To Nim

And off we set at 5 in the am, for our holiday in the hills minus my sister. Her place has been taken up by an ice box full of some cumin flavored coke. ( not cocaine, before you run ahead of yourselves). I keep looking at it, waiting for it to grumpily push my leg and tell me to stick to my side of the car. But it doesn't seem to have the correct amount of enthusiasm. I expect its grumpier than she is when dragged out of bed early in the morning. It's too cool to care. (That was a joke right there in case you missed it).
Not much has changed since our first trip out to the hills that I can remember. The Carpenters are still playing from the car speakers, I am still sitting behind mum, and I know, by the time I am done with this post, I shall be sprawled across the back seat, fast asleep. The only difference being, Nim won't be here to fight with for the appropriate amount of leg space, nobody is going to laugh when I fall down inside the car, and nobody will be taking pictures of my mouth drooling and wide open while I sleep. The last bit made me realize how lucky I am that she doesn't frequent social sites. I think I would have had a very scarred childhood had she been on Facebook.
Time for a nap. For once, I shall be sleeping peacefully, without the mortal fear of being clicked at my worst. Bye Nim, we all hope you'd be home soon.

Kafka on the Shore: My Thoughts

Found this in my drafts. Missed publishing it for some reason.

I had written this review long back for a book discussion. Putting it up here now.

***

August 14, 2013

This is the only Haruki Murakami book that I have read so far. I don’t think I shall be picking up any of his other works any time soon. He uses a lot of “magic” in his books. Stuff that just doesn’t happen in real life. And he tells his tale in a manner where everything odd about life is acceptable. I wouldn’t call his work fantasy, but it’s not quite non-fantastical either.

The book begins with the story of a 15 year old runaway. And it ends with nothing solid. It’s not like an open ending, it’s just nothingness. You won’t find people arguing whether his spinning top fell in the end or not. If everything you just read happened in the boy’s head or if it happened at all. You just have to accept what has been told to you.

He just blends everything into one piece, like the random ramblings of an old man.

The first few chapters took me by surprise, I kept wondering how to see the book, is all the magic “Real” and acceptable? Or is it supposed to be odd even in the book. After a point in the book, you just stop wondering and accept it for what it is. When I was discussing the weirdness of the book with my sister, the only response I got was, “It’s Japanese literature, what else can you expect”. Like that explains everything.

I still don’t have any opinion on how I feel about the book, but I would definitely recommend reading it, if not for the story, for its completely different style of writing.

***

June 3, 2014

I read Metamorphosis some time back, my first Kafka ever! It suddenly made sense, the naming of the protagonist in Kafka on the Shore. I am now ready to pick up another Haruki Murakami book, and maybe, once I have decided I have read everything I could possibly want to, go back and re-read Kafka on the Shore. All the strangeness in the book.. maybe Gabo had more influence on the world than I had previously imagined.