This idea of re-reading a
book at least once a year really paid off, and I plan to do it again with
another book I felt needed a second look. This first time I have ever re-read anything,
choosing Haruki Murakami’s second longest novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle; it
brought out new ideas and thoughts that didn’t really click with me when I read
it back in 2010. I recall I breezed through it, not affording it the time it
deserved and needed to be full digested. Now, without the burden of school, I put
a lot more focus and energy into taking my time with it. And I’m glad to say
that is one of the three pillars that hold up his reputation, the other two
being Kafka on the Shore, and his masterpiece, 1Q84. Granted, this is a little
more political than I am really comfortable with any writer getting, but no
other book Murakami has written so creatively and eloquently addresses the
ideas of loneliness, books like South of the Border, West of the Sun and
Sputnik Sweetheart have similar themes, but here they are fully formed over the
course of 600 pages. And I don’t know why nor can I explain it, but I found the
structure this time around, the letters, computer text and newspaper articles,
to offer a lot more than just mere fancy wallpaper. At best, they offer some of
the books most memorable scenes (more on that), and at worst, they are harmless
diversions that don’t cause too much of a headache. The story concerns Toru
Okada, who has recently lost his job, as well as his wife’s beloved cat. His complacency
is interrupted by the discovery of a well in the alleyway behind his house, and
the sudden disappearance of his wife, leaving him alone to traverse a series of
odd, sometimes violent occurrence that may not add up, but still act as
important guideposts to the answers Toru wants. While it is frustrating at
times, leaving these loose threads dangling out in the open even as the ending
closes in, in a way he is showing us what is really important; not trying to
solve life’s grand mysteries, but instead dwelling on said mysteries which
offers up time and energy to make yourself the best kind of person you can be. To
give up a certain amount of control and let things be. The same thing can be
said about his other two great books, each filled with cool scenes where it
doesn’t seem to matter that they don’t link up nicely, because that isn’t what
is important. And in re-reading it, I had forgotten some of the things that
happened, like the lounge singer whose obsessed with pain, the story of the
Japanese Army trying to kill all the animals in the zoo, and the disquieting specter
of Noboru Wataya, Toru’s wife’s brother, whose banal evil seems almost
supernatural (because it is). But nothing compares to Boris and the scene where
he skins a man alive, easily the most violent scene I have ever read. After a
closer inspection as an older, wiser reader, I appreciate this novel a lot
more, and will hold it more dearly to my heart from now on.
Rating: 5/5
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