The Ruined Map

by Kōbō Abe

Of all the great Japanese novelists, Kobe Abe was indubitably the most versatile. With The Ruined Map, he crafted a mesmerizing literary crime novel that combines the narrative suspense of Chandler with the psychological depth of Dostoevsky.

Mr. Nemuro, a respected salesman, disappeared over half a year ago, but only now does his alluring yet alcoholic wife hire a private eye. The nameless detective has but two clues: a photo and a matchbook. With these he embarks upon an ever more puzzling pursuit that leads him into the depths of Tokyo’s dangerous underworld, where he begins to lose the boundaries of his own identity. Surreal, fast-paced, and hauntingly dreamlike, Abe’s masterly novel delves into the unknowable mysteries of the human mind.

Translated from the Japanese by E. Dale Saunders.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Mystery, Literary Fiction, Crime, Literature

304 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1967

About the author

Kōbō Abe (安部 公房 Abe Kōbō), pseudonym of Kimifusa Abe, was a Japanese writer, playwright, photographer, and inventor.

He was the son of a doctor and studied medicine at Tokyo University. He never practised however, giving it up to join a literary group that aimed to apply surrealist techniques to Marxist ideology.

Abe has been often compared to Franz Kafka and Alberto Moravia for his surreal, often nightmarish explorations of individuals in contemporary society and his modernist sensibilities.

He was first published as a poet in 1947 with Mumei shishu ("Poems of an unknown poet") and as a novelist the following year with Owarishi michi no shirube ni ("The Road Sign at the End of the Street"), which established his reputation. Though he did much work as an avant-garde novelist and playwright, it was not until the publication of The Woman in the Dunes in 1962 that he won widespread international acclaim.

In the 1960s, he collaborated with Japanese director Hiroshi Teshigahara in the film adaptations of The Pitfall, Woman in the Dunes, The Face of Another and The Ruined Map. In 1973, he founded an acting studio in Tokyo, where he trained performers and directed plays. He was elected a Foreign Honorary Member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1977.

Reviews

[Fernando · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nuevamente leo un libro de mi escritor japonés preferido: Kobo Abe. Si bien reconozco que no leo asiduamente literatura japonesa (además de Abe, sólo he leído “El marino que perdió la gracia del mar” de Yukio Mishima y “Crónica del pájaro que da cuerda al mundo” de Haruki Murakami), cada vez que me encuentro con un libro de este excelente escritor, apodado “el Kafka japonés”, me entusiasmo porque sé que va a ser una lectura agradable.
Luego de leer libros suyos como “Los cuentos siniestros”, tal vez el más kafkiano de todos, así también como “El rostro ajeno” y “Encuentros secretos” le tocó el turno a “El mapa calcinado” y nuevamente me he sumergido en esos mundos ficcionarios que sólo él puede construir.
El argumento del libro es netamente del género policial negro en el cual un detective sin nombre tiene que investigar el caso de un empresario desaparecido, el señor Nemuro, pero para el cual tiene muy pocos datos con qué iniciar dicha investigación. Tan pocos como los testigos y la evidencia con la que cuenta, lo cual dificulta en gran medida su accionar detectivesco.
Sólo tiene la información que le brinda la bucólica y misteriosa esposa del desaparecido, así también como el cuñado de Nemuro, un personaje de características demasiado extrañas y un empleado subalterno del empresario, llamado Tashiro. También posee una deteriorada caja de fósforos de distintos colores, con un número de teléfono anotado en ella y nada más.
Tiene que moverse a ciegas, buscar a tientas y poner mucho esfuerzo, tiempo, dinero y nervios para poder llegar a alguna pista que le aclare el panorama. Tan sólo conoce un bar, el Tsubaki, en donde vieron por última vez a Nemuro y su intuición. El resto es misterio.
Este detective es altamente analítico y metódico. Trata de poner en juego todas las herramientas posibles, pero con escaso éxito.
Una característica de la narrativa de Abe es la detalladísima (exagerada) descripción que hace del ambiente, las cosas, las actitudes y las personas con la que se cruza. Todo es explicado en primera persona como si fuera una de esas novelas propias del Realismo del siglo XIX que satura un poco, porque “adorna” la escena, pero no avanza con la historia. De todos modos es un detalle que se soporta, puesto que la atención por parte del lector está en el caso investigado.
Creo que “El mapa calcinado” es la menos kafkiana de todas las novelas de Abe, más allá de la complejidad y la inaccesibilidad a la que está sujeta el detective. No está este rasgo tan marcado como en “Encuentros secretos” en donde sí nos encontramos con un personaje realmente perdido y sujeto a extrañísimas condiciones, inmerso dentro de un mundo de leyes que por momento son de naturaleza casi onírica.
Aquí la imposibilidad surge de las pocas pistas y de las personas esquivas pero hay algo que sí debo reconocer: en un momento, casi sobre el tramo final de la historia, Kobo Abe emplea una técnica muy conocida en los relatos de Julio Cortázar, aplicando una cinta de Moebius y de buenas a primeras, todo se da vuelta.
El narrador sigue contando en primera persona lo que le sucede, pero parece ya no ser el mismo que ocupó gran parte del libro, pero algo ha cambiado: comienza a contar algo que al principio parece inconexo pero que tiene que ver con el caso investigado.
Pero, ¿qué es?, ¿por qué este brusco cambio? Y el final: ¿por quién está narrado de esa manera?
Lo dejo a criterio de aquel que quiera leer esta gran novela del genial Kobo Abe para que intente descubrir al igual que el narrador cuál es el paradero del desaparecido señor Nemuro.
Buena suerte.

