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jackysherwoodI've read a number of Haruki Murakami's novels now. Wild Sheep Chase was my first, and I loved it for the way it played with perception and reality. For the same reason I was quite fond of After Dark. Norwegian Wood was his best seller, but I found that one heavy going. Full of melancholy and nostalgia, but rather intense.
I get that same sense with South of the Border, West of the Sun. The story follows a man, Hajime, through childhood until middle age, as he struggles to come to terms with himself and his love for his childhood sweetheart, Shimamoto.
What I liked about this book was the honesty in it. The main character struggles to reinvent himself, to be someone better. But in the end he has to admit, he'd do the same again. There are parts of him that won't change, even if it means hurting those he loves.
The mysterious Shimamoto is the only woman Hajime has ever truly connected with, and when she turns up again after he's married and with kids, he realises he'd give everything up for her. He can't have her however, for she won't tell him anything about herself or when she can and cannot visit. She disappears for long periods, and his life and marriage descend into chaos because he can think of nothing else.
When they do meet, they talk about the past, and about wishing things had been different, whilst knowing that they couldn't be. The novel is permeated with this kind of "it can't be helped" feeling.
That rung rather true for me. No matter how much you wish you could control your life, it takes only the smallest error and your plans are derailed forever.
However, for as much as I got out of the book, I found it ultimately a bit disappointing. Some of the conversations sounded a little contrived (I'll give it the benefit of the doubt through translation to English), and Shimamoto was so mysterious that I didn't really care about her.
There's a reality disconnect near the end, where the question of whether Hajime ever met Shimamoto hangs in the air, but for my taste, not enough weird stuff happened. I'll confess, I love it when weird stuff happens. My next Murakami novel will definitely be one of the weird ones.
I get that same sense with South of the Border, West of the Sun. The story follows a man, Hajime, through childhood until middle age, as he struggles to come to terms with himself and his love for his childhood sweetheart, Shimamoto.
What I liked about this book was the honesty in it. The main character struggles to reinvent himself, to be someone better. But in the end he has to admit, he'd do the same again. There are parts of him that won't change, even if it means hurting those he loves.
The mysterious Shimamoto is the only woman Hajime has ever truly connected with, and when she turns up again after he's married and with kids, he realises he'd give everything up for her. He can't have her however, for she won't tell him anything about herself or when she can and cannot visit. She disappears for long periods, and his life and marriage descend into chaos because he can think of nothing else.
When they do meet, they talk about the past, and about wishing things had been different, whilst knowing that they couldn't be. The novel is permeated with this kind of "it can't be helped" feeling.
"[...]But there is one thing I am certain about: I never, ever would have been bored with you. That, at least makes me different from other people you knew. In that sense I am indeed a special person for you."
[...]
"Hajime," she began, "the sad truth is that some things can't go backwards. Once they start going forward, no matter what you do, they can't go back to the way they were. If even one little thing goes awry, then that's how it will stay forever."
That rung rather true for me. No matter how much you wish you could control your life, it takes only the smallest error and your plans are derailed forever.
However, for as much as I got out of the book, I found it ultimately a bit disappointing. Some of the conversations sounded a little contrived (I'll give it the benefit of the doubt through translation to English), and Shimamoto was so mysterious that I didn't really care about her.
There's a reality disconnect near the end, where the question of whether Hajime ever met Shimamoto hangs in the air, but for my taste, not enough weird stuff happened. I'll confess, I love it when weird stuff happens. My next Murakami novel will definitely be one of the weird ones.
