Review - 1Q84

1Q84
by Haruki Murakami
900+ pages

Description via Goodreads

"Blood shed in this world is real blood. This is no imitation world, no imaginary world, no metaphysical world. I guarantee you that. But this is not the 1984 you know."

"Like a parallel world?"

 The man's shoulder trembled with laughter. "You've been reading too much science fiction. No, this is no parallel world. You don't have 1984 over there and 1Q84 branching off over here and the two worlds running along parallel tracks. The year 1Q84 no longer exists anywhere. For you and for me, the only time that exists anymore is this year of 1Q84." (462)

That's about as clear of an explanation the readers will get on the world of 1Q84. It's weird, I blew through the first 500 pages, and then put it down for a few days to reflect. It was during this time of reflection when I realized I had no idea what the hell this book was about. And even now after having finished reading it, I still have no idea what the hell this book is about...Is it a story about true love? star-crossed lovers? or in this case moon-crossed? In the end, I can only sum it up as a peculiar piece of magical-realistic, meta-fiction, and I still can't be sure that's right.

I think what propelled me through the first half of the book was Murakami's writing style. It's new to me. But then after 600 pages or so, I began to pick out annoying details that were ruining an already weak storyline. For example, a lot of the descriptions are redundant. I mean really overkill repetitive. Some things just seemed out of place (frequent mention of breasts, their size and shape) or negatively awkward (sex scenes and phone conversations) or just unnecessary...like when Aomame uses a pregnancy test. Read this:

The test itself was simple. Just urinate into a clean container and then dip the indicator stick into it. Or, alternately, urinate directly onto the stick. Then wait a few minutes. If the color changes to blue you're pregnant, if it doesn't change color, you're not. In one version, if two vertical lines appear in the little window, you're pregnant. One line, and you're not. The details might vary but the principle was the same (709)

I mean, we all know how those work. Why write that? ...Maybe it serves a purpose I'm not aware of. But things like that happen a lot.

I guess that leads me to the characters, which are interesting in the beginning, as you learn their backstory, grievances and circumstance. The two central characters are Aomame and Tengo, moon-crossed lovers navigating Tokyo in the time of 1Q84. Aomame is a personal trainer and assassin. Tengo is a teacher and writer. Tengo and Aomame have very similar backgrounds. They have little social interaction and their daily lives are routine and boring. The only way I can differentiate them is to say Tengo is passive-passive, whereas Aomame is passive-active. They both let a lot happen to them and participate the minimum one can participate. Just flat. 

They reconnect in the year 1984/1Q84 after not having seen each other after twenty years...and there's not much more than that. They shared a very strong moment of connection in adolescence (a squeezing of hands together at school) Fast forward, Aomame assassinates a leader of a cult, who also happens to be exploited in a book Tengo has rewritten. That's the point of reconnection. Yes, there are whole bunch of other side characters and elements involved, but it's just too confusing and boring to mention.

I don't know. I think it was too long, probably could have cut out 200 pages of useless description. It didn't bother me that I didn't understand how 1Q84 worked, it bothered me that nothing dynamic happened in the second half of the book. However, with all that said, I'm not completely turned off to Murakami's writing and I will read more of his stuff. This may have simply missed the mark...it happens.

1Q84

 

Three stars.

Book Haul (+9)

What's in this haul?

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
Eating the Cheshire Cat by Helen Ellis
The Babes in the Wood by Ruth Rendell
Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver
...and a few others.

I'm excited to read more Rendell--she really impressed me with A Demon In My View. And I love Kingsolver. Prodigal Summer is the most recent book I've read written by her...Middlesex has been on my reading list since last summer and I've only read three of the books from my last haul a couple months ago. How efficient I am.

Book Beginnings - The Man in the Brown Suit

Book Beginnings is a meme hosted by Rose City Reader. Share the first sentence (or so) of a book you are currently reading, along with your initial thoughts and impressions about the sentence or book. Remember to include the title of the book and the author AND link up at the Rose City Reader

Nadina, the Russian dancer who had taken Paris by storm, swayed to the sound of the applause, bowed and bowed again. her narrow black eyes narrowed themselves still more, the long line of her scarlet mouth curved faintly upwards. Enthusiastic Frenchmen continued to beat the ground appreciatively as the curtain fell with a swish, hiding the reds and blues and magentas of the bizarre decors. 

I've seen bits and pieces of movies based on Agatha Christie's stories but never read any of them. So this will be my first...I've heard nothing but good things about her, thus my expectations are fairly high.

I'm only a handful of pages in. As for the beginning, it's from the prologue and I like it. Nadina gives off a slight femme fatale vibe, right?

Poetry for thought - Olimpicamente

Olimpicamente
by Monica de la torre

It was my feet. They were oversized for my age,
restless and strong enough to do more than pick fruit or sell fish.
For kicks, in my hometown of two thousand, I tried taekwondo. I was five.

The neighbors, they thought of me as marimacha,
Women around me were tough, but they were no tomboys.
Dad, a fisherman by trade, was undeterred. He's good at cultivating.

He and I, we're driven people. They kind that look
beyond the horizon -- westward and eastward in step.
Hence we outgrew the dirt roads of La Brecha (The Gap) in Sinaloa.

Did I choose the art; was it the art that chose me?
But for a white uniform, I had the essentials.
This was my calling: self-defense for which you needed no arms. Only fists.

Rock solid. And limber limbs and a feistiness
not antagonistic. Think dealing blows so less blows
are dealt -- aiming to stop the fight, but not destroy your rival, your equal.
Where I am from, some folks do things differently.
My way's the way of the hand and foot, and unity
of purpose. On the tatami, I write their bodily calligraphy.

Image: Peter Harrison/Cheetah100 - Flickr