Kafka on the Shore – I should have written down at each phase of the journey that the book took me through. It was a varied set of emotions right from the start; from absolute love, awe, annoyment, disappointment to respect. Somehow I had previously heard that Norwegian Wood was the best Murakami novel, but reading the book only left me disappointed. After having resolved never to pick up another of his works, I decided to give another shot when I came across Kafka on the Shore. It was a brilliant book that started off, building on a lot of mysteries, written in an exquisite style that was deep. I loved the portrayal of Oshima, through whom Murakami debates on abstract concepts. And his books are always full of references to a lot of other literary and musical works. A man who’s so dedicated to the arts?!
But then, as I went on flipping the pages, I found that none of the mysteries were getting unraveled, rather getting knotted up deeper and deeper with no logical explanation. Even as the right side part of the book I held, kept growing thinner.. still no logical reasoning that I could assume for any and I couldn’t help getting annoyed. There I was, sitting with the finished book, staring blankly into the walls, wondering ‘What had I been reading so long?!’. There are so many things on the plot that you could argue about, but all that am not going to delve into.
Thinking over, the respect grew back as I understood that this is one of the best open-ended books there could be and it’s not at all for passive reading. Murakami shares his dream with the reader and challenges to dream along with him. It’s one of those fantasies that don’t require a logical explanation and you choose to either imagine all you want or apply a logical closure. On the whole, Kafka on the Shore is one of those books that has made an impact on me and I’ll be reading it through again, sooner or later.
Anilicious 