I picked up Kafka on the Shore after visiting a bookshop in Japan. I was surprised (somewhat naïve) to find very few English books for sale so far on my holiday, so this small selection peaked my interest. However, oddly about half the books were various titles from the same author, Haruki Murakami. So after a quick google to see what was generally most popular I put down a copy of Norwegian Wood and picked up a copy of Kafka by the shore (as well as a non-fiction essay from the author).
I was captivated from pretty early on and found myself losing time reading, especially when I had a (rare) extended run on a train or resting after a day’s exploration. Murakami hooks you in with mysterious fragments hinting at something supernatural – old interviews, newspaper extracts, a 15 year old runaway and an old man who can talk to cats. Each chapter on its own was entertaining, the prospect that these seemingly different stories could connect was very alluring.
However in someways the stories didn’t connect. Murakami leaves so much up in the air and left to your imagination. Unlike similar books through I didn’t find this unsatisfying though. I’m not sure why but although much of the supernatural remained unexplained the character stories seemed to wrap up and seemed satisfying.
I enjoyed following the characters, but more than that I felt I got a real insight into something new. I squirmed at some points (particularly the violent and sexual dreams and prophecies), I was shocked at others (the reveal of a supporting character’s true identity) and this kept me reading, but I think what made this all satisfying was the immense kindness written into the book.
Travelling Japan as a tourist you feel as though an outsider in an already pretty introverted society, so on one level reading about a real community from the perspective of a local rather than that of a tourist was already cool. But Murakami reveals a kindness in the world that we didn’t just see on holiday, but one we don’t really see in real life. The runaway and the old man are entirely dependent on trusting, open and caring characters who are free of judgement and do their best. The conversations were honest and open – there was no duplicity or insincerity in conversations.
The whole thing felt like a community trying to solve a puzzle, getting to the end, not finding the answer but being content in their journey, their efforts and able to move on. Having started Murakami’s essay on running this starts to make more sense. Murakami states how he doesn’t like competitive sports but rather enjoyed running and the challenge of getting the most out of oneself.
This book had not clear (or real) antagonist, it was simply the characters doing their best, helping each other, learning to trust each other and navigate uncertainty in good faith with no expectations of anything in return.
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