13 posts tagged “haruki murakami”
Hear the Wind Sing begins with the narrator, aged 29, talking about writing and how difficult it was for him to finally put down words on paper. It took him eight years in fact to put down his thoughts on the summer of 1970 and the people he was involved with during that year. Why 1970? 1970 was the year after the student activist group the Zenkyoto was forced out of the building they had commandeered and soon afterwards those who had been its greatest supporters were sucked back into the system to become automatons of mainstream society. For Murakami, the destruction of the student movement left a deep wound in his being and it pained him to see his fellows go to a more conservative, rightist path.
However, within the being of the narrator it might be hard to find a politically charged individual. This is instead found within the being of the narrator's best friend the Rat. Yet, the Rat's sense of aggravation towards modern society is quite impotent, so he instead fills his emptiness with beer and liquor. The Narrator, a more introspective fellow, spends his time consumed in the books of dead writers, the memories of his dead girlfriend, and pursuing the girl with four fingers on her left hand.
At the time he wrote this thin tome, Murakami owned a jazz bar called the Peter Cat and had little time for actual writing so his sentences within this volume tended to be quite pithy. Also, the short, pithy styles of Kurt Vonnegut and Richard Brautigan influenced his writing. The book itself is more a collection of vignettes than one coherent novel and the order of the book was originally quite different that the final version.
While it does not hold a candle to some of his later works, Murakami's first novel is quite important in his body of work and it shows his early interest in such subjects as language, memory, China, and the student movement. Definitely a book worth seeking for the Murakami fan, hopefully, one day, along with Pinball, 1973, it will be given a wider release to Murakami's English reading fans." (by Michael W.)
Rating: 5 of 5 stars.
I know one thing... I truly wish to see it. Soon.
Not since Tony Takitani has a filmmaker come along who has masterfully captured the essence of Murakami's spirit of storytelling and psychological beauty. I just hope that Logevall will succeed in making a film that is not too obscure that it will be doomed to the fate of being prematurely cast-aside by main-stream critics. Only a matter of time will tell.
What a beautiful story to make into a film adaptation as well.
Impressions: Good book. Good insight. Much of the information I already knew or had picked up. Not much added to my knowledge of Murakami. To other readers, though, probably lots of new info. Not really an autobiography. More a bunch of info about the author and various quotes from interviews. A little bit about his wife who keeps even more private than himself. Interesting.
Rating: 4 of 5 stars.
I'm currently reading Professor Jay Rubin's Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words.
As Rubin went back and examined Murakami's first ever publication, Hear the Wind Sing, I was struck with an almost overpowering
nostalgia. I just had to go back and read it again. However, as earlier
mentioned in The act of stealing a book from the library is unforgivable...*,
it was a little hard to get to it. So I just ordered it online and am
waiting for it to arrive. It really is too bad that the Rat trilogy
hasn't been revisited. I admire Boku's nihilism (in its very satirical
and humorous form). And the Rat... hahaha
Hands down, I would recommend Hear the Wind Sing as the first novel to anyone wanting to begin reading Murakami. Since it has and probably never will be published in the Unites States, though, I would recommend The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle in its place.
Following Haruki Murakami's recent release, After Dark, this video soon appeared on YouTube:
Impressions: So I was finally able to devote a chunk of time to my own pleasures today and thus spent a good three hours reading Murakami's newest novella. It really is a novella. It is not a novel nor a short story nor a short-short story. The chapters are the hour and minute hands of a clock. Progressing through the story takes you through the strange and interconnected network that Murakami has created. A story all happening within 7 hours, and one that happens entirely during the night in a sort of alien dream-like city-world is exactly the type of story to set interested readers right at home with Murakami's style. The characters themselves do not posses much weight. They merely float around Mari. We never learn very much about Takashi's past beyond his upbringing. The assailed-prostitute is saved, but never revisited. The Chinese gang motorcyclist is a dark and dangerous element of the dream-world that we comprehend and must understand, but we (the readers) never feel in danger for ourselves or for Mari, Takashi, or anyone else, personally
Nihilism, hope, danger, sleep, insomnia, darkness, and identity are the elements and themes that first come back to my mind when creating a memory of the story. Murakami once again creates this small connection between strangers that is understated and small in first appearance, but is so strong when understood that words can not express the extent. This feature was somewhat limited by the novella's length, but still apparent in Mari's movement throughout the neon-lit Tokyo back alleyways and convenience stores and love hotels.
