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.
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.
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