[Jack Tripper · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've never read a novel so overly descriptive yet vague at the same time. The nameless private eye would spend paragraphs describing the angle of an object in relation to the rest of the room, and yet I didn't have much of a grasp on what was going on half the time. I know that's partially the intent here, to leave the reader disoriented, but I was never able to fully become absorbed into the story, as often there was nothing substantial for me to latch onto, and sometimes no transition from one scene to the next. That so many of the characters speak in non sequiturs did nothing to help me regain my footing.

Don't get me wrong, I love me some weirdness, even if it's just for weirdness' sake, but the fact that I never felt invested in anything that was happening resulted in pure boredom at various times. Maybe the fault lies in the fact that I treated this too much like a mystery to be solved, instead of just enjoying it for what it is: a strange, psychological exploration of identity, and the loss of identity. I will say, however, that the ending was very well done and made the previous 280-some arduous pages worth it in the end, if only just.

3.0 Stars

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Sabahları konserve gibi dolu trenlerde sıkış tıkış giderken bazen öyle korkuyorum ki. Normalde sırf, belki birkaç, belki onlarca, belki yüzlerce kişiyle ilişkimiz var diye bu dünyada belli bir yerimiz var sanıyoruz. Oysa çok daha yakınımda etrafımı konserve kutusu gibi saran tüm bu insanlar yabancı. Hem de bu yabancıların sayısı çok daha fazla.’
.
Kobo Abe beni her defasında sisli bir ormanın ortasında bırakıyor. Başlangıçta ellerimi tutuyor, yol gösteriyor. Ve sonra diyor ki ‘artık yalnızsın’ ve ben kayboluyorum.
Bu sefer elime bir harita veriyor: Hiroshi Nemuro kayıp.
Ben o ormandan çıkıp; ucu bucağı yok gibi görünen bir yerde onu arıyorum. Şaşırmamalıyım aslında, çünkü “şehir-kapalı bir sonsuzluk”..
Toprağı kazmak gibi.
Kazdıkça içinden ne çıkacağını bilemeyip; o çukura düşme pahasına merakına yenilmek gibi..
.
İçimizdeki kuytuları anlatıyor Kobo Abe. Gizliden gizliye kaçış isteğimizi, söylemekten korktuğumuz düşleri..
Ve göz kamaştıran nokta ise hepimizin birbirimizle bir bağ kurduğunu göstermesi..
Yola çıkan da, yolda olan da, hatta yolu düşleyen de bu bağın içinde..
Yine çok sevdim..
.
Çeviride Kumların Kadını ve Başkasının Yüzü’nde de yer alan Barış Bayıksel yer almakta..Umarım nice kitapla kesişir yollarımız..
.
Sancar Salman’a ait kapak tasarımı ise büyüleyici. O katlanma izleri, içinizdeki yollar.. Parsel parsel ayrılış..
Nihayetinde et kemiğe bürünüş..

[Nate D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Urban malaise. Noir. Fragmented experience. Anonymity of crowds to the point of obliteration. Dislocation within a manufactured landscape. Dislocation within one's own life and experiences in a postmodern world. Surfaces / underworlds.

This is Abe's novel of the City. Even when his adherence to and rejection of seeming plot mechanics appear at odds, the gestalt holds this together beautifully.

