Hello
Gentle Reader
There
can be no denying that Haruki Murakami would be considered an outlier or an
anomaly within the literary and publishing world. Some, however, would go on
and describe the author as a miracle of the literary and publishing world, due
to his sky rocketing success he has found as a foreign author translated into
English. Statistically speaking, only about 3% of books published in a year are
translated from other languages—though this trend has increased over the past
few years. Publishers have stated they do not publish translated literature,
due to native English language speaking readers, treating them with uncertainty
and disdain; which often meant publishing a piece of translated work was a
gamble that often ended with little monetary gain and no success. Yet,
publishers such as Dalkey Archive Press continued to push through language and
cultural barriers, whereupon they published numerous translated pieces of literature. Their catalogue though was often populated by strange,
experimental, and at times postmodern pieces of work that fit a niche
readership rather than a widespread commercial oriented audience. To be blunt:
a great deal of readers, have neither the time nor the tolerance to read a
novel or a short story collection or a poetry ensemble, which patronizes them
with pretense and pomp; a piece of work which was written on the sole ground to
showcase its own self-absorbed grandeur and high opinion of its own cultural
merits and cleverness. In short, if a book alienates a reader by its own
volition, the writer has ultimately failed, and the reader will judge with
scalpel scrutiny and there is rarely any room for redemption. Then there is
Haruki Murakami, the translated literary superstar—the Japanese equivalent of
J.K. Rowling with his literary success. His works are enjoyed globally, and he
has faithful followings in such places as: China, Taiwan, (South) Korea, North
America (United States especially), France and Germany.
Back
in March: Newcastle United Kingdom, hosted its first Haruki Murakami
Conference, which was attended by scholars, academics, and translators to
discuss the work of the Japanese author. In usual character (or perhaps in good
taste), Haruki Murakami himself was not present for the conference. Since the
Newcastle Conference, other conferences have been planned in: France, the Philippines,
and Australia, all with the same goal of discussing and reviewing the works of
the author. A cynic might make a comment with ironic connotations about how one
would know they’ve found success when conferences are hosted in your honour,
and your work is reviewed with such inquisitive interest. For his part though,
Haruki Murakami remains either reticent or nonchalant about the entire affair;
in the end at this point: his silence is guaranteed. The academic attention
coupled with his popular success and critical acclaim has made Haruki Murakami
a polarizing figure. Some have called Murakami a literary miracle; while others
have referred to him as a parading populist menace. This leads to the question:
when does critical praise become cultural norm? and when does criticism become
jealousy? When it comes to Murakami it is difficult to see where either begins
or ends. Yet, when looking at the authors work through the context of Japan’s
literary history, and the rampant rise of globalization and cultural exports,
Haruki Murakami becomes a mercurial mirror like figure, one in which either perspective
can be reflected; all the while the author himself declines in participating or
clarifying either point.
More
recently, Haruki Murakami’s influence can be seen with his recent withdrawal
from the Alternative Nobel’s shortlist. The inclusion of the writer on the
shortlist showcases his popularity and readership worldwide, as he beat out a longlist dominated by English language writers who have
gathered worldwide attention and acclaim. But when it came to the world to vote
on the authors they wished to see shortlisted and seek to win the award, Haruki
Murakami came out triumphantly in the top four. Once again: another testament
of his global readership and popularity. Yet, his withdrawal from the award is
riddled with intrigue. As one of the most recognized and famous Japanese writers
of the contemporary literary world, Haruki Murakami is often considered at the
forefront for the Nobel Prize for Literature. In annual speculations and
betting sites lists of potential winners, Haruki Murakami can be relied on to
occupy a prominent spot, of a potential and perhaps even likely candidate to
receive the award. Officially, Haruki Murakami had requested to be removed from
the shortlist citing his desire to focus more on his writing. For the most part
his devote readers have been accepting of this decision. Some have gone so far
as praising the decision whereby they’ve expressed contempt towards the
Alternative Nobel, as populist and reactionary against the Swedish Academy. It
appears for Murakami’s fan, if he is to win any Nobel, it will be thee Nobel Prize for Literature.
Anything secondary is just that: a hack or mere shadowy remnant of the true
golden prestige. It can be theorized
that Haruki Murakami shares this same thought. If he is going to win any Nobel,
it will be the true deal, not a gold plated alternative version of the prize. Removing
himself from the shortlist may also help any of his future prospects (though
this again is speculation), as it can be deemed by previous behaviors and
precedence set by the Swedish Academy, they do not take it kindly when an
author may have insulted their institution or prize, advertently or otherwise.
