Further Influence

 Hello Class,

I’ve been appreciating the influence from previous works seen in Murakami’s writing, and I wanted to use this blog post to analyze another potential layer. We’ve discussed the influence of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness on the story of Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase. The stories both utilize the same motifs of obsessive pursuit of a mission with symbolic ambiguity and the main characters grappling with the instability of meaning. I believe these themes can be traced further back to Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. Moby Dick is even mentioned explicitly in Chapter 26 of A Wild Sheep Chase during the discussion with the desk clerk at the Dolphin Hotel. I also believe this influence led to the inclusion of Boku’s allusionary obsession with the whale genitalia in the aquarium. The elusive white whale can be seen as a precursor to the characters of Kurtz and the Sheep stripped of their respective political/societal themes. Conrad frames Kurtz within the context of imperialism and Murakami frames the sheep through postmodern alienation and absurdity. In Chapter 42 of Moby Dick, the narrator describes the whale, “the vague, nameless horror concerning him, which at times by its intensity completely overpowered all the rest; and yet so mystical and well nigh ineffable was it, that I almost despair of putting it in a comprehensible form.” This mirrors the indescribable nature of both Kurtz and the sheep, with Kurtz’ dying words echoing, “The horror!” with no further explanation and the sheep dissolving into abstraction. 

Bradley Rosen

Murakami's Modern Way of Finding

When reading Haruki Murakami's novels, I mostly have no idea what he is talking about at the very beginning of the story. It's not that I can't understand the sentences, but that I can't understand the "why". For example, in A Wild Sheep Chase, the beginning mentions divorce from his wife, as well as earmold photos, postcards sent by friends and so on. These are scattered in my mind like fragments, and I have no idea what the author really wants to express. Before reading it, my expectation was, isn't this a story about searching for "sheep"? It was not until later, with my confusion, that I followed boku to the Dolphin Hotel and then met Dr. Sheep, which gradually brought me back to what I thought was the process of finding the sheep.

Not only that, the same feeling is felt when reading a new short story by Haruki Murakami. Why would a man enter a room with a black travel bag, take out stockings, high heels and cheese cookies, and then answer a strange phone call? Why would a detective open an agency on the shabbiest street in Sydney, even though he is rich? Why would a stockbroker disappear in the stairwell from the 24th floor back to the 26th floor for a full twenty days?

It was not until I read Suter 's modernity that I seemed to have found a possible explanation. The word "imaginary" is mentioned in it. What interests Haruki Murakami is the United States imagined in his mind. So these things mentioned may not be reality, but the symbols mentioned in the modernity book. This makes readers realize that what we are reading is not a "true" story, but a text constructed by the text itself. Therefore, I feel that when reading Haruki Murakami's articles, one should not attempt to "understand" everything but rather feel it. It was not until later that we returned to the answer we were looking for.

Zihan Yan (Vivian)

Roll over basho

 After reading this conversation, I felt like my view of Murakami got changed. I used to treat the Western references in his books as more of a label: very pop culture heavy (well, western culture) maybe even a little bit intentionally anti traditional. But in this discussion, it became clearer that these details aren't decoration. They're part of how he builds a believable everyday world, where loneliness and detachment don't need dramatic explanation because they already feel natural inside that setting.

What stayed with me most was Murakami's point about language that he had to invent a new kind of Japanese for his fiction. That helped me understand why his writing can feel light and accessible without being shallow. It's not just emptiness but more of a choice to strip away a heavier, more ceremonial literary voice and replace it with something that travels across cultures more easily.

The contrast with Mishima also made the stakes feel real. Mishima is described as intense and grand. Murakami feels quieter, more skeptical, and closer to ordinary life, even when the plot turns surreal. For me, this talk showed that a writing style isn't just about how sentences sound. It's about what kind of world the author wants to make, and who they want that world to be able to speak to.

