For nearly three decades, [the] chief emissary [of contemporary Japanese literature in translation] abroad has been Haruki Murakami, whose American influences and penchant for late-20th-century nostalgia and magical realism obscure whatever genuine insights he might offer foreign readers about life in Japan today.
The middle-class malaise of Murakami’s protagonists, who are more likely to speak with cats than to have uncomfortable conversations about late rent with their landlord’s wife, is largely absent from Kawakami’s work. That she has found success abroad through novels that look squarely at the times she is living through, with an emphasis on gender and class, suggests that Western readers may once more be ready for contemporary Japanese fiction that embraces the magic of realism itself....
Personally, I find the idea of more "emphasis on gender and class" tiresome. This is the refreshing new approach?! And then gratuitously kicking Murakami around? Is that really necessary? There's no reason why one person needs to occupy a position called Japanese "emissary." Anyone can read whatever books they want written by authors from anywhere.
One writer's use of fantasy doesn't prevent another writer from sticking to what is (supposedly) realistic. (Is it "realism" to use the gender-and-class template?)
It's certainly not realism to suggest that Murakami always uses fantasy. I know the article writer hedges by saying "more likely to speak with cats," etc., and I think that's because he knows Murakami's most popular book — "Norwegian Wood" — doesn't have fantasy elements.
Toward the end of the review, there's also this about Murakami:
Among Kawakami’s more surprising influences is the work of Haruki Murakami, who has praised her work as “breathtaking” and called her a “genius” and his favorite young author but has also been criticized for writing women as one-dimensional characters who can seem as though they exist for no reason beyond advancing the plot.
What an awkward statement! The article-writer has it in for Murakami.
For Kawakami, though, his novels provided a model for how to think about the individual. “No parents, no family, no soporific preaching, none of the self-conscious struggles or triumphs so common in literature,” she would later write in an essay. “For me, bogged down by situations and circumstances I had never opted into, Murakami’s individualism was shocking.”
This isn’t to say that Kawakami does not differ from Murakami in terms of how she thinks about female characters.
Perplexing double negative there.
When he made himself available for a series of rare public appearances with Kawakami, including a 2017 Q. and A., she broached the obvious incongruity of their mutual admiration by telling him, “It’s common for my female friends to say to me, ‘If you love Haruki Murakami’s work so much, how do you justify his portrayal of women?’”
Kawakami chose to highlight an example from his 2017 novel, “Killing Commendatore,” in which a woman introduces herself to the narrator by asking what he thinks of her breasts. Murakami responded by saying this was the woman’s way of suggesting that she viewed the narrator as a kind of eunuch; for Kawakami, though, it seemed like a way of fashioning herself into a sexual object for no obvious reason or benefit.
It's a 500-page novel, but let's fixate on the woman's breasts and try to figure out what they mean. Look squarely!
I see there is a new Murakami book coming out in 3 days — "Novelist as a Vocation."
1. That fish!
2. The dog's delicate care for a plant.
3. Sounds you don't hear anymore.
4. Do you pronounce these words correctly?
5. A designer food experience.
6. How to dress for a work meeting.
7. Her not understanding any critically acclaimed film.
8. The jazz they play in stores in Tokyo. (And here's his "In-Store (Tokyo Jazz)" playlist.)
The unusual sight of 30 or so pigeons perched on the rooftop of a parked car on a road in central Tokyo, rather than an adjacent small park, seemed like an unlikely place to congregate. But in fact it made perfect sense.... It turns out that pigeons take two factors into account when they pick where to perch, according to Shigeru Watanabe, professor emeritus of animal behavior at Keio University who won... the Ig Nobel award, which honors “achievements that first make people laugh and then make them think,” for showing that pigeons can distinguish between paintings by Picasso and Monet by showing 10 pictures of each to them.I who was lost and lonely/Believing life was only/A bitter tragic joke, have found with you, the meaning of existence, oh my love....
This could be the kind of joke I've seen many times over the years. I remember hearing it long ago when some character on TV (I think it was Gidget's unattractive female friend [Larue]) said she was so excited her "goosebumps have goosebumps."
That made a big impression on me when I was a teenager — "My goosebumps have goosebumps." Even at the time, I think, I wondered Is this a good template for humor or is it too dumb?
One answer is Who cares about being sophisticated! I’m gonna do what I want!
Said Haruki Murakami, when he was asked "Is Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World still your favorite of your own books?"
Quoted in "My Conversation With Haruki Murakami Never Really Ends/Sean Wilsey chats with the prolific novelist about music, racism and a writing process that never stops evolving" (Inside Hook).
From the story "Carnaval" by Haruki Murakami, in his new short story collection "First Person Singular."
If this post makes you want to listen to "Carnaval," you may be interested to know that there are 2 characters who decide that "Carnaval" is the greatest piece for solo piano. They meticulously study recordings of "Carnaval," and one, the man, decides the very best is Arthur Rubinstein’s RCA recording, which you can listen to here. The other person, the woman, takes the position that the best is Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, available here.
My reason for posting this isn't really to push the Schumann piece on you or to get you trying to figure out which is the best interpretation. Of course, I'm more interested in the subject of wearing masks. Masks come up in the story because masks are worn at the pre-Lent festival called Carnival (AKA Carnaval). Notice the "carn" — "Carnival is literally the festival of thankfulness for meat, and a farewell to it, as Lent begins." Is there some connection between masks and the loss of meat? The face is meat?
I'm simply offering this as something to add to your reflection on the subject of mask wearing.
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