[S̶e̶a̶n̶ · Rating 3 out of 5]

While it’s not top-tier Abe in my opinion, The Ruined Map is not without its merits. Any subversion of the detective genre is going to win me over at least to some degree. And subvert Abe does, though here almost to a fault. The plot—such as it is—ostensibly follows the efforts of the narrator, a private investigator, to locate the missing husband of his client, a rather eccentric, reticent young woman now living alone and cloistered in her apartment within a vast housing estate. To say the 'plot' gets bogged down in the narrator’s own existential meanderings would be an understatement. At the heart of his circuitous and often banal movements, he is really just investigating himself, as he eventually admits:

This blackness I am seeking is after all merely my own self…my own map, revealed by my brain.

This admission should come as no surprise to the reader. The themes at play here are pretty standard fare for Abe: identity, isolation, alienation, otherness, and escape. (Not that I'm complaining.) Usually there’s some awkward eroticism thrown in for good measure, and that is certainly the case here. Some of the prose is just over-the-top ridiculous:

The color of her skin was that of a mellowed piece of unpainted furniture in which age and freshness smoothly fused.

Really, Abe? Sometimes I’m tempted to pin this sort of absurdity on the translation, but E. Dale Saunders has translated a lot of Abe’s work and I’ve never had any complaints about his translations before. So, I suspect this might just be Abe being Abe. Toward the end, the narrative (d)evolves(?) into a sort of denouement to what Abe has been dancing around with from the beginning of the book.* I won’t say anymore because readers who make it all the way through to the end deserve discovering for themselves the final specimen laid out for dissection.

*Note: there is a connection between this novel and Abe's short story 'Beyond the Curve' that reveals itself toward the end of the book, but although I've read the story, unfortunately I didn't have it on hand for a reread and close comparison.

[Aslı Can]

20. yüzyılın sonlarına doğru yazılmış bu roman. Savaşlar, atom bombaları, soykırımlar- hanım koş televizyonda Vietnam Savaşı gösteriliyor. Beyaz yakalı işçiler her yerde, metrolar tıklım tıkış, her yer reklam, her yer pırıl pırıl; şehirler yeniden düzenlenmiş, sokaklar labirent gibi, gerçekten insanın kaybolması işten bile değil. Telefonlar: zır zır; fotoğraf makineleri: şak şak- her yer araba- pavyonlar aynı pavyonlar ama artık ışıl ışıl göz alıyor; insanlık ilerliyor!

Hastalıklar şipşak çözülüyor mesela; her deliye bir psikolog, suçluya gardiyan, hırsıza polis, gençlerimize aydın öğretmenler ve sürpriiz: güvenlik kameraları her yerde. Artık güvendesiniz!

''Bu kütüphane sizlerin güvenliği için anlık olarak güvenlik kameralarıyla izlenmektedir.''
Ama kameraların erişemediği yerler de yok denemez ve bu karanlık köşelerde kötü şeyler olmuyor değil; mesela çözümü imkansız görünen, katili belirsiz ve akıllıca! işlenmiş bir cinayet. Hımm, bu gariban öğrenciyi hangi kitap öldürdü???

Dur bir dakika, birini tanıyorum: müthiş zekası, akıl yürütme becerisi ve üstün yetenekleriyle sır perdesini aralayan, her gizemi çözen- karanlık köşeleri spot ışıklarıyla aydınlatarak gerçeği - o müthiş GERÇEĞİ! - açığa çıkaran biri: bir dedektif!

-Burada neler döndüğünü beş dakikada anlar ama bize anlatması yüzlerce sayfa sürebilir.

Virane Harita bir dedektif anlatısı. Ama öyle bildiğimiz türden akıl yürütmeler ve sonuca ulaşmalar yok bu kez. Kobo Abe, aradığını bir türlü bulamayan bir dedektifle tanıştırıyor bizi. Akıl yürütmeleriyle bir sonuca varamayan, gücü yetmeyen, yet-e-meyen, yorgun, mütereddit ve aradığı gerçeğin peşinde dolanırken kaybolan bir dedektif.

İyi de öyle şey mi olur canım, dedektif dediğin...

Sahi, dedektif romanları neden bu kadar popüler?

(sokakta amaçszca yürüyen biri - aralık perdeden sızan sarı ışık dikkatini çeker- şöyle etrafı kolaçan ettikten sonra içeriye bir göz atmanın kimseye zararı olmayacağını düşünür- belki birinin başına bir şey gelmiştir ve yardımı dokunabilir- yaklaşır: içeride bir kadın... )

--

Virane Harita, Kutu Adam'dan altı yıl önce yazılmış ve içerik olarak bambaşka görünseler de aslında işlenen kavramlar ortak. Biçim olarak Virane Harita çok daha homojen ve okunması kolay, açık bir anlatımı var. Bu yönüyle sırrına eremediğimiz Kutu Adam'ı ve dolayısıyla teşhir-gözetleme-dikiz kültürünü anlamak için müthiş bir rehber. Müthiş bir dedektif romanı. Kobo Abe, açıları özenle ayarlanmış aynalarla şehrin labirentlerinden görüntüler yansıtıyor bize. Aynaya bakarak çıkışı bulup labirentten kurtulduğunda ise, artık sadece aynada bir görüntü haline geldiğini fark ediyorsun. Kurtulman için söylemen büyülü sözleri ise, yalnızca sen biliyorsun!

