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davramlocke's Reviews (777)
When reading a Murakami novel, you can expect a few consistencies. There will always be a female character that the male protagonist finds intriguing and abnormal. There will always be a host of unexplainable phenomenon that border on supernatural without ever coming right out and claiming to be. And the protagonist himself will always be a crude reflection of his creator, complete with quirky habits and a fondness for some type of alcohol. These are like old friends to any Murakami reader, and Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World proves no exception to the above rules. But I don't want to make the mistake of saying every novel is the same. They are all different, if similar, and every time I read one I marvel at Murakami's ability to take me out of this world while leaving me on planet Earth (even if it's in a very different country from my own).
This particular tale has, per usual, an unnamed male protagonist who suddenly finds his life upturned by a series of suspicious and confusing events. Unlike most of Murakami's novels, Hard-boiled Wonderland is a bit more violent, has a bit more action, and tells an almost hero-epic style journey, replete with archetypes to assist him along the way. It can be confusing at first because there are more references to obscure math and science than in any of the novels I've read yet, but like Neal Stephenson, somehow Murakami manages to infuse an understanding in even the densest reader (me).
And if that's not enough to whet the appetite for good Japanese fiction, there exist not one, but two female librarian characters with integral roles to play in the story. What more could one ask for?
This particular tale has, per usual, an unnamed male protagonist who suddenly finds his life upturned by a series of suspicious and confusing events. Unlike most of Murakami's novels, Hard-boiled Wonderland is a bit more violent, has a bit more action, and tells an almost hero-epic style journey, replete with archetypes to assist him along the way. It can be confusing at first because there are more references to obscure math and science than in any of the novels I've read yet, but like Neal Stephenson, somehow Murakami manages to infuse an understanding in even the densest reader (me).
And if that's not enough to whet the appetite for good Japanese fiction, there exist not one, but two female librarian characters with integral roles to play in the story. What more could one ask for?
I enjoyed Odd, but this is definitely a book more suited to children. I'm certainly not saying that adults are incapable of reading or enjoying a kid's book, but rather that the tone and pace, as well as the length, of Odd and the Frost Giants are all ideally suited to someone under the age of 10 or so. There is a specific lack of violence, even when Gaiman writes about vikings raiding the shores of Scotland.
For all that, it's a clever story, probably readable in one sit down or possibly even during one storytelling session around a campfire. Odd is the son of a Norseman, and though crippled at a young age, always holds his head high and uses his wits before anything else when dealing with adversity. The story reads very similar to one of the Norse myths, and even features the three most popular players from said myths in Loki, Thor, and Odin. Where it varies is in the aforementioned lack of violence or sex or anything truly adult in theme. Instead it deals with family, being quick-witted, and persevering despite the obstacles before you. In that way, it's almost a modern myth even if it has figures from old mythology. The lessons we impart through stories today could be said to have changed in the last thousand years or so because of the way society itself has changed, and Gaiman reflects this with his own version of a classic myth.
Well worth a read if you're a Gaiman fan or just like some Norse mythology.
For all that, it's a clever story, probably readable in one sit down or possibly even during one storytelling session around a campfire. Odd is the son of a Norseman, and though crippled at a young age, always holds his head high and uses his wits before anything else when dealing with adversity. The story reads very similar to one of the Norse myths, and even features the three most popular players from said myths in Loki, Thor, and Odin. Where it varies is in the aforementioned lack of violence or sex or anything truly adult in theme. Instead it deals with family, being quick-witted, and persevering despite the obstacles before you. In that way, it's almost a modern myth even if it has figures from old mythology. The lessons we impart through stories today could be said to have changed in the last thousand years or so because of the way society itself has changed, and Gaiman reflects this with his own version of a classic myth.
Well worth a read if you're a Gaiman fan or just like some Norse mythology.
When I say that South of the Border, West of the Sun is a typical Murakami tale, I say that with a fond tremble to my voice because typical Murakami is much more interesting and better written than most other fiction. The familiar parts of any Murakami tale are here though: male protagonist, slightly awkward and not socially invested, likes music and whiskey; odd female love interest with mysterious secrets; a satisfying mixture of Tokyo and rural region Japan. What differs in this novel is that there aren't as many ethereal, strange events (though there are a couple), it's more biographical than any of his other works so far (at least in my opinion), and it's more of a love story than anything else I've read of his yet.
