South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami

I had mixed feelings about South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami. So mixed, in fact, that I couldn't talk myself into rating it at Goodreads. 

South of the Border, West of the Sun is told in first person from the viewpoint of Hajime, an only child who feels out of place until he meets Shimamoto, who is also an only child. They remain playmates and friends for years, till his family moves away and they lose touch. Over the years, Hajime meets (and sleeps with) many women but Shimamoto has a special place in his heart and he even follows a woman who looks like her and has her same limp, at one point. He marries, has two children and his jazz bar becomes a success. He's mostly content. 

Then, Shimamoto reappears in his life, having seen an article about his jazz bar. Hajime is every bit as drawn to her as he was when they were young. She is different, more beautiful, no longer limping, and mysterious. There are questions she won't answer, things he doesn't know about her. Will Hajime stay faithful to his wife? Or, will he leave her for Shimamoto? 

Meh - I still don't feel like I can rate this book. I found it compelling enough to finish and I think that's mostly down to Murakami's writing. He does know how to suck you in. But, Hajime is kind of a yucky person. He's selfish when it comes to women, taking what he wants from them but giving little in return. You can't really root for him. And, Shimamoto's mysteriousness made her feel more like a vague outline of a character than one with color and depth. She was so incomplete that I closed the book unsure whether she was real or a figment of the main character's imagination. 

After a week and the decision that I'm definitely not going to rate the book, what most stands out for me is the feeling I'll forget about it pretty quickly. The one thing I really loved about the book was the use of motifs. But, here I must confess that I didn't know the word "motif" as it relates to literature. I'm probably the last to find out about this but OK. Here's what google told me after I read about the book and the word "motif" came up.

What is a motif in literature? 

Motif is a literary technique that consists of a repeated element that has symbolic significance to a literary work. Sometimes a motif is a recurring image. Other times it's a repeated word, phrase, or topic expressed in language. 

In South of the Border, West of the Sun, there are a large number of words or motifs that are repeated: rain, the color blue, and looking out at a graveyard are a few I recall. I don't always know what various images stand for in literature (so I often end up looking them up — I looked up crows as a metaphor when they appeared in a particular scene, for example). 

This may be simplistic on my part but I'd rather an author show or tell me what he's on about. And, yet, I thought the use of motifs was effective. So, while I didn't love the book, primarily because of Hajime's selfishness, I don't regret having read it. And, good grief, you could spend loads of time reading everyone's analysis of this book.

Some bits of information I found helpful:

The ‘South of the Border’ of the title refers to the popular 1939 song recorded for a film of the same name. As children Hajime and Shimamoto used to listen to a Nat King Cole recording of it (although in reality, Cole never recorded the song). Not knowing it refers to a trip to Mexico, Shimamoto used to wonder about what magical place lay south of the border. “Something beautiful, big and soft”. The ‘West of the Sun’ refers to a form of hysteria Shimamoto says afflicts people living in Siberia, possibly similar to Piblokto, where for no reason they abandon their life in difficult conditions and wander westward, usually dying of exposure.

--from We Need to Talk About Books

And, from Google:

"South of the Border", meaning a life of convention, possibility, and ultimately, disappointment, and "West of the Sun", meaning taking a step beyond reason, and in doing so risking everything [...]

Clearly, I'm going to need to read more Murakami. I've mostly read his short stories and nonfiction. I'll try to tackle one of his longer novels when I can fit it in. 

©2021 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

We need to talk about this - The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami

I'd write up a summary of The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami but I think it's far better to let those who haven't read it experience this wacky novella without any forewarning (except, you know, everyone's talking about the guy in the sheep costume). I had theories about the meaning of various characters, their behavior, the deepy darkness, and all that lot. But, then I got to the end and was all full of WHAT THE HELL???

Help me out here, people. Have you read anything about this book and its meaning? Do you have theories you'd like to share? Discuss, please.

Also, let's just say anyone who hasn't read the book should not peruse the comments; I presume any theories will contain spoilers of some sort.

Incidentally, love the presentation. The Strange Library is quite a little gem. I don't love the fact that you have to fold the funky cover behind the book to read, but the illustrations are fabulous and I agree with those who've said it feels like you're holding something special in your hands during the reading.

©2015 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

Minis - The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories 2 by HitRecord, Aesop's Fables (illus. by Santore) & Underground by Murakami

These three mini reviews are the last book reviews I'll be doing for the year.  I may post once or twice more and then I'm going on holiday for a few weeks.  I'm already a little late walking away for Christmas season, as I usually do.  

