I finished A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami (b. 1949) this week. This is the second Murakami I have read. The first was Kafka on the Shore (2002), which I very much disliked. I enjoyed reading this book, but I do not think much of it in terms of it being a novel. I, of course, briefly looked at reviews by other readers in a bunch of places online and I see very disparate reader responses. I got the feeling that most of what was said about the novel had to do with what readers themselves brought to their reading of it. The sentiment that I came across most often, and quite agree with, is that this book is “accessible.” I take this to mean that one does not need any specialized knowledge or have to have a very advanced reading skill. Accessible meaning – an easy reader, so to speak. The opposite of an easy reader would probably be something by William Gibson (e.g. Count Zero) or perhaps a China Miéville (e.g. Embassytown).
Perhaps this is the shining accomplishment of this work: Murakami manages to write a ersatz novel; in fact in places I wondered if he was writing a novel-parody. Not, really, for political or ideological reasons, but just because of an uncommon want to go against novel standards. What are novel standards? Oh, any English literature class could delineate them. The usual structure and elements that the average reader might expect to find in the construction of a novel. I would say most of those items are an illusion here. The characters in this novel are all unnamed. Well, there are, I think, two or three names, but they are nicknames. The main character, who narrates the story, is unnamed. I think this is significant because it keeps a rather strong human impulse to categorize, name, organize, just outside of the grasp of the reader. There are plenty of other books that do not use names, though.
There is no plot in this novel. I think there are efforts online wherein readers have sort of cobbled together what they think the plot could be. However, as a reader who has read a couple of books, if I think on the matter and am really honest, there is no plot. Things happen, the main character does things and things happen to and around him. However, this is probably the neatest thing about the book: its the illusion that there is a plot. In reality, the events of the novel are not really related, purposeful, or relevant. However, the reader gets the very strong impression that there is a plotline and there is a story and things are happening for a reason. That there is no such thing is very curious and indeed Murakami should be praised for such a slick, sleight-of-hand writing.
It is quite a remarkable novel because it seems to have all of those elements that make the best novels. Readers are entertained and convinced there is a storyline – we meet creepy strangers, interesting props that might have relevance to a story, there are possibilities for all sorts of symbolism – but similar to a true dream-state, none of the scenes have any meaning. Perhaps it is better to say, they do not have immediate, obvious meaning as installed by the author. Like a dream, items surface, with vague-connections to each other, and then fall under the waves again. Events occur that feel, at the time, meaningful and significant, but in reality are just ersatz scenes that are built from the most generic of pieces.
For example, readers are very “trained” to have certain expectations with novels. Authors create scenarios and characters for a reason – typically in service to an overall plot. So, readers of this novel are turning the pages expecting all of the threads to come together for, maybe, an “ah-hah!” moment or a resolution or a big reveal. This really does not occur. The fact that none of that happens is, I think, where most of the readers who disliked the book developed their discomfort and dislike for the novel. A frustration or a confusion as to how all of these seemingly significant pieces remain meaningless.
As in a dream, all of the pieces seem so very familiar – the girlfriend, the business partner, the mysterious rich guy, the chauffeur, the hotel, the train, the cat. However, just like in a dream the pieces do not have the detailed depth that, let us say, exists in waking reality. So, the characters open beer cans, read letters from friends that use real language – but have no purpose, smoke endless cigarettes in a nearly hypnotic automated manner, and seem to ruminate on mediocrity. There are a whole lot of readers out there who, after having read this book, are asking themselves (and others) about the representations. Many readers are trying to “make sense of” the book – just like persons who have dreams, they are isolating elements and trying to “figure them out.” I read in many places readers asking: “Well, what did this mean? What did this represent? What did that symbolize?” ….because there is a deep, underlying belief that there is a purpose/meaning to each element in this story. So, similar to those who engage in dream-interpretation, there is an effort to ferret out what things mean. I am convinced this is not a good reading of the novel.
Anyway, the novel has been called magical realism. I really do not like that terminology. I do not think it makes sense, nor do I think that people who use it could define it and ground it if they were really put to the test to do so. Not to sound Leibnizian, but my world is quite magical and wondrous and surprising – what sort of awful worlds must people exist in wherein they think a little magic and wonder is outside of the norm? Murakami, in a number of interviews or writings or wherever, mentioned some of his influences in writing. Many critics/readers have compared his writing to other literary roadmarks, yet I did not see a comparison to the one author that I think this book most feels like: Philip K. Dick. And I have to take a minute to snort and giggle as I imagine a literary critic referring to PKD as “magical realism.” I really cannot think of another author who so successfully – and consistently – uses reader’s realities, dreams, and perspectives as a playground.
Overall, I have to say that I enjoyed this experience. I had no idea whatsoever what to expect from this book. I was entertained and engaged – the pages flipped rapidly and I had whatever amount of interest in the characters/scenes/plot that I could develop. There are occasional lines of wit that helped keep my interest. For example:
I lit up a cigarette and ordered another whiskey. The second whiskey is always my favorite. From the third on, it no longer has any taste. It’s just something to pour into your stomach. – pg. 118, chapter 16.
