Author of the Month

Murakami's "Underground" is actually two books of nonfiction, both concerning the Aum Shinrikyo gas attacks on the Tokyo subway system. Aum Shinrikyo was a religious cult (the Japanese state approved Aum Shinrikyo "religion" status in 1985) founded by Shoko Asahara that gained international notoriety after the attacks that took place the morning of March 20, 1995. The release of sarin gas on subway cars killed twelve while thousands today continue to suffer severe aftereffects.

The first book is "Underground", and is composed largely of interviews that Murakami conducted with victims of the attack, including several subway employees. Murakami's approach to this is markedly his own, and it differs dramatically from the tact of the media and judicial system. Whereas the former pushes a version of the story that's easily understood, marketed, then forgotten, and the latter wraps up the loose ends of an elaborate criminal act, Murakami wants to understand the experience of those who survived the attacks, their sentiments regarding Aum Shinrikyo and the trials of the perpetrators, and how this can illuminate the state of Japanese society. These accounts are never short of riveting. Some are frightening, some surreal, some are angry, some immensely grievous. Murakami takes great care to convey to us who each of these people are, telling us their occupations, their daily routines, their families, their goals and history. All the specificity that makes the individual. Murakami closes this section with an essay that examines the the "us" in the "us vs. them" polemic so pervasive in common accounts of the attack. Murakami's thought on this is remarkable, poetic, cautionary, and really very scary.

The second book is "The Place that Was Promised", and contains several interviews with former and present Aum members, some of whom are critical of the organization, some who remain loyal. Murakami asks more frequent questions in these interviews, and the interviewees responses to him are always fascinating, if not frustrating. This book is closed by an essay too, and again Murakami's thoughts on the appeal and importance of the Aum Shinrikyo cult are perceptive and telling.

This is a valuable collection of firsthand accounts of Japan's most terrifying domestic violence to date, framed in Murakami's unique perspective and voice. He really brings a writer's and novelist's eye to the event. He has an ear for the story, and he tries to find the one that tells the most. That it deals with terrorism (and more pointedly, the terrorism of a religious group) of course makes it especially salient to the times, though I doubt an account like this is ever going to go out of reading for long.

Murakami's "Norwegian Wood" was the novel that broke the author into mainstream success. Compared to "Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World" or "Kafka on the Shore", the narrative is straightforward: a college boy's coming-of-age story, told through his romantic involvement with two very different girls. But this book is the most affecting, personal, and character-driven Murakami I've read, and I loved it. It's a coming of age story with all of what I count as some of the author's big draws: simple, elegant sentences, sexual frankness, and quiet thoughts on everyday scenes. When Murakami writes that his character just drank coffee, read a chapter in a book, then went to get beer, you don't doubt it, and you feel for some reason that you would like coffee, a good book, and then some beer. It's a weird and calm effect he has. Also, in this book, you get to read about what everybody eats and drinks. You will know what every character ate and drank every time they do it. It's great. There's a diligent and gentle attention to surface detail that's almost strange. This book would serve as a great introduction to Murakami, his writing and voice are wonderful here, the story is clear and intimate, and if you're leery or not in the mood for fantastic elements, they're none to be found.

A Wild Sheep Chase is, in many ways, Haruki Murakami's break-through book. It was his first novel translated into English and his first popular, if not critical, success in Japan. The book is considered the second episode of his "Rat" trilogy, the first of which is not available in the U.S. and the third being Dance, Dance, Dance. (No fear, the books are only bound by one character, so it not essential to read them in order, or together.) Immensely successful in Japan, A Wild Sheep Chase is a comic combination of disparate styles: a literary mystery, a metaphysical speculation, and an ironic first-person account of an impossible quest. A beach read if Murakami has ever written one.

It begins innocently enough. A Woody-Allen-esque chain-smoking ad executive receives a photograph from a long lost friend and appropriates the image for one of his firm's promotional posters. But the photo - of an idyllic sheep-populated countryside - is no ordinary scenic view. Rather, it is photographic evidence of an elusive sheep with a star shaped birthmark that (traditionally) brings its owners incredible wealth and power. Soon, the ad man finds himself hunted by underworld figures who instruct him to find the sheep, or face dire consequences. Armed with a laissez-faire attitude and enigmatically-eared girlfriend, the man sets out on exactly what the title promises.

It is the way Murakami describes everyday oddity (such as the girlfriend with the perfect earlobes) and the way he conveys modern Japan (as a nouveau wonderland with a nameless male "Alice") that gives the novel its ample charm. A Wild Sheep Chase contains passages of incredible beauty, as well as breathtaking humor, all delivered as intimate author-reader conversation. Like the work itself, Murakami is very hard to compartmentalise. Just when you think you have a handle on his eerie brand of surreal description, he finds a new indulgence. ...And while this might sound irritating, it proves to be extremely rewarding.

Admittedly, this book is probably not Murakami's masterpiece (I'll save that honor for Wind-Up Bird Chronicles or Kafka on the Shore), but it might be his most fun to read. Grab onto this book, get a feel for the world you are about to enter, and read on for greatness.

One of the more preoccupying themes of Japanese literature in this century has been the question of what it means to be Japanese, especially in an era that has seen the rise and fall of militarism and the decline of traditional culture; but from reading the books of Haruki Murakami, one of the country's most celebrated novelists, you'd never know he was Japanese at all: his characters read Turgenev and Jack London, listen to Rossini and Bob Dylan, eat pate de foie gras and spaghetti, and know how to make a proper salty dog. In Murakami's early books, the references to Western pop culture were sometimes so obscure that they even flew over the heads of many Americans. Murakami's protagonists are soft, irresolute men, often homebodies with dynamic girlfriends or wives, who go through long, inert periods of ennui -- a blatant renunciation of the frenetic, male-dominated ethos of modern Japan. Breaking with his own tradition, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is Murakami's attempt to not only glimpse at Japanese-ness, but to use a very wide lens.

This is a big, ambitious book clearly intended to establish Murakami as a major figure in world literature. Although his earlier books bristle with philosophical asides and literary allusions (Western, mainly), most critics treated him as a lightweight, a wise guy who never took anything seriously. Wind-Up Bird Chronicle almost self-consciously deals with a wide spectrum of heavy subjects: the transitory nature of romantic love, the evil vacuity of contemporary politics and, most provocative of all, the legacy of Japan's violent aggression in World War II. But it all begins with a man losing his cat. Then his wife. (Then his mind?)

Focusing some of Wind-Up Bird Chronicles best chapters on the occupation of Manchukuo and the consequent border skirmishes with Russia and the Mongols, Murakami seizes upon a sense of collective guilt as cause of personal Japanese confusion. The Manchukuo passages are absolutely dazzling; the prose crisp and the visuals epic. The narrative leaps from 1930's Manchuria to 1980's Japan - with comparative stints spent in downtown Tokyo and Siberia. The transitory nature of the book, to me, was one of the most intriguing elements of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle . Yes, it is a big book, but one that is constantly changing. At times, I felt so far away from the original premise that I wondered if I was still reading the same book at all; oddly enough, instead of feeling muddled by the development of the book, I felt refreshed, glad to be always moving; leaving characters and plot lines behind; going deeper into the rabbit hole.

Many regard Wind-Up Bird Chronicle as Murakami's masterpiece and I would be inclined to agree. The experience of reading this book is absolutely mesmerizing -- and utterly indescribable, so perhaps I will stop trying to explain. Instead, I will say that Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and the resulting reading experience is its own reward. Trust me: It's a beautiful mind bender.