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    <name><![CDATA[Akiva]]></name>
    <location><![CDATA[San Francisco, CA]]></location>        
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  <id type="integer">4929</id>
  <isbn>1400079276</isbn>
  <isbn13>9781400079278</isbn13>
  <ratings_count type="integer">14096</ratings_count>
  <text_reviews_count type="integer">1701</text_reviews_count>
  <title>Kafka on the Shore</title>
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  <link>http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4929.Kafka_on_the_Shore</link>
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  <id type="integer">3354</id>
  <name>Haruki Murakami</name>
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    <rating>4</rating>
  <votes>0</votes>
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  <read_at>Sat Jun 27 00:00:00 -0700 2009</read_at>
  <date_added>Fri Jun 12 18:24:37 -0700 2009</date_added>
  <date_updated>Sat Jun 27 22:23:08 -0700 2009</date_updated>
  <read_count></read_count>
    <body><![CDATA[I first read this about a year or two ago. It seemed like something I would like, a little literary, a little dreamy, a little weird. I read it quickly and it had a lot of positive qualities, but somehow I didn't actually like it very much. My vague impression was that somehow the author was cheating, but I couldn't quite figure out what that meant. I was given a copy of Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (which is a wonderful title) and had the same response. Eventually, I developed a theory. Basically, his characters aren't people and his plots aren't plots. Also, all the sex is weird. This is also true of e.g. A Hundred Years of Solitude, which I absolutely adore. I think part of the difference is that the characters in that are larger than life, but Murakami's characters are sort of sideways from lifelike. Also, in A Hundred Years of Solitude, the fantastic elements sneak in (I guess that that is the realism in magical realism) but here some serious unexplained weird stuff just happens all the time. There are no constraints on what could happen. It follows dream logic not story logic. For example, one of the characters, whenever he needs to figure out what to do next will sleep for an extremely long time then wake up knowing how to advance the plot.<br/><br/>Out of new books to read and looking for something on my shelf, I decided to pick this up and give it a second chance, this time with the understanding that I was going to see Murakami's auctorial hand visibly moving around his oddly shaped pieces. Sure enough, I liked it much better. The book has a lot of evocative imagery and is very readable. While it doesn't really make any sense, it fits together in a clever jigsaw way and ends rather poignantly. In a lot of ways, the literal parts are metaphor and the metaphors are literal.]]></body>
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