[Drew · Rating 3 out of 5]

All I can really say about this one is that it's like City of Glass, but more substantial and textured. Which is to say, the plots of the two are nearly the same--possibly incompetent private eye investigates what may be a crime, but the case is set aside in favor of an identity crisis for the narrator. The difference is that Abe at least has some good old-fashioned prose style, whereas Auster lacks in that area (as far as I can tell), among others.

A few examples, and again, these aren't supposed to be examples of Great Prose...only competent, just interesting enough to keep you reading:

"If I believed her literally--or the words she spoke to herself--within these thirty some paces an unreasonable and unforeseen event had lain in wait for him. And as a result of it he had not only disregarded the appointment at S---- station, but had boldly and irreversibly stepped across a chasm, turning his back on the world." (Interesting that the private eye seems to consider the subject's reappearance impossible, right from the beginning)

"Although it was dead winter a huge green bottlefly, slipping and sliding, was buzzing as it tried to crawl up the shade over the electric light; it kept circling around but there was no need to worry: flies know the seasons better than humans, and their wisdom is great."

And from toward the end of the book, where the prose gets a little more muddled and abstract (in a good way, if one has the patience):

"If I could get them to take her at my wife's place, the membrane between the frog's toes would be even more beautiful--like purple rubber. What was broken? What was left? Again the usual face appeared in the veneer ceiling printed with the straight-grain cypress wood . . . a laughing moon . . . why was the dream I had a couple of times a year, where I was pursued by a laughing full moon, so frightening? It was still a puzzle I could not understand no matter how I racked my brains." (This is the only place in the book that the laughing moon dream is mentioned)

And from only a few pages later, opening up a chapter:

"I could only assume someone was watching me."

So Abe does a good job of making this plot believable--you can see the narrator's gradual descent into paranoia and, ultimately, incoherence, whereas Auster gives us nothing of the sort--while providing us with some interesting scenery along the way. But seeing as it elicited from me nothing more than a shrug, I can't in good conscience recommend it to anyone.

[Matthew · Rating 1 out of 5]

The biggest mystery contained in this novel is why E Dale Saunders felt it was necessary to translate it into English. The book follows an unnamed detective on a missing persons case that leads him to such savory encounters as with the leader of a male prostitution ring, a swarmy voyeur who commits suicide and the client without any personality who drinks in her house all day. The entire book is nausea-inducing. The writing is desciptive, but it is wasted on the mundane, the seedy urban filth of the industial outskirts and housing blocks of Tokyo. On top of that, the mystery is never solved. It is not even apparent if the clues he found were even real clues. The first person narrator seems to pass from depression and moral ambiguity into delerium and attempts to drag the reader down with him. Take heed: stay well away from this loser.

[Demet · Rating 3 out of 5]

Virane Harita için İsa Darakcı'nın aşağıdaki linkte yer alan K24'teki yazısını okumasaydım içine biraz gizem katılmış sıradan bir dedektif hikayesi diyebilirdim. Film noir türünün güzel bir örneği olan hikaye benim için bu yazı ile anlamlı hale geldi.

*ilgilenenler için link
https://t24.com.tr/k24/kitap/virane-h...

[David Keffer · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of most inviting aspects to reading The Ruined Map (1966) is that it is, essentially, a mystery novel. There is a desire harbored in the heart of every devotee of contemporary literature who began life as a fan of genre fiction, be it mystery, western, or science fiction; and that is to see an established literary master direct his skills to one's beloved genre, to enrich and redeem it with a creation that is elegant, thoughtful, and most of all, literary. The Ruined Map satisfies this craving for the mystery aficionado -- the protagonist is a detective and first-person narrator of the novel, and it begins with a missing persons form, filed by a wife in search of her husband.
But this is no simple mystery. The ruined map of the title is a symbol with multiple meanings. In one sense, it's the map leading the detective to his quarry; ruined because it is incomplete and must be interpolated with clues. In a broader sense, the map is a guide for living. Here, we again see the existentialist emerge -- of course, there is no absolute guide for living, and thus the map is ruined. Because the map is flawed, the detective cannot limit himself to safe places, and must adopt a trial and error approach to his explorations, wandering into unsavory and dangerous -- both physically and mentally locales.