I was extremely excited when I heard the second Tiny Book of Tiny Stories had been released, since the first version was so fun I read it repeatedly and foisted my favorite pages on the spouse.  

And, then I read the book and felt a little let-down. But, that was only my first impression.  There was so much wit and humor in the first Tiny Book of Tiny Stories that I expected the same.  The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories 2 is not quite as witty and a lot of the combined stories and illustrations are a little on the "bummer, this makes me a little sad" side.

However, on the second reading I started to discover my favorites and . . . you've got it . . . foisted them on the spouse.  I only share things I really love with Huzzybuns -- stories or illustrations that make me laugh, smile, or ponder.  And, there were plenty of stories and illustrations that made me smile, although they seemed fewer and farther between.

The difference between Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 of The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories?  Well, there are a couple differences.  In the first release, there was a great deal of work by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, aka "Regular Joe", and he's an extremely clever guy with a terrific sense of humor.  This time, he edited with "wirrow" but didn't contribute, otherwise.  I think wirrow simply has a different way of looking at things, a little more pensive and even sorrowful.  But, The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories 2 is about twice as thick as The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories (the original).  So . . . there's plenty for everyone and I think it's another stocking-worthy book.  I love the mix of art and thought-provoking stories in both books and can't wait for the third and final release.  In fact, I hope they go beyond three publications. Highly recommended (although at first I was hesitant).

Aesop's Fables is illustrated by Charles Santore. Let's just stop right there because the words "illustrated by Charles Santore" are enough to make this gal put on the proverbial brakes.  Have you heard of Charles Santore or picked up a book he's illustrated?  If not, you are missing out on one heck of an eyeball feast.  Santore's illustrations are rendered with enviable skill and beauty, in this case with delightful expressions on the faces of various animals.

There are no humans in Santore's version of Aesop's Fables. Instead, Santore chose a selection of stories, rewrote them in his own words and illustrated with only animals as subjects.

I've always loved Aesop's Fables and have particular favorites.  My personal favorites are still the same, although one is not in Charles Santore's Aesop's Fables and Santore may have either introduced me to a few fables I missed or merely reminded me of their existence.  At any rate, there's not much you can do to screw up Aesop, apart from poorly rewriting the stories and I think he did a decent job, although a "moral" or two was worded differently from the way I learned them.

It's the illustrations that make Charles Santore's books shine and Aesop's Fables is no exception.  Highly recommended, especially for mothers or children who love to stare at the details of gorgeous illustrations.

Underground by Haruki Murakami is the one book I wouldn't advise you to rush out and buy for last-minute Christmas gifting, although Underground is a fascinating read.  It's just that reading about people gasping for breath and going blind is not particularly cheerful reading material.

Underground is Murakami's attempt to understand the Tokyo sarin attack that took place in 1995 by interviewing both people who were poisoned or close to a victim and some of the Aum cult members, none of whom were directly involved in the poisoning.  He also spends a little time evaluating what went wrong and how to avoid such disastrous results if they were to recur.

I knew very little about the sarin attack -- or, coordinated attacks, I should say.  The puncturing of bags full of sarin took place in a number of different trains.  Death and injury in the subway trains and various stations were due to a combination of ignorance (no knowledge of sarin's effects, in spite of a previous attack), very poor communication, the lack of preparation for large-scale disaster and the Japanese tendency to stick to routine in spite of some pretty dramatic signs of danger or illness.

Underground started out a little slowly for me.  I'm not sure what I expected, but in many cases the personal accounts were rather bland.  Relatively few of the victims were even willing to speak to Murakami because they didn't want to think about their experience, much less discuss it.  However, there are a few accounts that are incredibly moving, particular those of the brother of a woman who was still barely able to move or communicate when the book went to press (but remained stunningly cheerful), the young widow of a man who died and the young man's parents.  The section with interviews of people who belonged to Aum is fascinating for the look into the personalities and why people join such a group, as much as the machinations of cult life and the attack.

I thought it was particularly interesting to hear the thoughts of one woman who had lived in the U.S. for a year  She said if the same thing happened in America, people would have reacted with urgency and noise, speaking up about feeling ill and insisting on immediate action.  I can't argue with that.  I spent a lot of time imagining what the response would be like elsewhere before I got to her comment.

Highly recommended - An interesting view inside both the lives of people who were affected by the sarin attack and those who were involved in Aum (which I think the government of Japan eventually gave religious status and which apparently still exists under a new name and leader, although it has all the hallmarks of a cult).

©2012 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.