Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
In the world of fiction rarely does a book live up to its hype. For the past six years I have dodged and weaved out of reading Kafka on the Shore because it was thrust into my hands by more than one person. Any time a book is recommended that many times to me I get nervous. It could be Harry Potter great or Twilight bad. Happily, Kafka is an amazing novel. Murakami prose carries the novel to a place where time and reality are not what we know or understand.
Generally, novels like Kafka end up being beaten to death by literary heavy weights. Professors, students, supposed learned men, and pseudo-intellectuals dissect it with in an inch of its life. Papers are written, classes are taught, and every bit of fun is sucked out of the novel and tossed onto a blackboard. Freshmen college English classes are bound up by novels like this. I feel like English departments at major universities do this to separate the wheat from the chaff. If a student can tolerate their third year post doc loudly pontificating about novels like this, then he or she can move on to an English major or minor. With that being said, Kafka deserves more than that. It should be read by people who do not read. It should be picked up and desired by high school students trying to figure out who they are. It should be lingered upon by grandparents who have memories made out sunlight. It is a book that is meant to be shared.
Be that as it may, there is a lot to be intimidated by when reading a book like this. First, the author's native language is not English. Murakami is Japanese, his English speaking fans often end up waiting a year or two after his books are published for a translation. No worries, I have read Japanese literature in the past, and J. Philip Gabriel does an amazing job. Gabriel makes the feel of the text innately non-Japanese. Second, there are a lot of illusions to Greek myth. Murakami does not send the reader diving back into old textbooks looking for meaning, he gives short, simple, and wonderful explanations while going along. The myth of Oedipus Rex becomes more of a gateway than a barrier. Lastly, it won a World Fantasy Award. Do not let the genera label of Fantasy get in the way. The book contains no wizards, castles, or Hobbits. It does contain talking cats, Colonel Sanders, Johnnie Walker, a large stone, and an old man that reminded me of my grandfather.
As I place Kafka on the Shore back on my shelf I realize that I have made a friend. I will revisit it later, in a few years, just so I can reflect on the story from a different perspective. Honestly though, is that not the sign of a great book?
My next read is Daughter of Smoke and Bone. I am reading it for a new book club called Forever Young Adult. Apparently, it is a book club for adults that like to read YA fiction. There is also a promise of cocktails at the meeting, so I was SOLD.
In the world of fiction rarely does a book live up to its hype. For the past six years I have dodged and weaved out of reading Kafka on the Shore because it was thrust into my hands by more than one person. Any time a book is recommended that many times to me I get nervous. It could be Harry Potter great or Twilight bad. Happily, Kafka is an amazing novel. Murakami prose carries the novel to a place where time and reality are not what we know or understand.
Generally, novels like Kafka end up being beaten to death by literary heavy weights. Professors, students, supposed learned men, and pseudo-intellectuals dissect it with in an inch of its life. Papers are written, classes are taught, and every bit of fun is sucked out of the novel and tossed onto a blackboard. Freshmen college English classes are bound up by novels like this. I feel like English departments at major universities do this to separate the wheat from the chaff. If a student can tolerate their third year post doc loudly pontificating about novels like this, then he or she can move on to an English major or minor. With that being said, Kafka deserves more than that. It should be read by people who do not read. It should be picked up and desired by high school students trying to figure out who they are. It should be lingered upon by grandparents who have memories made out sunlight. It is a book that is meant to be shared.
Be that as it may, there is a lot to be intimidated by when reading a book like this. First, the author's native language is not English. Murakami is Japanese, his English speaking fans often end up waiting a year or two after his books are published for a translation. No worries, I have read Japanese literature in the past, and J. Philip Gabriel does an amazing job. Gabriel makes the feel of the text innately non-Japanese. Second, there are a lot of illusions to Greek myth. Murakami does not send the reader diving back into old textbooks looking for meaning, he gives short, simple, and wonderful explanations while going along. The myth of Oedipus Rex becomes more of a gateway than a barrier. Lastly, it won a World Fantasy Award. Do not let the genera label of Fantasy get in the way. The book contains no wizards, castles, or Hobbits. It does contain talking cats, Colonel Sanders, Johnnie Walker, a large stone, and an old man that reminded me of my grandfather.
As I place Kafka on the Shore back on my shelf I realize that I have made a friend. I will revisit it later, in a few years, just so I can reflect on the story from a different perspective. Honestly though, is that not the sign of a great book?
My next read is Daughter of Smoke and Bone. I am reading it for a new book club called Forever Young Adult. Apparently, it is a book club for adults that like to read YA fiction. There is also a promise of cocktails at the meeting, so I was SOLD.
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