Kafka on the Shore

by Haruki Murakami

there are times in life when those kinds of excuses don’t cut it anymore. Situations when nobody cares whether you’re suited for the task at hand or not.

“When a war starts people are forced to become soldiers. They carry guns and go to the front lines and have to kill soldiers on the other side. As many as they possibly can. Nobody cares whether you like killing other people or not. It’s just something you have to do. Otherwise you’re the one who gets killed.” Johnnie Walker pointed his index finger at Nakata’s chest. “Bang!” he said. “Human history in a nutshell.”

“You’ve got to look at it this way: this is war. You’re a soldier, and you have to make a decision. Either I kill the cats or you kill me. One or the other. You need to make a choice right here and now. This might seem an outrageous choice, but consider this: most choices we make in life are equally outrageous.”

You’re doing exactly what I’m hoping for. It’s not like you’re killing somebody who doesn’t want to die. In fact, you’re doing a good deed.”

“You can’t look too far ahead. Do that and you’ll lose sight of what you’re doing and stumble. I’m not saying you should focus solely on details right in front of you, mind you. You’ve got to look ahead a bit or else you’ll bump into something. You’ve got to follow the proper order and at the same time keep an eye out for what’s ahead. That’s critical, no matter what you’re doing.”

This isn’t as bad as Macbeth, but you wouldn’t believe the dry-cleaning bills. This is a special outfit, after all. I should wear a surgical gown and gloves, but I can’t. Another rule, I’m afraid.”

Closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything. Nothing’s going to disappear just because you can’t see what’s going on.

“That’s very important, Mr. Nakata. A person not being himself anymore.”

“Let’s go home,” he told them, but he couldn’t stand up.

His mind began to fade and, before he knew it, sank down into the darkness.

The woods don’t scare me as much as they used to, either, and I’ve started to feel a kind of closeness and respect. That said, I don’t venture too far from the cabin, and stay on the path. As long as I follow these rules, it shouldn’t get too precarious. That’s the important thing—follow the rules and the woods will wordlessly accept me, sharing some of their peace and beauty. Cross the line, though, and beasts of silence lay in wait to maul me with razor-sharp claws.

It rains hard a couple times, but doesn’t last, and each time I run outside, naked, to wash myself.

I imagine how great it’d be to stay here as long as I wanted. There are lots of books on the shelf I’d like to read, still plenty of food. But I know I’m just passing through and will have to leave before long. This place is too calm, too natural—too complete. I don’t deserve it. At least not yet.

Up till a minute ago it felt so real, but now it seems imaginary. Just a few steps is all it takes for everything associated with it to lose all sense of reality. And me—the person who was there until a moment ago—now I seem imaginary too.

nature is actually kind of unnatural, in a way. And relaxation can actually be threatening. It takes experience and preparation to really live with those contradictions.

Whatever it is you’re seeking won’t come in the form you’re expecting.”

Greek gods are more mythological than religious figures. By that I mean they have the same character flaws humans do. They fly off the handle, get horny, jealous, forgetful. You name it.”

If I sound like I’m always predicting ominous things, it’s because I’m a pragmatist. I use deductive reasoning to generalize, and I suppose this sometimes winds up sounding like unlucky prophecies.

reality’s just the accumulation of ominous prophecies come to life.

There’s only one kind of happiness, but misfortune comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.

So even after settling back into her hometown, she remained a cipher. A stylish woman wrapped in refined mystery.

The hands of the clock buried inside her soul ground to a halt then. Time outside, of course, flows on as always, but she isn’t affected by it. For her, what we consider normal time is essentially meaningless.”

“Kafka, in everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive.”

Seeing Mimi and Goma beside him proved it wasn’t a dream, but for some strange reason now he couldn’t understand a word they said.

Mimi meowed, wagged her tail again, then scurried off and disappeared around the corner. There was no blood on her, either. Nakata decided to remember that.

“Even if it’s sunny, I suggest you bring an umbrella.”

“There will be fish falling from the sky, just like rain. A lot of fish. Mostly sardines, I believe. With a few mackerel mixed in.”

The next day when—sure enough—sardines and mackerel rained down on a section of Nakano Ward, the young policeman turned white as a sheet.

The policeman was baffled. The strange old codger—what was his name again?—had predicted all these fish raining down from the sky. Sardines and mackerel, just like he’d said. . . . But I just laughed it off, the policeman thought, and didn’t even get his name and address.

The world’s filled with people with a screw loose, and, as if by agreement, at one time or another they all seem to find their way into police boxes to blab out some nonsense. If you bother yourself with every one of these nutcases, you’ll go nuts yourself!

But that prediction about fish raining from the sky, a lunatic statement if there ever was one, actually did happen, so maybe—just maybe—that story he told about knifing somebody to death—Johnnie Walker, as he put it—might actually be true. Assuming it was, this was a major problem, for he’d turned away someone confessing to murder and didn’t even write up a report on it.

the body of a man, stabbed to death, was discovered nearby. The dead man was a famous sculptor, and his body was discovered by the cleaning woman who came every other day. The body was naked, lying in a pool of blood. Estimated time of death was in the evening two days previous, the murder weapon a steak knife from the kitchen.

He confessed to murder, so I should’ve handed him over to the higher-ups and let them decide if he’s crazy or not. But I shirked my duty. Now that it’s come to this, the young policeman decided, the best thing to do is to just clam up and pretend it never happened.

I try imagining myself in forty years, but it’s like trying to picture what lies beyond the universe.

“There’s not much for anybody to steal here, so maybe we don’t need to be so worried about always locking the door,” Oshima tells me. “But Miss Saeki and I don’t like things done sloppily. So we try to do things by the book. This is our house, so we treat it with respect. And I hope you’ll do the same.”

They act less like people using a library than inspectors from the tax office checking a company’s inventory.

To put it mildly, I don’t have a good feeling about this.

You’re doing this unconsciously rather than deliberately, but that makes you even guiltier.

“My body is physically female, but my mind’s completely male,” Oshima goes on. “Emotionally I live as a man. So I suppose your notion of being a historical example may be correct. And maybe I am sexist—who knows. But I’m not a lesbian, even though I dress this way. My sexual preference is for men.

“In terms of sex I’m most definitely female, though my breasts haven’t developed much and I’ve never had a period. But I don’t have a penis or testicles or facial hair. In short, I have nothing. A nice no-extra-baggage kind of feeling, if you want to put a positive spin on it.

“I don’t care what you are. Whatever you are, I like you,”

I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss.

“Only people who’ve been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I’m as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination.

if you take every single person who lacks much imagination seriously, there’s no end to it,”

Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it’s important to know what’s right and what’s wrong. Individual errors in judgment can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But intolerant, narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive.

he did see the big picture of Togeguchi’s life, namely that here was a poor young guy who, while trying to live an upright life, had his share of problems.

“I happen to like the strange ones,” the driver said. “People who look normal and live a normal life—they’re the ones you have to watch out for.”

“You build up relationships like that one after another and before you know it you have meaning. The more connections, the deeper the meaning. Doesn’t matter if it’s eel, or rice bowls, or grilled fish, whatever. Get it?”

no matter who or what you’re dealing with, people build up meaning between themselves and the things around them. The important thing is whether this comes about naturally or not. Being bright has nothing to do with it. What matters is that you see things with your own eyes.”

If you try to use your head to think about things, people don’t want to have anything to do with you.”