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Kafka on the Shore is one of my favourite novels written by Haruki Murakami. This is not a review – just some thoughts. I like how he tells two stories and cleverly intertwines the two. This talent of his I have seen before in Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World – my other favourite. I haven’t read enough of Murakami to judge out of all of them. But so far these two are top of the list – probably the latter more so.

I love the way he weaves the real and the unreal together and makes the story mesmerizing. The story is even more elaborate than Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World involving an old man who talks to cats and his whole purpose in life is to find lost cats, a 15 year old boy called Kafka who runs away from home to avoid an Oedipal curse. Having read a couple of Murakami novels, I was surprised at the heavy sexual overtones. In other books, the physical act is hinted at to the point that you’d think the author seemed almost disinterested. Here, the focus is unmistakable. He purposely dives in and dwells on the subject throughout as if it was a challenge.

Having done a little search on the internet, I found thenewcanon.com which compares Murakami style to those of other writers:

“This re-examination of the real is at the heart of the fantastical landscapes of Gabriel Garcia Márquez, the pulp fiction-ish narratives of Philip K. Dick, the ‘alternative universe’ histories of Michael Chabon and Philip Roth, and the quasi-science fiction scenarios of Wallace’s Infinite Jest, McCarthy’s The Road and Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. Indeed, the pervasive incorporation of sci-fi plots into serious fiction, from Kazuo Ishiguro to Jonathan Lethem, is a recurring and unmistakable sign of this pronounced shift in the literary weather.

Few writers have poked more holes in conventional notions of reality than the Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami. Other authors have explored what has come to be known as “magical realism,” but most of them— such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Alejo Carpentier and Ben Okri—have set their visionary tales in Third World locales where myth and folklore loom large over the cultural landscape. In these environments, magical realism seems a natural extension of an on-going and tradition-laden literary dialogue. But Murakami concocts his magical stories in the midst of affluent modern-day consumer settings.”

The above extract explains Murakami much better than I ever could. I’ve read Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude, Ben Okri’s The Famished Road, McCarthy’s The Road and Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale – and loved them all. Though I’ve got to add Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist to this. If you have read and enjoyed any of the above, then I’m sure you’d enjoy reading Kafka on the Shore too.

Have you read the book?

What did you think?

Just finished watching the film starring Richard Gere called Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. I cried. And I plan to watch the original Japanese version as well. I have a feeling that it will be better. Originals tend to always be better than remakes – that’s why they remake them.

After watching the film, like many people who were touched by the true story of a loyal dog, I wanted a one of those Samurai dogs.

Yeah, I know, it’s sad that it takes just one film to get me feeling like that about a dog.

But really what is it that touched me?

In a society where thoughts and feelings expressed in an email are instantly sent and instantly forgotten and everything seems so fleeting, the notion or act of loyalty seems, to me, dead. Amongst people anyway.

And I miss it. Have I ever had it?

I don’t think so.

Why do I think that? Because in this modern society, everything and everyone is dispensable. Everything can be upgraded and a newer version can be found. It’s the same with consumables and sadly, it’s the same when it comes to people.

It seems in a society where friends could be someone you’ve met once and then they’re a friend on Facebook and anything you say on the internet has a shelf life of one second or so, the story of a faithful dog who manages to wait for his master at a railway station to return even after the master has died, makes me miss what I’ve never had. Perhaps the closest would be my family but they have no choice. I sound like a cynic.

In a society when it it’s so easy to ‘friend’ someone and the next second to ‘unfriend’ them; to marry someone and within 24 hours divorce the same person…I think it’s sad and wonder if this type of loyalty can only exist between man and dog and the rare minority of couples who stick with each other through thick and thin.

If, and the possibility is high, I end up on my own, I think I’d end up an animal person. I won’t go crazy and have seven cats but perhaps a couple of fish tanks, a cat and – go on, shake your head, I don’t care – one of these dogs. I don’t want a dog to fetch a ball for me, all I want is a loyal dog – a lot to ask for. It’s selfish but if I had a dog like that, that after my death still misses me, still waits for me, it would give my life more meaning than I can ever imagine. It’s sad but I wish I had that type of loyalty in my life. And if I ever felt it, I’d be given the opportunity to give it back. Because it is a gift given to you. The devotion. It’s a gift. A massive gift. And I used to think belonged only to fairy tales. But this film is based on a true story and to continue to live, I must hope that it could be a reality too.

In the end it’s not what you have achieved in life, the millions you make, the number of degrees you have or what you have in terms of materials things – in the end, I believe it’s the people or pets you leave behind that cared about you that matters. That’s what really matters most. Call me overly sentimental, I don’t care. Death brings equality to all – everyone is in the end reduced to bone or dust – the only thing not equal is how you are remembered by those who loved you.

I wonder if I could ever inspire that sort of loyalty.

What about you?

Have you ever felt that type of loyalty?