Wendy

A Protagonist Sequested - Isabella

 Hello Class, 

In this post I will be discussing some parallels between A Wild Sheep Chase, Kafka on the Shore, and IQ84, so please do not continue if you don't want any spoilers! If you have read these books, I would love to hear your thoughts. 

I feel like Murakami has a tendency to sequester his protagonist in the third act of his novels, typically before the big revelation or emotional resolution. In A Wild Sheep Chase, Murakami sequesters Boku in the cabin owned by the Rat, where, not much explicitly or explosively happens, rather, there are small moments, thoughts, or habits but which we are supposed to understand change or growth. For Boku, I think an intense representation of this could be the cleaning of the mirror, in which he is now able to see himself and not the Sheep Man (anyone else a big fan of the sheep man? I get a kick out of him.). I feel as though these periods of time are often characterized by really mundane habits like eating, cleaning, cooking and reading that often have insights to the story, or even, provide allusions to real life inspirations for the work. In both Kafka on the Shore and 1Q84 we spend considerable amount of time with our protagonists in isolation: for Kafka, he spends time in a cabin in the forest (another forrest of temporal anomaly) and Aomame, who spends a considerable amount of time in her safe house. All three of the characters read while in insolation. Aomame in particular, makes it a point to meditate on what she is reading, In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. I think she is able to get through all seven volumes if I am not mistaken! I cannot think of a more poignant novel for her character to be reading, especially considering the events of the novel (which I will not get into here). I personally just love this trend in his novels. It doesn't ever really feel stale to me, even though all three of these characters go through, ostensibly, the same thing. These periods really showcase these characters in a vacuum, almost without the context or events of the story themselves, reminding the audience that the characters in these stories are just people. Even in the midst of trying to find a sheep, or trying to evade a prophecy or running after getting mixed up in destroying a cult, these characters still need to eat. Murakami zooms in and out like an accordion to show us the range in his characters and makes the implicit, explicit, which I always love. 

Lots of Murakami protagonists experience extreme isolation and loneliness, I think of K and Tsukuru, (Sputnik Sweetheart and Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage) predominantly when I think of an almost palpable loneliness, that is more akin to Philip Marlowe's isolation maybe. These forms of isolation are different from this transformational phase of isolation we see in the books I have mentioned above, though I am sure there is some overlap. 

I would love to hear if anyone could think of other examples where Murakami protagonists are sequestered before the end of a novel. Thanks!

The Sheep Man Cometh Not

    In Murakami’s writing and some of his influences, mirrors are essential to the story. Just before the Rat’s arrival, the mirror in the house at the end of A Wild Sheep Chase helps Boku realize that the Sheep Man may not physically exist in the last visit. Similar to our discussion about pulling away the cloth draped over a mirror, Boku’s cleaning of the mirror reveals something about the “mirror world” (322), or enables him to see that he is alone in the house. After the Sheep Man’s initial visit, Boku speculates: “The area was being swept clean and purified. Something was about to happen” (308). He cleans the entire house, and only after finishing, he finds the mirror, the only exceptionally dirty item out of the lot. Upon examining the mirror, Boku exchanges possession of free will between himself and his reflection. Here the mirror is set up as a window to an alternate reality which he later uses to discover that the Sheep Man does not cast a reflection. This confirms his suspicions of the shared mannerisms between the Sheep Man and the Rat, leading to his declaration that the Rat will arrive in the evening. Although Boku indicates that he knows the Rat will be there, it seems more likely that Boku was telling the Rat through the Sheep Man that they must meet before Boku leaves the mountain the following day. It is an interesting coincidence that the timing of the Rat’s appearance aligns with the Secretary’s arrival. “Sixth sense”, as the man in the black suit suggests (345). Out of all the otherworldly occurrences in this novel, the last Sheep Man appearance being part of Boku’s mind, along with the dreamlike conversation with the Rat, doesn’t seem so unlikely. Additionally, the Rat makes no entrance, and their conversation is held back to back—a parallel to Boku’s interaction with his mirror self face to face. With this interpretation, Boku’s time alone in the house is a process that allows him to accept the Rat’s disappearance, end his sheep chase, and leave the mountain. He is disinterested in the Secretary’s check and the chauffeur’s description of the Boss’s funeral as a result. I am reminded by this—and the mention of "fourty-two" 4 times in reference to the amount of time passed after the Sheep Professor was abandoned by the Sheep—of a line in the song “42” (released in 2008, definitely not an influence): “Those who are dead are not dead / They're just living in my head”. Perhaps just as the mirror was never there in “The Mirror”, nor was the Sheep Man in the end.