The story was a little bit pessimistic. It did end with a small sense of hope that Mari's sister was beginning to stir next to her in bed, but for the first 190 other pages... the whole book was relatively dark. I don't really understand yet what the significance of the ending is because it is very strangely constructed. I won't transcribe it here but, I don't know, it is rather hard to comprehend.
In my own reading, I made a type of analogy as such: A drowning person is going to drown. There is no escaping that fact. Looking up through the dark and murky waters, the last rays of sunshine penetrating through the cloudy waters are the last things that the person will ever live/experience/see/have/posses. And yet, here comes this elemnt of hope, this tiny thing. And this tiny thing is just one more breath, one prolonged gasp, one last lung-full of oxygen. And that's all it is. Nothing more.
Rating: 4 of 5 stars.
Here's my scan from the first edition. It is strangely exotic and appealing. It reminds of something like "acid bubble gum drop." I'm reminds of the late-night drunken pachinko parlor and convenience store-roaming in Roppongi and around Akihabara. Kind of dark and candy-like, luscious, tempting, and thirst-quenching.
Wow, that's a good advertising slogan...
Today was opening boat day down on Lake Washington. Every big-wig had lined up all their fancy-shcmansy yachts in a row and made a big to-do in prep for the coming day. Yesterday was very sunny and warm and much beer and music was being blasted around the 520 and Montlake as the Husky Crew got ready for their race. Today was a little less warm but still an awesome day on the lake.
Today I held and read probably one of the rarest Murakami writings that I ever will. In 2004 Kat Ran Press published Murakami's short story "Sleep". Of the sixty copies that were made, 15 were given to the people who worked to create the book. The other 45 were numbered from 1 to 45 and signed by Murakami, Jay Rubin, and the artist.
I visited the Special Collection/ Rare Book library today on campus and I read the book numbered 43. I'll admit that security was tight. I had to hand over all my belongings, present identification, be keyed into the room, the book had to be received from the vault, and I read the book with a pair of white gloves with the protection of foam padding to protect the cover... I felt as if I were to sneeze at any moment I would be shot on the spot.
Kat Ran included a description of the publication in a leaflet and online:
"Sleep. In the fall of 2004, the entire staff of Kat Ran Press was particularly pleased to announce the publication of its newest book, Sleep, a short story by Haruki Murakami with multi-color etchings by John Gibson. Translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin, Takashima Professor of Japanese Humanities at Harvard University and author of Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words, “Sleep” was originally published in the New Yorker and recently adapted for the stage by Complicite, the London-based theater group, and the Setagaya Public Theater of Japan. Considered by many to be Japan’s most popular and influential author, Murakami tells the story of a woman who ignores conventional wisdom by embracing more than two weeks of sleeplessness (with the aid of Anna Karenina). Composed in Dante types by Michael and Winifred Bixler of Skaneateles, New York, the fifty-six pages of Sleep have been printed at Kat Ran Press on handmade Twinrocker papers. The four etchings by John Gibson, whose paintings may be seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and the Museum at the Rhode Island School of Design (among others), have been printed by Peter Pettengill and his exemplary staff at Wingate Studio in Hinsdale, New Hampshire. The entire edition has been carefully bound in full leather and boxed by Claudia Cohen at her Seattle, Washington, bindery. There were sixty copies, of which forty-five were for sale, signed by the author, translator and artist. Alas, this title is out of print."
From my memory the leaflet at the end stated that each of the numbered 45 books were sold for $1,500.00. Also, the words were something to the effect of: "As can obviously be seen, Haruki Murakami, Jay Rubin, and John Gibson have written their signatures in their best possible hand-writing in No. 2 pencil below."
So having read Sleep again, I headed to pick up the film rendition of "Tony Takitani" because I had been intrigued to watch it too again.
When checking out the movie, the receptionist commented: "Oh, this is good" To which I excitedly replied "I know, I know!" It turned out that she was quite the Murakami-lover as well. She said that her husband collected all of his first edition books. They had both gone to Jay Rubin's discussion and reading about two weeks back. She was also inspired by his words. The translations are one thing but Rubin describes of the sensation when Murakami's works are read in original form, something that cannot be described.
She also commented that his works are some of the most stolen. I pointed out that I had recently noticed that Hear the Wind Sing had been stolen and that the Japanese original version of After Dark was listed as "BEING REPAIRED." I was able to check out the Korean version though.
It seems too long a wait. 11 more days until the English version is released. In the mean time I will try to get by by reading his short stories...