The story tells of an only child named Hajime, and it follows his life from childhood into middle age. This is another way in which South of the Border differs. Few of Murakami's stories span the decades like this. Norwegian Wood did, but not in such an expansive way, and in many ways this story does have quite a few similarities to Norwegian Wood, but goes further in the life of its protagonist and doesn't take such a bleak outlook on love. During Hajime's childhood, he meets a girl with a lame leg named Shimamoto, and they form a bond that stays with them for their entire lives, a bond that will re-ignite when he reaches that middle age and change his life drastically. But along the path of his journey, he meets other women. One he hurts irrevocably. One he marries and still hurts, but not to the breaking point. And of course, Shimamoto returns to him unexpectedly and shatters everything.
When I mentioned before how biographical this work is, I say so after reading Murakami's memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. In South of the Border, Hajime owns several jazz clubs, as did Murakami before he started writing. Hajime grew up in the same era as Murakami, witnessing the rebellions of the 60s and the explosion of popular culture in Japan. He also takes his fitness pretty seriously, but choosing water over the road (Murakami does swim, but running is his passion). I suppose every one of Murakami's protagonists is just Murakami, and maybe I felt as though Hajime was his closest doppleganger because I'd just read the memoir. It's often difficult to pinpoint things with Murakami novels. They're all similar enough to blend together over time. But at the same time, they all manage to set a different tone and feel different. I wish I could summon the proper words to convey what I mean by this.
South of the Border is, in my opinion, one of Murakami's strongest stories of love. He forces Hajime to make difficult decisions, decisions that toss around his carefully built life. Much of the time, Murakami's protagonists simply float along, accepting what comes and drinking away any worries. Hajime is unable to do this because unlike most of Murakami's leads, he has real responsibilities and obligations. He's also one of the oldest of Murakami's males, clocking in at a hale 37 by the end of the novel.
I can't think of much else to say about the book, mostly because if you've read Murakami, you'll know what to expect, and if you haven't this probably isn't the book I'd start with (though honestly any one of them might be the same to start with). I liked it, as is to be expected, and while I wouldn't say it was my favorite of his works, nor would I say it was my least favorite. I'm not sure I have a least favorite, though the jumpy nature of After Dark kind of bothered me.
The story tells of an only child named Hajime, and it follows his life from childhood into middle age. This is another way in which South of the Border differs. Few of Murakami's stories span the decades like this. Norwegian Wood did, but not in such an expansive way, and in many ways this story does have quite a few similarities to Norwegian Wood, but goes further in the life of its protagonist and doesn't take such a bleak outlook on love. During Hajime's childhood, he meets a girl with a lame leg named Shimamoto, and they form a bond that stays with them for their entire lives, a bond that will re-ignite when he reaches that middle age and change his life drastically. But along the path of his journey, he meets other women. One he hurts irrevocably. One he marries and still hurts, but not to the breaking point. And of course, Shimamoto returns to him unexpectedly and shatters everything.
When I mentioned before how biographical this work is, I say so after reading Murakami's memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. In South of the Border, Hajime owns several jazz clubs, as did Murakami before he started writing. Hajime grew up in the same era as Murakami, witnessing the rebellions of the 60s and the explosion of popular culture in Japan. He also takes his fitness pretty seriously, but choosing water over the road (Murakami does swim, but running is his passion). I suppose every one of Murakami's protagonists is just Murakami, and maybe I felt as though Hajime was his closest doppleganger because I'd just read the memoir. It's often difficult to pinpoint things with Murakami novels. They're all similar enough to blend together over time. But at the same time, they all manage to set a different tone and feel different. I wish I could summon the proper words to convey what I mean by this.
South of the Border is, in my opinion, one of Murakami's strongest stories of love. He forces Hajime to make difficult decisions, decisions that toss around his carefully built life. Much of the time, Murakami's protagonists simply float along, accepting what comes and drinking away any worries. Hajime is unable to do this because unlike most of Murakami's leads, he has real responsibilities and obligations. He's also one of the oldest of Murakami's males, clocking in at a hale 37 by the end of the novel.
I can't think of much else to say about the book, mostly because if you've read Murakami, you'll know what to expect, and if you haven't this probably isn't the book I'd start with (though honestly any one of them might be the same to start with). I liked it, as is to be expected, and while I wouldn't say it was my favorite of his works, nor would I say it was my least favorite. I'm not sure I have a least favorite, though the jumpy nature of After Dark kind of bothered me.