"He says a single map for life is all you need. It's a saying of his. The world is a forest, a woods, full of wild beasts and poisonous insects. You should go only through places where everyone goes, places that are considered absolutely safe, he says."

The existence of the map is crucial because the detective does not have an internal compass and relies exclusively upon the external guidance provided by the map. Ultimately, we see that the ruination of the map causes a loss of orientation and eventually identity itself. Due to its incompleteness, the map is incapable of providing direction to the detective, and he becomes lost. This first loss is gradually followed by a second, more profound loss -- that of self. We see finally that reliance on a map to give us direction is doomed, because a complete, absolute map does not exist, and any attempts to assemble one are inherently flawed and impossible.

[withdrawn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my fifth Abe book. Generally I'm intrigued with his books which have a very surreal feel to them.

The Ruined Map starts off in a standard pulp crime novel format. Anything but surreal. Not being a real fan of the genre, I was sceptical. Not my Abe. On the other hand it was quite readable so I continued.

The unnamed detective searching for a missing husband slowly wanders ever deeper into a labyrinthine, darkened world where he loses more and more confidence in himself and the world around him.

The ending is a twist of identity wherein both the narrator and the reader must question what has been described. What has actually happened and who is missing? Who is searching? How can anyone just disappear?
Abe show's exactly how. Cool.

Good story.

[Amy · Rating 3 out of 5]

For me, the highlights of The Box Man had to do with the level of weirdness combined with a comment on identity and dropping-out of society. These themes come up often in the films I have seen based on Abe novels as well (Woman in the Dunes, Face of Another) Unfortunately, The Ruined Map is quite lacking in every way.

This time Abe presents us with a fairly straightforward mystery. There are a couple of diversions into bizarre Japanese underworld territories, but overall these didn't really capture my attention. In fact, I am sad to say, that I was often quite bored while reading this, and found my mind often wandering onto unrelated subjects. The characters were flat, the sexiness felt forced, and the "shocker" moments could hardly rouse any emotion. It was by no means a terrible book, just not Abe at the top of his game, and sure to be very forgettable.

[Kathleen · Rating 5 out of 5]

"When you're driving, you never want to think of stopping. You want the moment to go on forever just as it is. But when it's over, you shudder at a state like that, with no end. There's a big difference between driving and thinking about driving."

[Larnacouer de SH · Rating 2 out of 5]

“Bir süre önce otobana çıktım.”
“Niye, ne oldu?”
“Arabayı sürerken, keşke böyle sonsuza kadar devam edebilsem; ne güzel olurdu diye düşündüm. İnanır mısınız bir an için devam edebilecekmiş gibi de oldum. Fakat şimdi o anki ruh halimi hatırladıkça tüylerim ürperiyor. Öyle değil mi? Bu dileğin gerçekleştiğini ve ne kadar sürerseniz sürün, nereye kadar giderseniz gidin, sonsuza kadar varış noktasındaki gişeye ulaşamadığınız bir düşünsenize.”
“Merak etmeyin. Nasıl olsa yarım günde benzininiz biter.”

//

Kitaptan nerdeyse nefret etme kıvamına gelmiş bir okur bitse de gitsek telaşıyla oturduğu kitabın başından iç çekerek kalkıyor “bu neydi şimdi?!” diye gözü uzaklara dalıyorsa muhtemelen Kobo Abe kitabı okumuştur, tecrübeyle sabit.

Allah affetsin ama bir noktadan sonra anlamadım kitabı muhtemelen.
Metaforların tamamı bana geçti mi hiç emin değilim bu nedenle böyle bir puan veriyor ve okuduğum onca Kobo Abe kitabının bana verdiği yetkiye dayanarak şunu söylemek istiyorum; kendisini özlediğiniz zaman değil, öylesine bir günde hiç değil, yalnızca zihninizin metaforları kaldıracağı gün okuyunuz.

Kobo Abe külliyatında sonlara itelenebilir gibi. Ama ben sona bıraktım da n’oldu tartışma konusu.
Ay ne bileyim yaaa.
Kobo Abe böyle biri işte. Sudan çıkmış balığa çevirdi yine bizi, Allah razı olsun.