By withdrawing from the shortlist, Murakami may maintain his chances at the
real deal, while keeping good faith towards both the prize and the Swedish
Academy. It should be noted, the idea of Haruki Murakami winning the prize is
not discussed with the author personally, he treats the subject as impolite and
even foreign; yet it is highly speculated the author seeks to receive the
honour and solidify his position as one of the greatest writers of his time;
but such coveting can only be seen as mere speculation not with any valid factual
evidence.
The
question then is: what is the secret success of Haruki Murakami’s global appeal
with readers? After all, he’s a post-war [Japanese] baby boom postmodern
novelist, which in any other case or in relevance to any other author would be
considered a synopsis curse, rather than marketing mayhem blessing. For
Murakami, he retains his stance as a curious breed of literary stardom; but his
success can be made out quite clearly when reviewed as a whole. For English
language readers, Haruki Murakami does not market himself necessarily as
foreign or strange—though the term ‘strange,’ is often attributed to his works.
His literary influences are explicitly Western in nature, and he makes frequent
references to popular culture (music and films) and classical western culture in his work. His
self-confessed influences are: Raymond Chandler, Franz Kafka, J.D. Salinger,
Raymond Carver, Kurt Vonnegut, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Gabriel García Márquez.
Following his influences are his themes—particularly his preoccupation with
dealing with the mundane, the aimlessness of life, the unknown, and his use of
empathetic existential dread. A great deal of Murakami’s readership is young;
specifically readers in the transitionary stages of adolescences into adulthood
and from university into the working world; therefore for the large youthful
readership which consume and read his work, these themes particularly resonates
with their own dilemmas and uncertainties, as they transition to the world of
independence, which includes all of its requirements (education, work, family).
Then comes’ Haruki Murakami’s style. His novels are narrated via the first
persona, generally a solitary lone individual (more specifically a man), who
can precisely observe and repot, with a reasonable objective perspective the
situation(s) going within the story. His characters are nothing special: they
work in offices, or run bars or cafes, or are unemployed. They are
unremarkable. However, their saving grace is how close they exist and live to a
rather absurd reality or slight magical infusion of reality. All those who read
Haruki Murakami clearly state there is always a quirky and striking adventure to
be had; some cryptic magical quest of sorts, which is always brought by the
most mundane events; such as a cat going missing or a chance encounter with a
mysterious woman. From there the plot twists and turns entering steadily into the
absurd. In one novel a woman is stalked by a shadowy figure that inhabits her
television—and she is eventually abducted by this stranger, and taken inside the
television. In another novel a woman enters a different dimension after walking
down a set of stairs. This new dimension appears almost mirror like in reality
with the exception of it have two moons, one of which is green. In another a
man enters a small village populated by casual violence, unicorn skulls and is
deprived of his shadow. In these situations the reader is disarmed and less
resistant to the impossibility of what is being depicted, due to reassurance by
the casual narrator and observe of the events, who describe them with matter of
fact certainty. Beyond his outrageous plots and stories, his casual and solemn
observant everyday heroes, his empathic existential ponderings, Murakami’s
literary style is also welcoming and comforting to readers in the English
language. His language is explicitly minimal and simple; with heavy references
to Western pop cultural music, jazz, food, and drink; this allows Haruki
Murakami to be both exotic in a superficial manner without alienating readers.
His novels and stories could take place anywhere, as it does not rely on any
content or context from Japanese literature, culture, or aesthetics. This
ironically enough puts Haruki Murakami at odds (or so he says) with the
Japanese literary establishment; where he describes himself as an outsider.
