it's difficult grouping books together (and harder still to find snappy titles for the categories) - these are all modern "serious" writers from asia (defined to fairly broad terms - i intend to include at least japanese and turkish works).
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after finishing this book, maybe half an hour ago, i clicked through a few reviews on the 'net. i was surprised to find that the author was born in 1949 - i want to say that i'm surrprised because it feels much younger, but i'm wary about making vague statements that might be hard to justify. certainly the plotting isn't very sophisticated, a whole bundle of threads are left unravelled. there's also an over-indulgence in one tiring adolescent character, although she gets some of the best lines:
... Sometimes, when I'm looking at you, I get this feeling like maybe you're fighting real hard against something for me. I know this sounds weird, but when that happens, I feel like I'm right with you, sweating with you. See what I mean? You always look so cool, like no matter what happens, it's got nothing to do with you, but you're not really like that. In your own way, you're out there fighting as hard as you can [...] in a way, you probably are fighting for a lot of other people at the same time you're fighting for Kumiko. And that's maybe why you look like an absolute idiot sometimes. That's what I think, Mr Wind-Up Bird. But when I see you doing this, I get all tense and nervous, and I end up feeling just totally drained. I mean, it looks like you can't possibly win. If I had to bet on the match, I'd bet on you to lose. Sorry, but that's just how it is. I like you a lot, but I don't want to go broke.
which screams out "raymond chandler" (it turns out that murakami has translated chandler to japanese) - this is post-modern noir, but much more enjoyable than the new york trilogy.
incidentally, look at the language in that passage above. does it feel lie a translation? jay rubin kicks ass.
returning to the book - why, despite the messy organisation, is this such an engrossing book? there seem to be two general, and one more personal, reasons.
first, there's an undeniable energy in the way the book flows. maybe this freshness is payback for the untidy structure; it is easy to imagine the author sitting down with little more than a sketch of the plot and simply forging ahead, striking out in a new direction when bored, rely on instrinct and wit to keep everything together. one author that did (according to a radio interview i heard on the bbc) work like this was douglas adams; there is a curious similarity in their haphazard, naive style (despite such different intentions in their work).
second, this is a traditional battle between good and evil. better, the good guy is mr average - someone i, at least, can easily identify with. murakami uses japanese and russian war atrocities as an ample source of evil, but while they work well (the peeling of a human's skin is a pretty good candidate for an evil act, after all) the lack of any explicit connection back to the modern-day, malevolent, dream-like world in which the hero fights his final battle is one of those annoying loose ends i mentioned earlier. perhaps it's obvious if you know more of the social context?
finally, the third, more personal explanation for why this novel seemed so appropriate is connected with the way in which the passing of time becomes part of the story. i think it's unfair to call the hero passive, rather he exploits the idea that time can heal. he accepts the flow of time; more than that, he finds its flow soothing and this seems to be the source of his strength. for me, this is reassuring, as i sit here between jobs, trying to find a new balance.
now all i need to do is write a concluding paragraph that ties the threads of this review into one nice coherent whole. i can sympathise with murakami.