[Marine Hovhannisyan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Հավատս չի գալիս,որ արդեն 4-րդ վեպն եմ կարդում Աբեից (իսկապես` ինչքան լավը պետք է լինի,որ ուզենաս բոլոր վեպերը,նովելները կարդաս): Մի հիմնական բան կա,որ իր բոլոր գործերում հանդիպում է.Մարդու օտարացումը հասարակությունից` ժամանակակից տեխնոլոգիական առաջընթացի ժամանակաշրջանում:Ինքը էնպես է խորանում ամեն դետալի մեջ,որ կարծես դու զգաս էդ ամեն ինչը ու դու մտածես:Որպես մարդ,իր մասին կարելի է ասել,որ շատ խորաթափանց է եղել,շատ հետաքրքիր անձնավորություն (իդեպ հետաքրքիր լինելը շատ դժվար է,պետք է բավականաչափ խելք ու նրբանկատություն ունենաս դրա համար) : Իսկ Աբեն նույնիսկ բժշկագետի կոչում է ստացել Ճապոնիայում,արժանացել է Ակուտագավայի հատուկ մրցանակի` <<Ավազուտների կինը>> նովելի համար:Ինքը մի իսկական հոգեբան,հետախույզ է,մարդու ներաշխարհը ուսումնասիրող:
Մի խոսքով` շատ սիրեցի

[Sümeyye Yıldız]

"Sahiden de adımı bile unutmuş gibiydim. Elimde kalan tek şey benim ben olduğuma dair bilinçti". s.225
Kaybolma hakkı yok mudur insanın, bulunmama hakkı. Dedektiflik bürosuna gelen başvuru üzerine baş karakter bir kayıbın peşine düşer. Ana meselelerden biri olan şehir, karmaşası ile karşımızda. Konuları bağlamak ve anlam kurmak şehrin katmanları gibi istiflenmiş. İnsanı ve kaybolmayı metnin arasından çıkarmak okuma emeği istiyor. Kitabı okumaya değer kılansa kitabın sonlarında. Verdiğiniz emeği, alaşağı edilmek ve hikayeyi sondan başa sarmanızla karşılaşacağınız sürprizlerle alıyorsunuz.

[Brian Bonilla · Rating 5 out of 5]

Creo que la calificación de novela policiaca no alcanza ni de lejos a describir lo que Kobo Abe logra en esta novela. La búsqueda de sentido y la pérdida del propio ser son los elementos claves en esta lectura que de seguro dejará a más de uno boquiabierto. Supremamente recomendada y espero con ansias leer más del genio de este señor.

[Ben Rogers · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maps Of Mystery

This book is a captivating mystery novel that explores the depths of human experience and understanding.

It offers a unique departure from Kōbō's previous works and offers an insightful perspective on the genre of mystery novels. I found it interesting how it was a blend of crime fiction and philosophical musings, which created a thought-provoking reading experience.
The backdrop of the mystery adds an extra layer of intrigue to the already rich themes of self-discovery and introspection.

The writing style is rich and evocative, and the characters are well-crafted and memorable. The narrative flows smoothly and kept me engaged throughout.

The background and setting of the book are skillfully crafted, providing a rich and immersive environment for the reader.

The introspective themes that Kōbō is known for are also evident in this novel, making it an enjoyable read for those who appreciate thought-provoking narratives.

While this may not be the author's best work, it is still a worthwhile read for fans of mystery novels and those interested in exploring the human condition.

Overall, I liked it, and in no way was it a ruined book.

3.7/5

[Yuri Sharon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not a novel for everyone, perhaps not even for all of those who have enjoyed Abe’s other works. Although much is described, little is explained or revealed; indeed, the twist in the narrative ribbon towards the end is, frankly, somewhat confusing (perhaps it was meant to be). A clever work that has, I think, over-reached itself.

[Ana · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have read only one single book of Kobo Abe before this one which is The Box Man. I have liked that one, I have felt the sorrows and wounds of that character, he was easily understandable because I was a teenager and probably I was feeling an outsider just like him. However, I don't think that crime novels just like this one and the ones of Auster really suit me. First of all, it seems to me that the hired detectives don't have the traits of somebody who would have issues with finding their inner person, but plain relationship problems. It is surprising for me to discover and analyse their character because they seem like mere detectives to me and suddenly their character's depth is so suffocating that I wonder where was that person before that I haven't seen him? Therefore, I don't think that the characters in these kind of novels are described enough so as to give enough hints towards their real being which is most of the times overshadowed by loooong long phrases full of suppositions. I enjoy their obsession and I think this is the only trait that makes me think of them as wanderers, still, their obsession begins to fade and then at once irrupts at the end of the novel which is the climax. Second of all, I am not pleased with the climax. After a few blows and the recognition of a truly troubled detective, he is unexpectedly in a kind of difficult situation that makes you question the gravity of the case itself which, until then, doesn't prove to be so important after all. Moreover, the case seems to be solely a way to drive the detective mad, not to solve it in any way. That burden that brings the detective on the verge of madness was always there and after some new clues, which you actually must have the courage and imagination to link, the detective finally loses his identity. In that hurricane of emotions, I can not honestly understand a thing. I know that he is a lost soul by now and that I, as a reader, I have to think, very fucking hard, what anything has to do with anything. You have no idea, until reading this book, how hard it is to actually solve the problem, that is probably the reason for which I think this is only a crime novel, not a detective novel. The crime exists, but only to highlight the detective's inner self which blooms when every trace of his is lost and when he is completely devoided of any ways to solve the mystery, until then the mystery is there but the characters are too enthralled by their own self to care. All in all, I am not trying to convince anyone to read or not to read this. Maybe some people will find the real mystery in this and be pleased with it, maybe some people will understand better the character of this type of odd detective, but I couldn't so... enjoy the book whichever side you are on! :)