When
compared to previous Japanese writers such as: Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, Yasunari
Kawabata, Yukio Mishima, and Kenzaburō Ōe; Haruki Murakami would be described
as the odd man out, both by his preoccupations, themes, style of writing,
influences and success. When reviewed,
compared, and contrasted with his predecessors, Murakami would strike a reader
to be staunchly starched, ironed, and whitewashed of any cultural components
relating him specifically to Japan. If one were to read the short stories by Ryūnosuke
Akutagawa, there is a distinct cultural context and content included in his
short stories. The same can be seen with Nobel Laureate Yasunari Kawabata and
his pupil, Yukio Mishima, who took Western modernist influences and applied
them to Japanese influenced narratives. Kawabata in particular used the
delicate nature of Japanese lyricism and haiku’s to paint condescended and
emotionally impacting portraits of the human plight in an ever modernizing
world, and questioning where Japan existed both traditionally and progressively
in this world. Mishima, relied heavily on traditional Japanese cultural tropes
in his often nihilistic and brooding narratives, where he discussed fatalist
finalities, as well as the Bushido code and the bleak understatements of
Buddhism thought, in an ever growing and meaningless modern world. Despite the
influences and applications of new western literary tropes, Yukio Mishima was
vehemently nationalistic in perspective, both personally and politically;
though I do not enjoy his narratives personally, as I find them melodramatic
and a bit exaggerated, I can respect his unique and controversial position in
Japanese literature. Kenzaburō Ōe, by comparison to his own predecessors, had
made a move away from overtly nationalistic principles (mainly in the case of
Mishima) and instead focused on the end of Japan after the Second World War,
where he explored unique philosophical issues, social issues, existential
issues, and concerns about nuclear weapons and power; yet a great deal of his
bibliography is centered on his personal autobiographical fiction detailing the
crisis he experienced when his son Hikari was born with severe cognitive
disabilities; and the theme of disabilities and being ‘wounded,’ or unable to
speak or socially connect has remained a strong theme in his work. When
compared to Yukio Mishima, Kenzaburō Ōe is equally as politically active, but
on the other side of the political spectrum, he has rejected honours bestowed
by the Japanese Emperor, and has remained staunchly liberal in his political
occupations, as he explores the disenfranchised and disillusionment of contemporary
Japanese society. Yet, even here, Kenzaburō Ōe remains interested and concerned
about Japanese society, perhaps not praising or depicting it in the same manner
as his forefathers and contemporaries; he remains concerned about Japanese
society and by extension the reflection of human society as a whole. Haruki
Murakami, when reflected on and compared to his predecessors, barely shares any similarities beyond superficial elements, such as: he’s a Japanese writer
and he writes novels, short stories, and an essay collection here and there.
Beyond that there are few similarities to grasp at. He lacks the lyricism,
grace and modernist experimentation of Yasunari Kawabata; the aesthetics of
Yukio Mishima; the influences of Ryūnosuke Akutagawa and his traditional
cultural contexts; as well as the true firm social engagement and social
criticism of Kenzaburō Ōe.
What
then does Haruki Murakami have? For one: he has a writing formula which has served him
well, and allowed him to find a startling and yet fairly earned literary
success. Due to his formulaic writing he can casually slip into the absurd
and the surreal, and tell a unique story. His characters or rather narrators
are empathic and generic enough that they could be anybody, and their issues
and lives are as bland and mundane as anyone else’s. Yet, here the difference: they have the opportunity thanks to the author to escape into some
strange alternate reality, and enter a unique adventure which takes them out of
their normal routines and their boring lives. From there these narrators
observe and report, and casually offer philosophical thoughts on their
situations and on the world. For this
Haruki Murakami has found international success and a worldwide readership,
devote in their enjoyment of his books; all the while publishers have certainly
found themselves quite a cash cow for sales and success. Despite his successes,
his popularity, and his reticence and nonchalant attitude towards the acclaim
that surrounds him, I personally finding Haruki Murakami a literary menace.
There is no denying he is a publisher’s miracle; but his supposed literary
merits which are quickly attributed to him, are mistakenly applied and are for
the most part precedent set pomp, and exaggerated.