When I really got hot on reading Murakami, I had bought every published book in the United States and blasted through thousands of pages in a matter of weeks. Even after the last book, I still desired to read so much more.
Fortunately, our school has a very large East Asian library. I was able to go down into the crypts and find Murakami's Hear the Wind Sing (one of my favorite Murakami novels.) 風の歌を聞け was only published in Japan, and translated for Japanese learning the English language. It is ironic how sought out Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball 1973 are outside of Japan. You can get Pinball 1973 on eBay for upwards of 150 dollars, perhaps 250.
When I read the beginning of the Rat Trilogy, thanks to a generous donation to our library collection, it was stunning.
But when I logged on yesterday to check out the book again, I was met with a very upsetting surprise!
Asshole.
I won't be able to read the Rat Trilogy again soon, but I am comforted by the fact that there is certainly much more Murakami yet to be written and still yet to be translated.
Well, I was looking through the newspaper yesterday during work and I was surprised that Jay Rubin was giving a reading of his latest translation of Akutagawa's "Rashomon", plus his translations of Murakami, down at the Elliot Bay Book Store. I would have wanted to go... but couldn't... obviously.
At least it wasn't such a loss, though, because he came into my class earlier this Autumn. He had just finished his translation of "Rashomon", plus the 17 others, so he was in the process of translating Murakami's After Dark when he came and spoke. He lives permanently in the Seattle Sound region now and translates Haruki Murakami's works from his house. Nifty!
So, of other interest (which is of high interest at that) is an appearance by Natsuo Kirino and a reading of her new book (translated into English by Rebecca Copeland,) Grotesque next Monday.
Waiting for Murakami's next novel is killing me. The reviews,
especially from Booklist, make it sound so amazing.. I like Murakami's short stories as much as his novels, so when it is
announced that one of his works is in the process of translation, it is
a happy day for me.
Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Murakami's 12th work of fiction is darkly entertaining and more novella
than novel. Taking place over seven hours of a Tokyo night, it
intercuts three loosely related stories, linked by Murakami's signature
magical-realist absurd coincidences. When amateur trombonist and
soon-to-be law student Tetsuya Takahashi walks into a late-night
Denny's, he espies Mari Asai, 19, sitting by herself, and proceeds to
talk himself back into her acquaintance. Tetsuya was once interested in
plain Mari's gorgeous older sister, Eri, whom he courted, sort of, two
summers previously. Murakami then cuts to Eri, asleep in what turns out
to be some sort of menacing netherworld. Tetsuya leaves for overnight
band practice, but soon a large, 30ish woman, Kaoru, comes into Denny's
asking for Mari: Mari speaks Chinese, and Kaoru needs to speak to the
Chinese prostitute who has just been badly beaten up in the nearby
"love hotel" Kaoru manages. Murakami's omniscient looks at the lives of
the sleeping Eri and the prostitute's assailant, a salaryman named
Shirakawa, are sheer padding, but the probing, wonderfully
improvisational dialogues Mari has with Tetsuya, Kaoru and a hotel
worker named Korogi sustain the book until the ambiguous, mostly upbeat
dénouement. (May)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
Murakami's celebrated oeuvre falls into two easily distinguished categories: there are the broad-canvas epics (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,
1997, for example), which meld genres, distort reality, and posit
alternate worlds with abandon but do it all on the crest of an almost
Dickensian tidal wave of story. And there are the small-scale,
disarmingly intimate, almost tactile short novels (Sputnik Sweetheart,
2001, among others), jewel-like examinations of loneliness and secret
selves. His latest effort falls into the second camp: the action takes
place during one long Tokyo night, from midnight to dawn, and centers
on two sisters, one, Eri, a fashion model, does nothing but sleep
(though she may or may not drift between worlds in the process); her
college-student sister, Mari, on the other hand, refuses to sleep,
spending the night first drinking coffee in a Denny's and then in a
series of encounters with an ever-more-strange group of night people,
ranging from an introspective jazz musician to a Chinese prostitute, to
the earth-motherish proprietor of a "love hotel." The narrative flows
like a jazz ballad, excruciatingly slow yet hypnotically entrancing
("Time moves in its own way in the middle of the night," opines a
bartender. "You can't fight it"). Each character is unique in his or
her form of loneliness, yet each possesses a capacity for momentary
empathy that is both sweet and heartbreaking. Murakami's genius, on
both large and small canvases, is to create worlds both utterly alien
and disconcertingly familiar. Bill Ott
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
