A Wild Sheep Chase

Finished reading 'A Wild Sheep Chase' yesterday. Not much to report, although I've come to a greater understanding of Murakami's approach to writing. First of all, he has flaws like everyone else, which is somewhat comforting. For one, his stories all follow the same general mold: ordinary guy, first person narration, usually lives in the city, something strange/otherworldy is introduced, the story begins in earnest, more strange stuff happens, the narrator undergoes a transformation. End. The commonalities don't stop: every novel I've read so far has linked in some way back Japanese history, often incorporating WWII or the little-publicized Japan-Russo War. More often than not, narrators are interchangeable between stories (a fact which Murakami has slyly acknowledged by naming his narrators "Toru" in several different novels). Another common feature is the transplantation of the narrator from the city into other, more obscure regions of Japan. Kafka goes to Shikoku. A Wild Sheep Chase's narrator (who is strangely unnamed) goes to Hokkaido. Toru from WBC goes to the city from the suburbs.

Anyway, onto the meat and potatoes:

This novel gave me an intense appreciation for the author's way with words. He writes with utter confidence in his artistic vision, and, as a result, is able to get away with things many writers could not: ridiculous dialogue, acrobatic prose, unbelievable characters and plot twists. All is smoothed over though, in the strength of Murakami's conviction.

The guy is also a damn good writer (Other reviewers I've read have also given credit his translator, Alfred Birnbaum; one went so far as to call the two "Spiritual twins." Interestingly, I did not notice any major differences between this and 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,' which was translated by Jay Rubin, or, for that matter, 'Kafka on the Shore,' which was translated by J. Phillip Gabriel. This is a good thing in my book, showing an absence of coloration by the translators). He is a master of writing just enough words to convey the message, and he has a special way with intimate details. I can remember one passage of weighty dialogue near the end of the book, after which the narrator declares "My mouth was all dry inside." This seemingly frivolous detail actually contributes to the text in many ways, most of which I can't claim to understand. These details serve to make the plot believable, as well as make the reader feel as though he or she is experiencing the novel up close and personal. A far cry from, say, 'The Tale of Genji,' a novel whose details were as murky as the ancient world it described.

Murakami's writing is sharp, clear and focused. He has the whole package – excellence in both form and content. His words have a rhythm, but they also convey a message. Take one passage where the narrator grabs a doorknob and finds it is loose, which prompts him to compare it to "an old molar." A most excellent metaphor, befitting in both the sounds of the words (consonance in ow-ld and mow-lar) and the image conveyed (molars have their own peculiar brand of looseness – as many of us have discovered twiddling them around with our tongues all day).

The novel itself is a bit strange. It starts with an account of a high school lover– now-deceased, lapses into the modern day life of the narrator, takes a break for some letters from a friend, and then – finally – the story begins in earnest. Precious pages are spent going into the life stories of extraneous characters. Before you know it, the novel is over. When it ended, I wasn't left with much of an impression. This may be one I have to re-read.

Central to the story is the sheep. The sheep seems to represent an amoral, immortal Will, and it "gets" into certain characters. The narrator is assigned to find this sheep. At the book's conclusion, the narrator's friend, The Rat, dies with the sheep in him, seemingly burying the dangerous will forever. I suppose this is the "deeper meaning" of the novel, although I can state this only on a superficial level. Murakami's novels are messy; they aren't confined to one theme. And this one is particularly messy, feeling more like a fragment of some larger story than a novel in its own right.

It was a pleasure to read, it will be a pleasure to re-read.