When
I think of Haruki Murakami and read some of his works (I won’t bother investing
in anyway work which exceeds five hundred pages at most), I find his themes are
always recycled and reused, and not in any clever way. His characters have
become caricatures of themselves, and his depiction of women in particular is
rather effacing, and they lack depth and any solid concrete character structure
beyond their gender and their tendencies to disappear or being a mere object of
desire and affection. His supposed philosophical perspectives are more like
fetishist ideas of solitude, both as a requirement in today’s world, but also
as a negative impact which has grown to epidemic scales in today’s world, along
with other mixtures of sexual longing and other philosophical and existential
considerations thrown into the loop. Mainly these are questions asked by all
individuals in today’s world, as well as decades prior. The transition between
childhood into adulthood, and independence and figuring the world out for oneself,
is not a remarkable philosophy, nor is it ground breaking; but it is sellable
and easily empathized with, as there is a time someone where in someone’s life they have asked
themselves similar questions and contemplated their place within their own
life, and what their life should look like. Quite frankly, these attempts at
philosophical ‘topics,’ are no more groundbreaking then half-baked ideals of
Ayn Rand. In this, I grow concerned with regards to Haruki Murakami and his
widespread influence. I find his work often on the verge of being pedestrian
and rather unimaginative; his work is outrageously repetitious, with similar
plotlines, situations, surreal events, themes, characters, tropes, and
narrators. In essence, I view Haruki Murakami as a product of literary globalization;
the attempt at writing works which transcend realities of culture and
geographical separations, whereby the narratives can essentially be taken in any
context and speak on an attempted spiritual level on the basic elements of
existence and being human. In reality Haruki Murakami comes across as a product
of globalization and rampant suburbia on a global scale. As an author, Murakami
has eschewed traditional Japanese literary formats in favour of one influenced
by western cultures, especially pop culture, music, and pulp fiction. In
reality he is nothing more than a literary menace and a byproduct of global
suburbanization, which has placed Japan in the main exports of anime, martial
arts/ninjas, Samsung and Android phones, Hello Kitty and other video games. His
work is not literary groundbreaking, but rather fragrant frivolity, which has
gathered popular attention and is paraded for its populist appeal. His success
is owed to him, his work speaks to his readership, but as for any true literary
merit and potential, his work is not on par with previous great writers—both
Japanese and other wise; which leaves me gravely uncertain and horrified of
where this leaves contemporary Japanese literature—or rather what will be
translated into English, and be deemed an appropriate representation of true
contemporary Japanese literature. At this point it were to appear everything
produced or translated from Japan, is the attempt of publishers and agents,
seeking to grasp their piece of the cash cow of the Haruki Murakami phenomena,
as they vie and attempt to introduce the new Murakami sensation to a hungry
English language readership.
First,
there was: Banana Yoshimoto, who shares very similar styles and themes to
Haruki Murakami. Her prose style is simple, easily translatable, and her work
once again details and contemplates the youthful transitionary phase of coming
into one’s own. Her work has been described as being aimed towards more
feminine or female readers, and she carries a romantic and even slightly
sentimental air to her work, as she explores and denigrates relationships
between her characters, as well as themes such as the exhaustion of Japans
youth, and how traumatic experiences shape an individual. She has found success
within the English language, and retains her popularity at home in Japan, but
her work is still overshadowed by Haruki Murakami abroad.
There
was a brief attempt to see if Yōko Ogawa would be able to meet Haruki
Murakami’s shadow. Ogawa had no interest in being compared or competing with Murakami,
who she has stated with honesty, has been a great influencer on her work
(though it is not readily apparent). Instead if Yōko Ogawa was going to make it
in the English language market, she would do so on her own merits, with a
translator who would translate and seek to publish her strikingly distant,
emotionally restrained narratives, and macabre as well as grotesque imagery
depicted with an almost ritualistic and obsessive compulsive manner. If
Murakami is a fanciful and flighty magical realist of a writer; Yōko Ogawa’s
narratives imply a dark and sinister world inhabiting the personal space of her
characters. Her imagery is ghoulish in essence, depicting rotting food, or
depleted and derelict buildings or landscapes, or people who are malformed or
disfigured by birth or by accident. Despite the grotesque imagery, her
narratives are emotionally restrained even stunted, and her narrative voice is
distant, cool and detached, allowing her to escape any accusations of
sentimentality or blatant exaggerations for a cheap shock or thrill; she avoids
it all, and allows the prose and imagery to insinuate the sinister
undercurrents of modern society, its disenfranchisement, its disillusionment,
and inability to come to terms with its own past, and willfully seeking to
absolve itself of its own memory. Her prose is similar to Murakami’s do to its
simplicity and almost banal depiction of events, rendered with matter of fact
bluntness. Yet her deft innuendos allow her to become an accomplished
psychological writer, exploring the sinister crevices of the human soul and
shadow, while tracing the curvatures of the obsessive mind, or reaching out to
grasp a phantom limb, only to find air and a meaningless emptiness. In these
regards, Yōko Ogawa, reaches back to former and formal Japanese cultural
contexts and literary methods, as she explores a unique casual interest with
the grotesque, and resonates ghostly and ghoulish themes into modern novels and
stories, which explore the deft psychology of the peculiar, deformed, lonely,
disenfranchised, disillusioned, and otherwise socially alienated from society;
which puts her on level with Kenzaburō Ōe in exploring the socially intense
themes, but she lacks his out righted critical eye and perspective on such
matters. Yet, Yōko Ogawa, has never filled the role of Murakami clone and is
not about to either; which is perhaps why in the English language, there is a
lack of her work being translated and published, as she did not produce the
same results as Murakami; whereas in French she is praised and critically
acclaimed with her work being translated frequently into the French language,
by her devote French translator: Rose-Marie Makino.
