Category Archives: LITERATURE

As I’m coming towards the end of this story (should be finished tomorrow) little things are starting to bother me.  What’s the good of surrealism if it seems contrived? As the characters progress on their journeys–which by the way, they … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Nor do we need to know every meal the characters eat. Back in the apartment, a soothing fragance filled the place.  Nakata was bustling around the kitchen preparing some steamed daikon and deep-fried flat tofu. (p. 356) At six Nakata … Continue reading → Continue reading →

I’m a firm believer in knowing the rules inside-out before you attempt to break them.  I’m also a believer that most of the best literary classics are based on broken rules. But I’m having a bit of a hard time … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Maybe I’m just slow at catching drifts, or maybe I’m just the caboose on a train going on the wrong track, but I’m being pounded with a sense of duality in this novel. Obviously, the two stories, the two characters, … Continue reading → Continue reading →

All right, so everything’s not as it appears to be, or maybe it is and suspension of disbelief is all it takes to appreciate this novel.  But Kentucky Fried Pimp? Now I’ve never had a problem with believing what I … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Then Murakami subtley disappoints: As Miss Saeki went around interviewing people for her book, maybe she met my father.  It’s entirely possible.  There can’t be that many people around who’ve been struck by lightning and lived, can there? I breathe … Continue reading → Continue reading →

As I said, up to these last few chapters life was rather tranquil for both Kafka and Nakata.  Then McCarthy stepped in with blood and guts and now, Marquez.  Raining fish and leaches.  Two of my favorite authors though, so … Continue reading → Continue reading →

One of the things I hate the most is being laughed at for being dumb, but I can’t help but laugh along with those of you who’ve read Murakami and have noted my comments so far about his unmetaphorical writing … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Hoo-boy.  Murakami has just presented us with McCarthy’s Judge (Blood Meridian) in the form of a man who dresses like and calls himself Johnnie Walker and who claims he must kill cats.  A philosopher, a man who forces one to … Continue reading → Continue reading →

But it doesn’t make sense… The dog’s eyes were as glazed and lifeless as glass beads congealed from swamp water. (p. 122) Now I like Murakami for his simple writing style and great story, but I love metaphor and simile … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Ah, my world is riddled with mystery lately.  Here’s some from Murakami: Okawa glanced at the photo and made a gloomy face.  Frown lines appeared between his eyebrows and he blinked in consternation several times.  "I’m grateful for the sardine … Continue reading → Continue reading →

There has really been no language style that Murakami uses that has had me race to the computer in admiration; his style is pretty straightforward writing without metaphor, simile or particular beauty of words. I think where he excells perhaps … Continue reading → Continue reading →

As I’ve said, every other chapter alternates between the two stories, that of Kafka and of Nakata.  Nakata’s story is told by a series of difference techniques and timelines that defy linear sequencing in that while they start out as … Continue reading → Continue reading →

About a quarter of the way into the book, some thoughts on Murakami and his novel: No pretty prose, stark imagery of detailed description rather than any use of simile or metaphor (although I reserve that for the cats that … Continue reading → Continue reading →