(Book Review) #1 "1Q84" By Haruki Murakami

                                "1Q84" By Haruki Murakami (Book Review) #1 

                 

This is not exactly a book review, rather, some random thoughts about the work that came to me on the day I finished reading it.

I bought this book in the October of 2021 as a treat to myself after receiving my first paycheque. This was all the luxury I could afford with my meagre salary from working as a faculty on contract. I had read two other books of Murakami’s previously: Norwegian Wood (1987) and Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage (2013). There was something soothing about these novels that made me gravitate to another work of his. However, the sheer volume of the book quelled my excitement by the time I reached home. I tried reading the first couple of pages only to realise that my headspace was not tuned to vibe well with the frequency of the work. With a heavy heart I closed the book and pushed it safely towards the back of my modest bookshelf. After over a year’s worth of dry spell, when I did not even read a single book, last month I chanced upon this book once again while cleaning my shelf. I was ready for a reading challenge and being jobless had ample opportunity to put myself through the time intensive task of thumbing through the pages of this voluminous book. The plan was to finish it within 13 days by reading 100 pages per day. But I fell sick in between and lost two days to complete bed rest. However, I made up for it and on the 8^th of March, 2023, finished reading the book with a great deal of satisfaction. I loved the ending despite the ambiguity surrounding it. 

          The first chapter opens in a taxi with the heroine Aomame listening intently to Janáček’s Sinfonietta playing in the background. The bewildering changes around her and the utter confusion that she is thrown into from there on makes us uneasy in ways that only Murakami can. Aomame’s reality is altered from the moment she gets into the taxi and we begin to scan the pages for explanation like the heroine herself. This is how Murakami gets us hooked to the pages of this work. The unfamiliar but impressive stereo system in the car, the sudden changes in the police uniform and the heavy automatic gun in their holster, the shooting incident that led to these changes, and finally the two moons in the night sky teasing her, all makes Aomame question her reality without losing grip on her sanity. After all, how can one ask another person how many moons are there in sky with a straight face and then expect them to give an answer without being mistaken for a lunatic. 

          The one character I really liked and could relate with was Tengo. For one, I liked the way he is described as being both brawny and brainy, with a love for literature. It doesn’t get better than that. His unassuming existence and the simple routines make him even more endearing. I have always found minimalist existence like his appealing. In the other two novels too there are similar characters: Toru Watanabe from Norwegian Wood and Tsukuru Tazaki from Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. In all of them I could find an indifference to life in general and worldly pretensions in particular. They are unapologetic in their choices and asserts their individuality without even trying. For instance, Tengo does not feel guilty about having an affair with an older married woman. Their weekly trysts cater to each other’s needs and there is no room for moral dilemmas in their engagement. Both their physical needs are met respectfully without being mentally shackled by social mores and expectations. In this sense what they have between them is pure and purposeful. Further, despite being a star pupil in his school, Tengo doesn’t find his relatively lower station in current life as a cram school mathematics teacher shameful. The thought doesn’t even faintly cross his mind. Aomame too doesn’t value the superficial aspects of her existence beyond a point.

          Aomame moonlights as a skilled assassin while working as a fitness trainer during the day. Her targets are abusive men handpicked by her enigmatic benefactor, referred to as the “dowager”, an old woman in her seventies. Both these women are shown to be believers of punitive justice, not for want of reason. They take up a final mission to kill the head of a mysterious religious cult for having sexually assaulted a minor girl and a few others before her. While Aomame kills the leader, Tengo copulates with seventeen-year-old Fuka Eri, and inexplicably a portal opens between them and results in Aomame’s impregnation. I remember reading this page again and again because it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. This was a whole different take on immaculate conception though technically there was nothing immaculate about it. There are a lot of similar instances from the work that had me doubting my discerning power over and over again. I still have absolutely no idea who or what the “Little People” are and their relevance with respect to “Maza” and “Dohta”. What are the prerequisites for one to become a perceiver and receiver? Was it Tengo’s father’s consciousness that had escaped his comatose body and went about knocking on Aomame’s and Ushikawa’s doors? If so, why? Why was Ayumi killed? I am sure there are a lot more of these questions, but these are some of the most prominent ones that kept bugging me till I finished reading the novel (It still does).

          For some reason breasts become one among the prominent distinguishing characteristics of the female characters. Aomame has small and differently sized breasts which she is not much proud of. The earliest memory Tengo has of his mother is that of her having a strange young man at her breast while he lay in his crib as a baby. Tengo notices that Fuka Eri has relatively large and nicely shaped breasts for her age and asks her to wear a particular sweater during the press conference to highlight her bust. To what end remains a question. Also, Aomame notices how her friend Ayumi, the meter maid, has larger breasts than her. Tengo notices the ample breasts of one of the nurses at his father’s sanatorium. At one instance Aomame considers getting a breast augmentation surgery and as soon as she entertains the thought, ends up abhorring it. When Tengo has sex with Fuka Eri in a paralysed state, he notices her breasts, “perfect hemispheres”, “fully ripe”. If you read the book, it becomes apparent that these descriptions are not even erotic and stands out like a sore thumb. Sometimes breasts make appearance in the most unexpected situations. For example, there is this one instance where Aomame mourns her two dead friends and the first thought that comes to her mind is how their “perfect breasts” are no longer in the world. Being a modest owner of a pair myself, I have never found breasts this bothersome in my life as in this book.

          At the centre of this narrative is a mysterious religious group, the Sakigake cult, with their dubious and extreme practices shrouded in secrecy. With Aomame killing their leader and Tengo unintentionally exposing their inner workings while rewriting a fantastical novel written by a teenager, they end up having targets on their back respectively. It is the presence of this common enemy that drives the star crossed childhood lovers towards each other despite not knowing about their geographical proximity till the end. The ritual sex, multiple satellites, elements of the occult and the transitions into alternate dimensions of the universe serves to defamiliarize and elevate the narrative. The same episodes are presented repeatedly from multiple points of view with each adding a little more information than the previous description until the complete picture is revealed to the reader. It can be thought of as a narrative strategy, mere redundancy or simply poor editorial work depending on the consumer’s level of patience.

          As a reader it was difficult for me to figure out who exactly has agency in this narrative. Who is at the top of the totem pole? There are a few red herrings in the work too. The rubber plant, the gold fish, the second moon, the anonymous NHK fee collector, the whole dilly dallying with the nurse at the sanatorium, the frequent appearance and disappearance of Fuka Eri, etc. They take up a lot of pages and leave us readers feeling cheated. It felt almost as if Murakami was making his readers work for the relevant parts of the narrative. He leaves us with a lot more questions than answers even after going through the thousand odd pages of this tome. Be that as it may, I liked this work for no particular reason. There were a few lines and paragraphs that felt very personal to me, which calmed certain tender spots in my soul. I am not sure if reading the book for a second time would give me the same warmth. But, it helped me feel good in ways that I cannot describe in categorical terms. Whether or not you want it I am going to give my two cents worth here: to enjoy the book, for whatever it is worth, it is best read continuously without prolonged breaks in between.