Of Two Minds

I am into my third Haruki Murakami book, and though I have not read enough of his works to truly give an informed opinion (and even if I had, I would not have the analytic wherewithal to do so), of the three that I have read there seems to be a commonality between them all; two worlds. The two spheres of existence that feed upon each other. The protagonist's real world is a fractured, painful, imperfect one, and the escape into his alternate and ultimately more fruitful one is fraught with battles both with the self and others. That is not to say that the alternate is perfect, it just seems to hold more answers to the more pressing questions, and permits behaviour and ideals that reality places restraints on.

I find his books a consuming read because he truly mystifies me as to when and how the worlds are intertwined and I have no choice but to finish. His books are surprisingly easy to read even though they are dense, multi layered and at times metaphysical I cannot help but to continue reading, and the pay off is always as good as promised. I think it is the scifi, curious nature in me that likes his books. His insight into human motivations and riddles are full of "light bulb!" moments that never fail to make me want to pick up another book, a pen, music and delve deeper. Into what? Of that, I am not sure.

Brief, but Packs a Punch

Aphorism: A tersely phrased statement of a truth or opinion; an adage. (American Heritage Dictionary, online). Twice, the term "aphoristic style" is used to describe the works of author Akutagawa Ryunosuke, first by Murakami Haruki in writing the introduction to the collection, and again by translator Jay Rubin. It tells you how lousy my vocabulary is when, I am truly sorry to say (mum, dad forgive me!), the term totally escaped me.

Akutagawa was a short story writer from the early 20th century Japan, who's writing style varied from classical-style short stories in his early career to more introspective tales in his later life. One of Japan's most noted authors (indeed Murakami places him in the top 10 Japanese authors of all time) he penned pieces that captured the darker zeitgeist of the times, with themes that were often macabre but fantastically morbidly humorous as well. He lived a relatively short but fruitful life, having left behind a legacy of over 150 short stories when he committed suicide at the age of 35.

To be honest the only reason I picked up the book was the blaring title Rashomon emblazoned on the front. I first encountered Rashomon as a play performed my sophomore year in college and was immediately enthralled and fascinated by the point-of-view ambiguity of the tale, which was at the time quite reminiscent of the most important thing I learnt in psychology that year: time dilutes memories. It turns out that my now favorite Japanese director Akira Kurosawa had directed the film on which the play was based. As I just learnt a week ago, Kurosawa based the film on two short stories by Akutagawa; Rashomon from which the director took the title and the setting, and In the Bamboo Grove, from which the tale of four characters all describing the same event, each with their own version of the truth, evolves.

Akutagawa has this enviably marvellous gift with words: he is able, without much ado or fuss, to tell a complete story using the simplest of words. He creates a whole immersive world with meaning, texture and depth with such deft conciseness that is thoroughly complete with no extraneous fat or filler to bog down the story. Each story packed with little kernels of truth about human foibles, both real (including his own) and imagined, I almost felt bereft when the stories came to an end. Sharp and brutal in what can seem to be an appallingly lackadaisical manner, one sometimes gets the feeling he sees you---even though he is well and truly gone--- a little too well.

By far the best story in my opinion was Hell Screen. The tale of an arrogant court painter, Yoshihide, and his twisted relationship with the king he serves. For Yoshihide to complete a painted silk-screen for the king he requests that a woman be burnt alive. The passage that follows below absolutely exemplifies Yoshihide's character in such amazing form. The very picture of a man who's art reigns supreme in his heart above all else.

Yoshihide---who only a few moments had seemed to be suffering the torments
of hell---stood there with his arms locked across his chest as if he had even
forgotten the presence of His Lordship, his whole wrinkled face suffused now
with an inexplicable radiance---the radiance of religious ecstasy. I could have
sworn that the man's eyes were no longer watching [...] dying in agony, that
instead the gorgeous colours of flames and the sight of a woman suffering in
them were giving him joy beyond measure.

This collection runs the gamut of his career from his first story to his last, bringing many of his works to a Western audience for the first time and including some of his autobiographical pieces. It includes a lot of his well known stories as well as a few of his less obvious hits, but all 18 stories serve to give a well rounded picture of Akutagawa's stylistic brilliance.

Reading this collection of short stories makes me realise what an absolute Philistine I am, because the book serves to remind me what delineates true intellectual (not me) from the pseudo ones (I wouldn't even be able to qualify for that either). These stories, while easily digestible, invite the reader to reflect and revisit the tales (which I'm doing now). I can't say any more than go read it. I guess I should try and learn to be a tad less effusive and a bit pithier with my words, see if I can apply aphorism to my writing (that means I have to learn how to get rid of brackets like this one. Wish me luck...).

5 out of 5 If only I could be 1/100th as good!

What is it with Oedipal Complexes That Make Such Good Fodder?

My first book review. Yay! So anyways while browsing through a thread on Dramabeans website, she mentioned author Haruki Murakami as her favorite of all time, considering her good taste in TV, it certainly piqued my interest but it didn't make a lasting impression, or so I thought. I must have stored it somewhere in the back of my mind, because walking past a display in the central library, his name pops up as I walk out the door, and a couple of days later I borrow Kafka on the Shore (I was actually supposed to be attending an art function next door at the museum, but I was more amused than amazed so I wandered through to the library instead).

Two different, slightly out of sync lives sharing the same story make it for an interesting read. The first tale is of a boy named Kafka, runs away on the day of his fifteenth birthday under a foreboding curse bestowed on him by his father and winds up at a library run by the mysterious yet alluring Miss Saeki. He goes on to befriend Oshima, the ostensibly male librarian who works there and reads all sorts of great books and works through some serious issues. The second is about Nakata, an elderly gentleman, who due to some accident is unable to read or write, but possesses the uncanny ability to speak to cats and so supplements his government "sub city" by finding lost cats.

This is the first book that I've read in ages and in that I managed to finish reading it in two days (in between a whole host of other things going on in my life that i won't get into now) and kept forging on through some intensely depressing scenes, means only one thing: The book was damn good. Murakami was able weave fantasy, modern life and the (definitely) surreal into an intense, gripping read that constantly keeps you reaching for understanding until the very end. He adds touches of whimsy and humour that had me laughing in the middle of a train @ 6:30 am on the way to work and garnering some intensely weirded out looks. He introduces minor threads that are woven into the story at the most unexpected moments, jolting the reader. Even so, the book is unrelentingly dark. It seems that the courses for these two lives, headed toward an inevitable meeting both in the flesh and in the ether, are burdened with things definitely out of left field. I was left profoundly disturbed by the oedipal and incestuous references (as i always am), but funnily enough in a Back to the Future, Marty and his young mother sort of way.

The book was an amazing reintroduction back into the world of literature, and since I am currently sans the interwebs (picture deep, wracking sobs at the public library while typing this. How the heck does one go about surviving without a computer?), I've picked up another author also seen in passing. We'll see how this whole book reading thing goes.

5 out of 5. One fantastic mind-bender