Now
a new author has been placed centre stage, in the pursuit of the next Murakami.
Her name is: Mieko Kawakami. Kawakami has been applauded in her native Japan as
a unique voice literary voice, one that is readable but also literary in its
preoccupations. Her use of language, style and themes are renowned for being
experimental and unique. Haruki Murakami himself has even given credit to the
author, stating she is his favourite young writer currently at work. This
endorsement has most likely only increased her literary reputation, but also
increased attention and demand for her in the English language. Her novel “Ms.
Ice Sandwich,” received positive reviews in periodicals and newspapers in both
the United States and the United Kingdom. It was praised for its unique
perspective of a school boy’s crush on a woman who works in a local deli and
makes sandwiches; critics applauded the novella for its ability to treat the
subject matter with innocence and peculiar insight, while avoiding the tropes
of sexualization. The novella was also praised for its ability to capture a
childlike narrator’s ability to speak, perspective, and thoughts on the world
including their ignorance on certain subjects, but also expressing insight into
the realms of modern day loneliness and the alienation of technology and real
connections. Since then, more of her novels are expected to be released in
English translation, including her Akutagawa Prize winning work: “Breasts and
Eggs.” Perhaps, Mieko Kawakami will be the predecessor of the new Murakami.
There
can be no denying Haruki Murakami is positioned in a unique place the literary
world. He’s a publisher’s dream, where he can be portrayed as foreign without
alienating his readers, and still be called literary and receive international
literary accolades. He’s continually named as a contender for the Nobel Prize
for Literature, and many of his devoted readers believe this is an accolade
that he deserves; especially considering he continues to wrap up and clean
house with all the other preliminary awards. Yet, I urge caution and perhaps
more viciously with great vitriol, a complete disregard for the supposed
apparent literary qualifications and merits the author is supposed to be in
possession of. When I read Murakami, and see his work I see a product of global
suburbia, and one whose own work has become a self-absorbed caricature of
itself, and lacking in any real literary merit. His recent attempts at social
interference and commentary are as about as half assed as his output, superficial
and cheap sentiment. With regards to the current dispute between Japan and
China over the Senkaku Islands, Murakami made only one statement, where he
called nationalism on both fronts cheap liqueur. With regards to the recent
executions of members of the doomsday cult: Aum Shinrikyo; Murakami—a renowned
advocate of passivism and against the death penalty—stated he supported the executions considering the crimes
the group committed; once again though he lacks the sincerity and genuine
interest to come across as being engaged enough in the matter to actually merit
an opinion on the matter, which would be considered significant. Unfortunately,
his opinions are only given significance due to his reputation and success, as
well as the desired possibility he may receive the Nobel Prize for Literature.
His literary merits are questionable; his talents are perhaps over
proportioned, his disregard for Japanese narratives and cultural contexts, is
disappointing, which shows a real lapse of themes and beauty which can be found
in his predecessors; his lack of social engagements and now attempts at being
socially committed and open to discussing political and social concerns is
rather superficial and does not carry the gravity of other authors such as: Kenzaburō
Ōe. Despite this though, he is a literary miracle, though in my mind a product
of global suburbia. He’s praised, lauded, and read worldwide. His work finds
readerships, his stories connect, his narrators intrigue and observer. On the
flipside he is a literary menace, a mere caricature of his earlier works, a
populist paraded paradox; one in which is carried to literary award to literary
award, and now literary festivals and confrences. Haruki Murakami is certainly a baffling
phenomenon. His shadow resting uncomfortably now on the rest of contemporary
Japanese literature being translated and published into other languages, each
one expected to carry some reminisces or remnants of Murakami, with that same
superficial foreign attitude, yet familiar enough that it’s not off-putting. To
be blunt Gentle Reader: they can go on some ghostly cruise or mystery
adventure, which takes them through the strangest subterranean realms of human
society, but as long as someone listens to jazz music, eats spaghetti, and
offers some existential poignant thought or observation which offers some
empathic understanding towards the reader, then hell it’ll do just fine. It’s a
baffling world; truly baffling.
Thank-you
For Reading Gentle Reader
Take
Care
And
As Always
Stay
Well Read
M.
Mary