[Tenma · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Ruined Map was somewhat fun and a joy to read. It was my fourth Kobo Abe book. After reading the Woman in the Dunes, the Box Man, and Secret Rendezvous, I lost hope and any interest in Abe’s work. I hated the absurdity of his writings and his erotic obsessions. I had no expectations whatsoever in the Ruined Man. But I was wrong. This turned out to be a fairly interesting and an addictive detective novel that is, for most part, rooted in reality. Almost as if written by someone else altogether. To my surprise, I liked it!

This novel tells the story of a nameless private detective who was hired by a woman to search for her husband who went missing six months earlier. Within a span of one week, the detective embarks on a mission to collect clues on the missing husband and all those acquainted with him. As he does so, he exposes few secrets of the Japanese underworld. However, unlike the more traditional detective works of the likes of Matsumoto, Higashino, and Miyabe, the Ruined Map is less about the search and more about the detective’s psychological state of mind. A major portion of the novel deals with the detective’s self-reflections as he contemplates his life in view of the circumstances surrounding the missing man's life. Although realistic, there is something surreal about this novel. I could readily see how this work could have influenced the writings of Haruki Murakami.

Despite my earlier praise, I gave this novel 3 stars. I guess it would be impossible to escape from the fact that it remains a Kobo Abe book. This was clearly evident in the final chapter and the few erotic references. The ending was too vague and too philosophical, which left me wanting for more; at least a clear conclusion to what mounted to be an elegant start. I am not really sure why the novel was titled the Ruined Map. There were no physical maps, but I am assuming it refers to how the detective viewed his life as a ruined map.

I would recommend this novel as a start to anyone who wants to read a Kobo Abe novel.

P.S. after writing the above review I think I found a possible solution to the question that Abe posited about the missing man. Simple put, and without revealing a spoiler, what the detective experienced in the last chapter is most probably the same what the man went through when he went missing.

[Nino Meladze · Rating 1 out of 5]

Прочитав эту книгу у меня осталось резкое чувство что я не поняла не-че-го! Не знаю было-ли это из-за перевода или жанр не мой... я честно дочитала пытаясь полностью погрузиться в смысл и вникнуть что-же всё-таки произошло...вообщем, извини Кобо, наши пути на время расходятся. Вот, поумнею, а потом может и пойму что вы имели в виду

[Tafelvoetbaltalentjelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Niet zo goed als the woman in the dunes maar toch gewoon 5 keiharde sterren voor meneer Abe die zijn karakters weer op het scherpst van de snede laat dansen waardoor de lezer zich wederom verplaatst naar het welbekende puntje van de stoel.

[Max Coombes · Rating 5 out of 5]

The beauty of Abe's prose is that it's so horrifically pedantic. It's a claustrophobic subjectivity devoid of the human element, or the world stripped bare then categorised and described according to its function. What Abe knows (and his narrators do not) is that there is always some evasive excess to worldly matter, and so when something in it changes the narrator becomes convinced it's conspiring to crack their brain in half. The Ruined Map works within the detective format because it is structurally conspiratorial. People and objects conceal their essence from the protagonist, and so the world recedes from comprehension the more it is uncovered.

A detective investigates a missing man. He likens new settlements to faded photo albums, the people in them as ghosts. He often stops to describe, at length, concrete and cockroaches. Abe rejects the orthodoxy of the suiri shōsetsu (deductive reasoning fiction) by disturbing deduction as a process, and corrupts the shakai ha (social school) by rendering social realism through the grotesque. His world shape-shifts and distorts, empties itself out and then rises to sudden clamorous violence. There is no grand conspiracy. For Abe all is entropy, and the only useful guide in a world unfixed is the ruined one. Words fail, thoughts fail, conversations sail over heads. He punishes the narrator for thinking he can make sense of the world, and the reader for thinking along with him.