 River 

Murakami's Protagonists

This blog post was inspired by my rereading of Pinball, 1973 last year. I noticed my feelings toward the book had shifted slightly from when I first encountered it in middle school, prompting the following reflections.

I've long pondered why I'm so captivated by Murakami's writing. I've turned it over and over in my mind, yet never quite grasped the reason. Much like the elusive perfect anime or film I seek within myself, I couldn't pinpoint exactly which element in Murakami's books satisfied me. I only know that I loved his writing.

Amidst this confusion, I found a clue in his Chinese translator Lin Shaohua's preface. He noted that in Murakami's early works, influenced by the spiritual void following Japan’s period of rapid economic growth and the disillusionment of the post-student movement era., protagonists tended toward “nihilism”—or what we might broadly call “lying flat” in modern terms.

This “lying flat” isn't the socially condemned version we see today: living off parents, complacency, lack of ambition, and so on (though I personally don't think that's necessarily a wrong way to live, but let's set that aside for now).

Murakami's protagonists are often single or divorced. They may have steady sexual partners or girlfriends, but never someone—especially of the opposite sex—to whom they can truly commit their hearts and souls. Most hold well-paying jobs: translators, portrait painters, or Calcutec. In short, they are people with stable careers and substantial incomes. Whence this sense of nihilism, then?

Murakami's protagonists generally enjoy beer, whiskey, jazz, and classical music. Outwardly cold, they seem detached from the world. After their homes are destroyed and someone slashes their stomach, they can still calmly sit on a surviving sofa drinking lukewarm beer. Yet inside, they carry a lock—only the right person or event holds the key to unlock it, prompting them to risk everything.

Yet what exactly is this nihilism, and what causes it in these protagonists? It still remain mystery for me. What I do know is that after navigating the adventures of an entire book, the protagonist always gains something. It is precisely this something that pulls them out of the void. This seems to be the spirit Murakami wishes to convey to his readers.

Returning to the original question, I recall my high shcool literature teacher once telling me that reading is the process by which the human mind constructs images through words. I believe the reason why reading evokes different feelings over time is that in the intervening years, people experience many different things. These experiences cause us to construct different scenes from the same passage of text.

Boran Xiang

Rat = Boku?

 Hello Class,

The last several chapters made me think a lot about the eerie similarity between Boku and the Rat. The first introduction of the Rat seemed odd because he is never given a name, just like our main character Boku. Then during his conversation with the Rat's woman friend only she seems to know his name but never says it. This lack of a name and Boku's further detatchment from reality blurs the line between what is real and what isn't. So when we never get to meet the Rat other than in the moment he is revealed to have commited suicide, it seems a little suspicious to me, almost as if the Rat exists more as a mirrored extension of Boku than as a fully independent character. 

Additionally, they are said to be extremely similar (almost Identical) in looks but have oposing personalities. The Rat doesn't smoke, while Boku does constantly. The Rat has a decisive mission to kill the sheep while Boku reluctantly seems to do anything important surrounding the sheep. Ultimitely, their goals not only intersect but reach the same end with the death of the sheep and also the death of the secretary (who wanted to take over with the sheep). The Rat allows the sheep to enter him and then sacrifices himself to destroy it. While Boku kills the would-be successor in a quiet, almost detached moment that feels less like triumph and more like completion. In this way, their paths feel parallel but also the same. Let me know what you all think about the weird connection between Boku and the Rat!

Raul J Valles III