Not to forget his occasional flirtation with magical realism and surrealism - be it the two moons appearing in 1Q84 or fish tumbling from the sky in Kafka on the Shore - readers are always left in awe by his enigmatic fictional worlds. His works often portray details about the arid landscape of Tokyo‘s suburbs, the serenity of Japan’s snowy mountains, and the wild frenzy of its train stations. With works that dislocate realities and uncover the extraordinary in the ordinary, Murakami is a writer of unparalleled magnitude.
Although it may not live up to Murakami's masterful The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Nakata and Kafka's fates keep the reader enthralled to the final pages, and few will complain about the loose threads at the end.When Haruki Murakami first burst into the Japanese literary scene with one of his best books, the Gunzōprize-winning Kaze no uta o kike ( Hear the Wind Sing, 1979), few would have predicted that in less than two decades, he would establish himself as a major voice of the contemporary era.
To say that the fantastic elements of Kafka On The Shore are complicated and never fully resolved is not to suggest that the novel fails. An unforgettable character, beautifully delineated by Murakami, Nakata can speak with cats but cannot read or write, nor explain the forces drawing him toward Takamatsu and the other characters. Meanwhile, in a second, wilder narrative spiral, an elderly Tokyo man named Nakata veers from his calm routine by murdering a stranger. Joining the rich literature of runaways, Kafka On The Shore follows the solitary, self-disciplined schoolboy Kafka Tamura as he hops a bus from Tokyo to the randomly chosen town of Takamatsu, reminding himself at each step that he has to be "the world¹s toughest fifteen-year-old." He finds a secluded private library in which to spend his days-continuing his impressive self-education-and is befriended by a clerk and the mysteriously remote head librarian, Miss Saeki, whom he fantasizes may be his long-lost mother. But at some point between page three and fifteen-it's page thirteen in Kafka On The Shore-the deceptively placid narrative lifts off, and you find yourself breaking through clouds at a tilt, no longer certain where the plane is headed or if the laws of flight even apply. The opening pages of a Haruki Murakami novel can be like the view out an airplane window onto tarmac.
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