Well, after reading two thirds of the book, the story starts to get very strange and surreal. I think the fact that it has been such an easy-reader and has had so many familiar, but indistinct elements lulls the reader into that same dream-state so that when the magically bizarre is introduced, it hardly seems strange at all. This is very much what I experience in dreams. Everything seems normal and then even the really strange seems, somehow, normal too. I think that most readers should be sure to read this book because it is an interesting experience and I would not want readers to avoid it because they fear some “magical realism” or some “Japanese zeitgeist” in writing. Now, I can imagine most readers not being as accepting as I was of this dream-like novel, some might be angry at the lack of rigid novel features. Still, the experience is probably worth the fast-turning pages.
3 stars
P.S. Shortly after I finished this novel, someone (who has not read this book, nor was aware of anything about this book) sent me a news link to this article: https://nypost.com/2022/11/17/sheep-filmed-walking-in-circle-for-12-days-straight-in-china/ I admit, I was a bit unnerved for a moment – but like I said, magic is all part of my reality. I do not live in a dull world.
I finished Gallows View by Peter Robinson (b. 1950) this morning and I do not have good things to say about it. It was published in 1987 and is the first in his Inspector Alan Banks series of novels. This summer, for whatever reason I have been up to my elbows in crime, mystery, and suspense novels. Truth be told, there are only two that I found to be good reading. Only a couple were decent reads and then the majority, I think, were quite bad. Since I have finished this novel, I am debating with myself about whether this is the worst of the bunch or second-worst.
I finally got around to reading the second book in Stuart M. Kaminsky’s (1934 – 2009) Inspector Rostnikov series Black Knight In Red Square (1983). I had read book one in the series way back in 2013. I gave that novel a four star rating and I am going to give this novel the same. I knew even before opening the book that it would be four stars, so I am likely very prejudiced by enjoyment and not being very objective.
The Running Man by Stephen King (b. 1947) was originally published in 1982 as by Richard Bachman. I read the May 2016 Pocket Books edition. I think this is the earliest King novel that I have read. The Gunslinger was published as a collected “fix-up” novel in the same year as The Running Man was released. The contents of The Gunslinger having come from 1978 – 1981, allegedly. So, splitting hairs about the dating here…
Mrs, Presumed Dead by Simon Brett (b. 1945) is the second in the Melita Pargeter series of novels. This one was first published in 1988. I read the first novel in the series years ago in 2015. I think these novels (or most of them) are out of print, so until they are reprinted (or not) I am keeping these on the shelf for other readers who need a copy (my specific copy is February 1990 printing).
The Gunslinger by Stephen King was first published in 1982, but it was actually separate stories that were previously written that made this into a “fix-up” novel, as they are called. In 2003, King famously revised and updated the novel. I do not know if this is the second or third time reading this novel. Every time I read it, though, I feel more or less the same way about it – its really good in retrospect after having read the next two books or so in The Dark Tower series. Taken on its own, it is exceedingly weird and disjointed and awkward.
I grabbed a paperback of Signs and Portents by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, among a bunch of other books, the last time I was in Atlanta. I think the copy of Signs and Portents was maybe .50¢. It is a collection of ten stories by Yarbro that are somewhat difficult to classify in a precise genre. Maybe they lean toward horror or science fiction/fantasy, but I think identifying them like that would mislead potential readers. So, normally I would not have picked up this book. However, I had to remind myself that I am supposed to be reading from a more expanded panorama and I saw it was cheap and threw it on the stack of books I had already collected. Why would I normally not read this book? Well, the scary graveyard 80s cover art, for one thing. I do not normally read books with those covers. Yes, very superficial. Secondly, Yarbro is around in science fiction/fantasy and I do not have any interest in her stories and she seems a little “far out,” maybe? I am not sure. In any case, this just is not a book I would gravitate to.
Here is a quick paperback by an author I have never read before. To be honest, this is another one of those books that I would “typically” not be drawn to. However, this is the Great Effort of reading things outside of the usual selections – and clearing out the tremendous bookshelves. A Trouble of Fools by Linda Barnes is the first in the Carlotta Carlyle series, first published in 1987. I read the St. Martin’s Paperbacks 2006 edition, but I did want to glance at the internet to see if I could see what the original cover looked like.
Beyond the Blue Event Horizon by Frederik Pohl was first published in 1980. This novel is the second in the Heechee series that begins with the well-known novel Gateway (1977). I read Gateway in 2012 and I really did not like it. I loved the cover that John Picacio did for Gateway, but as for the novel itself I was disappointed because the novel went places I did not appreciate. It does not take too long into the novel to realize Pohl is writing rather euphemistically and this earned him an unflattering nickname in my household that I will not share here. Needless to say, I was in no hurry to read the next in the series. In fact, at that time I did not actually think I ever would. Lately, I’ve been trying to get through some of the old “hanging on” novels, particularly “book twos.”
Ender’s Game is a very famous science fiction novel from the 1980s. I could have read it in any number of decades – the 80s, the 90s, the 00s, and yet I only just read it this month in 2017. Please do not think that I was avoiding it for any reason. I was not. I, quite simply, never had the opportunity or occasion to read the novel. There are a lot of novels that fall into this category with me (yeah, Lord of the Flies is still unread), but Ender’s Game was a standout omission because it always seemed like *everyone* had read it multiple times.
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