While Abe is not the only author to use detective fiction to challenge its method, he does extend this epistemological pessimism to the human being in general. That is, the world as it is thought fails to touch the world as it is, and so as thinking beings we are fundamentally estranged from the world, and one another. For the author this is both a curse and an opening. He often spoke of a 'hometown phobia', or life-long suspicion of (social, political, epistemological) structures that promise stability, and which runs through all of his fiction. The Ruined Map is maddening by design and uncompromisingly bleak. But then it's manically comic, and in its depressive mania finds hope in derangement.

[Michelle L · Rating 3 out of 5]

Less than a third into the book, I realized from the outset that: a)we were not in the quotidien world we know, and b)the author was making no accommodation to the hard time any reader was going to have negotiating the 'map' of the storyline and characters. This pleased me at first - it reminded me of James Dickey's "Deliverance", and how the map in that opening foreshadowed the dreadful resistance the characters were going to get from the land into which they were planning (as they thought) their venture. I also thought I sensed the ghost-story vibe of Japanese cinema and literature, the lack of boundaries between this world and the Other one.

This is far from the first metaphysical or philosophical exploration-as-novel I've read. However, whether it's the original writing or the translation, the narration strikes me as so choppy, so lacking in reasonable transitions or connections, that I feel literally jerked around, as if pieces of text were missing -- Is it now or later? Am I outside her apartment or down the road, or in the apartment thinking about what's down the road? The manhole is a perfect metaphor - it seems not just the husband (possibly) but the whole story has somehow gone down the Rabbit Hole, but without Carroll's twisty logic to hold things together that aren't together.

I'll read as much more as I can, frankly savoring the challenge and the vitally intense atmosphere, but not in any way savoring it as a story or mystery. Perhaps, ultimately, it is not in its nature a novel, but a film treatment.

[Juha · Rating 4 out of 5]

The blurb on the back cover of my Tuttle edition says it all: "Told in the form, and with the suspense of a mystery novel, The Ruined Map is a melodrama of the mind." Except for the suspense part. I found it to be a tedious read. I had started it a couple of years ago when I bought the book, but then I couldn't get very far. I started it again recently and forced myself through the entire book. It's not that it's a bad book; in fact it does have some interesting aspects and parts of it were a good read. One of the aspects that I did enjoy was the descriptions of Tokyo in the 1960s, still developing, with new areas being built and being connected to the city's gas network. The descriptions of the city's underbelly were vivid in a nightmarish way. But on the whole it didn't hold my interest throughout. First I suspected the translation, but then realized it wasn't that. Partly it was the long paragraphs (the longest I noted was four full pages) and the descriptions of things and thoughts that would get too detailed, but it wasn't fully that either. A rather strange book. The atmosphere, I suspect, will stay with me for a long while.

[Japiera · Rating 4 out of 5]

La primera advertencia que haré es que esta novela no es lo que parece. Se presenta como una novela negra, en la cual un detective es contratado para investigar la desaparición de un hombre. Pero ese es solo el contexto en el cual se enmarca la verdadera historia, y estoy casi convencida que este relato es una bufonada Abe-sensei, quien tiene un sentido del humor que no conoce límites, y un afán por poner en entredicho los límites de la realidad y la no realidad. Estoy casi convencida que la pregunta clave para entender esta novela es justamente "¿qué es esta novela?". La desaparición que es algo concreto, se transforma en una pregunta filosófica, y las pistas o caminos a seguir, no hacen más que multiplicarse en lugar de acotarse. Estoy casi convencida que esta novela es en realidad una lectura filosófica, y que recomiendo mucho. Pero también recomiendo paciencia.

[Jennifer · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have yet to read a Japanese novel that is not at least somewhat bizarre and oblique. This one starts with a conventional idea -a private detective is hired by a woman to find her missing husband - but reads almost more like a surreal fantasy than a noir. The prose is spare and hallucinatory, and I admit I found it very hard to understand what was going on.

[Nate · Rating 2 out of 5]

maybe its the translation, but for some reason this book felt like a chore the whole time i was reading it. which is too bad, cause i really dug woman in the dunes. maybe someone disagrees with me? vent, i'm looking in your direction..

[Margaret · Rating 2 out of 5]

So I picked up this book because it promised to be a mix of Kafka and Chandler. Kafka yes, Chandler no. I have no idea what happened in this book, but I could tell it had a lot more to do with how we perceive our place in a modern anonymous city than finding a missing husband.