context of translations. It never occurred to me that the works I was reading were translated. I enjoyed nit-picking at Jay Rubin's word choice, and learning about how difficult translating a text really is. Comparing Murakami's works in different languages, as well as getting to look through physical copies of his novels in their many different printed editions really changed how I read my favorite author's books.

When giving my mom a short synopsis of the course, I gave her the same example of falling snow we heard in the Tales of Genji translation talk. Japanese is a vertical language, English is horizontal. That structural difference alone, disregarding the two separate languages and their individual complexities, can change how people read and interpret the text. I also showed her how Murakami's books look completely different from country to country and edition to edition. This class really shed light on the translation process, as well as how Murakami was influenced by other famous writers. Reading those stories in the context of Murakami made me realize that I'd been more or less reading his books with my eyes closed!

Finally, thanks Professor for bringing us delicious food and heaps of Murakami books to look at. Getting the chance to look through many editions of his works, especially the ones with illustrations, was a bonus that I didn't expect from this class.

Murakami, Intertextuality, and the Novel Form

I guess I come back to my first thoughts on Murakami's textuality and the historically cyclical nature of what form writing has taken. While a relatively recent form, novel and fictional short story writing has arguably sold itself on each example being novel in the sense of uniqueness. The questionable nature of this truth comes out in much of Murakami's intertextual writing. Intentional or otherwise, there is an extent to which the structurally or thematic elements both parody and celebrate the uniqueness of the novel.

I say parody, but I use the word loosely to describe how easily and even humorously  narratives and story elements can be mimicked and rearranged to creates something structurally similar and yet completely different. But in this same process of creating a different story, the uniqueness of the novel seems to be celebrated, even if the repetition of structure should make it seem otherwise.

Final Blog Post

Despite being a huge literature nerd and having an intense for love for anything Japanese, it's weird that I have never read any Murakami's works until this semester. The first time I have ever heard of him was when 1Q84 came out, and while the novel interested me, I never picked it up. I also didn't know that Murakami took so many inspirations from Western Literature. As I read more of his works, I noticed he uses a distinct pattern. The main characters are usually the ordinary type of people with special traits or some grand destiny that they must fulfill. His Boku's tend to be discontent with their current lives, although they don't realize it, and it's through a series of bizarre circumstances they go on a journey that changes them forever. But it's not the grand journey that makes them a typical "hero", it's a quiet, internal journey that makes Boku have a realization about himself and life. Murakami also likes to make the endings of his works unclear because it's a reflection of how life works. There are no definite answers to life, and his novels like to reflect reality, despite the reality-bending events that happen. Those bizarre circumstances highlight the unpredictable nature of life and the monotonous nature of the life his Boku's live before their transformation.