Kafka and me

Haruki Murakami's latest dreamscape, Kafka on the Shore, has drawn me in this weekend. You know how a good book is; you can't set it down. So far I've read 240 of the paperback's 467 pages., or roughly 51.4%. Most people would say "a little over half," but I prefer greater mathematical precision.

Think about that number: 51.4%. It could well end up to be the next President's percentage of the popular vote come November, assuming a two-person race. In 2004, Bush won reelection with a tad over 51% of the vote, but that translated into 3,012,497 more votes than Kerry.

Once you've read one Murakami book, in a strange way, you know what is going to "happen" in the next book of his that falls into your hands. I'm approaching the halfway point through a list of six of Murakami's most celebrated works (41.9%, actually), so as I turn each page, a strange sort of dread and excitement hangs over the reading experience.

His most jarring scenes are sexual, violent, or claustrophobic. A character we learn to care deeply about has lovely, erotic sex, only to discover it may have been a dream. Another character, harmless in every way, suddenly murders someone in a disturbingly graphic way, only to awake in another place, with no blood at all on his hands, let alone his clothes. His characters sit at the bottoms of wells, or alone in remote cabins, deep in the woods, or imagine they are far under the sea.

Most of all, Murakami explores something essentially Japanese: a belief in spirits and ghosts. Thanks to my travels in Japan and my close relationships with a number of Japanese people, and my careful reading of many, many works of Japanese literature, it has become an expectation of mine that any true Japanese story will explore these supernatural aspects of life.

Murakami is deeply reflective, though not in a religious sense. Japan's is not a religious culture; it is secular and pragmatic. But at the same time it is superstitious and deeply spiritual. Many peoples around the world honor their dead ancestors, but many Japanese seem to believe theirs are still among them, long after the death of their physical manifestations.

In his latest book, Murakami explores whether humans may be able to become spirits even when they are still alive on this earth. Think about that, and it becomes an intoxicating concept. If it is so, one's thoughts and fantasies can be projected over great distances to cause real things to happen.

As one with no true experience to either validate or reject his theory, I can only wonder whether it just might be right. After all, Japanese society is one of the oldest on earth. Everything that can be imagines has already happened in Japan, including many things (think atomic bombs) that no other people have yet experienced, Thank God.

(If believeing in God will prevent any more nuclear attacks, I'll convert tomorrow, or at least the day after.)

But then again, on my mother's side, my Scottish ancestors believed in all sorts of spirits and superstitions. And, my own Grandmother seemed to be clairvoyant.

Setting down the book for a bit, and before writing these words, I painted a picture tonight. And that is what sits atop my post. I call it "Kafka."

-30-