...nwood...

A perpetual struggle of the human condition is our craving for greater interpersonal connection. We constantly perceive that the connections we have are lacking, and that we cannot escape a fundamental isolation. While on the surface our desire may be for a partner - or for the ability of an existing mate to understand us on a deeper, more intimate level - it may be that the solutions we grasp for in the external world, can only be solved internally. Perhaps our true need is to re-integrate fragmented parts of our personality - or, as the character of Nakata puts it in Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore: to find the other half of our shadows.

In his exploration of this quest for wholeness, Murakami sets up parallel stories which pair 15-year-old runaway Kafka Tamura with the 70-year-old "idiot savant" (for lack of a better description) Nakata. The opposing characteristics of these two protagonists - youth and old age, book learning and Buddhist "beginner's mind" wisdom, careful planning and directionless wandering - both contrast and compliment each other. Murakami seems to view Kafka and Nakata as two parts of a greater whole. Throughout the novel the activities of these two both oppose and heal one another. For example Kafka forgoes sleep for nights on end awaiting the visits of a ghost while Nakata compensates by sacking out for marathon sessions. Similar patterns exist in the supporting actors Oshima and Hoshino. The former being a highly educated, fragile hemophiliac of ambiguous gender, and the later a decidedly masculine truck-driving high-school drop out capable of spontaneous feats of great strength. As important as the differences between these characters, are the similarities. Kafka and Nakata are both, more or less, orphans on quests. Whereas Oshima and Hoshino serve as squires providing guidance, interpretation and transportation.

If we have been divorced from significant parts of our self, where have these fractured personalities been misplaced? Traditional schools of psychology search for these fragmented selves deep in the subconscious. This seems consistent with Murakami's views. The buried shards ourselves exercise powerful, yet subtle control over us. Like Kafka and Nakata we often cannot provide satisfactory explanations for our actions such as why we have run away from home, or why we have left our safe life in Nakano Ward. Just as mysterious are the questions of where exactly our quest is taking us and where to draw the line between dreams and reality.

The sky is a blanket of gray, merging with the gray sea off on the horizon. It's hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. Between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart. (p 24)

Murakami's protagonists traverse un-navigable forests and cross great bridges. Their destinations are both familiar and disorienting - places inside that we know exist but that we either cannot reach or refuse to access. Perhaps this is a key to how we should read the Yeats quote "In dreams begin responsibilities," (p 132): The murmurings of our unconscious should not be disregarded. It is our duty to listen, question and follow these clues - even when they manifest in as internal soldiers marching us into what seems like horrific conflict. As Kafta puts it: "...she got it wrong. What I imagine is perhaps very important. For the entire world."

In Murakami's craft the reader encounters an eclectic collection of elements. At times a character or narrator appears to spoon-feed us interpretations. We later realize that they are serving the function of chorus in the style of ancient Greek drama. And then there is the predominant "magical realism" of Murakami's work. Thankfully the fantastic elements do not betray the immediacy of Murakami's message. In some cases the surprising inclusion commercial icons from even bridges a gap between the real world reader and the fictional characters. Another entertaining element is the laundry list of great art woven into the novel: Descriptions of Schubert's Sonata in D Major, references to Soseki's The Miner, The Tale of Genji, John Coltrane, Radiohead and of course Franz Kafka.

Kafka on the Shore over all is an easy read. The surface-level story draws the reader in quickly. Murakami provides us with many levels of meaning and much rich material for reflection.