abashedly confused. this is how i feel after finishing h. murakami’s kafka on the shore. the story seems simple in the beginning. kafka, a 15 year old runaway tries to be the toughest teen in the world while searching for a home away from home. on the other hand, nakata who has the strange ability of talking to cats is hired to find a missing cat and in the process murders a man (AND SPOILER ALERT!) who happens to be kafka’s father. so what’s so complicated about this? everything in between. weird things that happens in the story and those metaphors that abound and i don’t even know where to begin with – kafka waking up with a blood on his shirt, the mysterious passing out of school children that wiped out nakano’s memories, the appearance of johnny walker and colonel sanders, the oedipal propechy that is the salient theme, the ghost of a 15-year old ms. saeki appearing at night, the entrance stone, the forest. just remembering all these images in the book make my head spin in absolute chaos.
but this is not to say i didn’t like the book. oddly enough, i enjoyed reading the book, in a masochistic way of liking it. it’s a pain because there are so many things i wish i understand but i don’t and yet it pleases me at the same time because it’s so imaginative in style and i’m not even sure if there is indeed only one way of looking at it. this is to say, it is not open to any other interpretation but the author’s. gah! i wish i was back in school taking up a course on japanese literature with focus on murakami’s works. perhaps then i would gain better and in-depth understanding of his writing.
my favorite part in the book was when kafka walks into the small quiet town in the heart of a forest near the end of the story. it is so surreal in every way imaginable. is kafka in limbo? in a parallel universe? or in dharma initiative? (lost fans anyone?) the possibilities are limitless to the analytical mind. i read somewhere that the key to understanding murakami’s works is to read the book again. but right now, i’d rather be in a state of confusion than be lost in such metaphysical world. in truth, i’d rather listen to kafka on the shore if this recording truly exists. i’m pretty sure it’d be as haunting as the song somewhere in time.
personally, reading kafka on the shore is like watching a lyrical dancer on stage. i don’t really get the overall meaning of the dance but i feel the emotions associated to it and with this, i conjure my own images. for me, i think this is enough because understanding its totality may take away the true beauty that lies beneath. and i’d rather preserve it this way, thank you very much.
