The City and Its Uncertain Walls
by Haruki Murakami
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Truth is not found
in fixed stillness, but in ceaseless change and movement. Isn’t this the
quintessential core of what stories are all about?
Big thanks to Knopf
Publishers and Netgalley for allowing me to read the new Haruki Murakami novel The City and Its Uncertain Walls. Murakami is one of my all time
favorite authors. I didn’t start to read his books until about 2006, so there
haven’t been too many opportunities to read new books, but I was incredibly
excited to read this book since it is his first translated novel since Killing
Commendatore in 2018. I’ve read his other more recent collections of
stories, essays, and interviews, but there’s something immersive and magical
about Murakami’s novels where he is able to craft these kinds of worlds
(or maybe underworlds) that serve both as a kind of refuge and a prison, where
characters both escape and find themselves lost, both geographically and
philosophically. The City and Its Uncertain Walls doesn’t disappoint in
fulfilling this element of Murakami’s oeuvre. In fact, while I love the
inventive worlds that Murakami crafts and the unique characters that populate
these worlds, there’s also some level of familiarity that I seek in Murakami’s
writing—there’s bound to be cats, music (jazz, classical and the Beatles),
maybe some pasta (or cooking of pasta), and probably some woman who the
narrator is attracted to, but is out of reach. Maybe she has disappeared into
the fantastical world, or she has lost some element of herself, or she can no
longer talk or feel. This book has many of those key elements that I look to
check off on my Murakami bingo card. Although these points are all featured in
the novel, there’s something different about this one from Murakami’s other
novels. I’m a little torn about this, since I’ve recently read some books about
musical artists (in particular R.E.M. and MF DOOM) who struggled with fans and
markets when they sought to take their music in new directions. I suppose
Murakami is kind of in the same dilemma where he has built up a literary
reputation and following around his own brand of magical realism that both
seeks refuge from and understanding of the modern world. I have always found
his stories and characters original, inventive, and engaging, sometimes being
drawn in by their oddities.
Murakami ends the novel with an afterword that was helpful
to read—I almost wish that I read the afterword to begin. The quote I used
above are the final lines he wrote in the afterword, and I think it captures
the essence of this book and his own writing as well—I loved thinking that
there is ceaseless change and movement in his work, and I can see that.
However, we also found out that this book was based on a novella/long short
story that was published in 1980, right after his first novel. Murakami goes on
to explain that he was never happy with the story, and always wanted to expand
the narrative, finding a way to merge the two tales. It never happened the way
he wanted, but he used some basic elements of the story to write The
Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, which is why this book
seemed really familiar from the beginning. The tale of the dream reader and the
beasts in the town were elements of that same novel. That novel is not one of
my favorites, but I did remember some of the parts of it. The other parts of
the novel remind me of other Murakami books. For example, the unnamed narrator
falls in love with a girl he meets at a writing contest award ceremony when
they are in high school. The girl seems quiet and reclusive, although they write
letters to one another. At times, she seems like she is not completely there,
and mentions how she was unable to get out of bed at one point. We later learn
that she may not even be herself in the real world, but rather this might only
be her shadow, while her real self is in the City with its uncertain
walls, that gradually adjust to keep inhabitants within its walls. The
narrator, caring for the girl, wants to go to her, and eventually ends up in
the city, forsaking his shadow and piercing his eyes to become a dream reader.
The spartan city is cold, and these unforgiving winters bring about the deaths
of beasts, unicorn like creatures whose bodies are burnt in a pit. This part of
the novel, the first part, reminded me of Norwegian Wood since the
narrator sought refuge in a town, following a somewhat depressed and
spiritually wounded woman. The town, set apart from reality and offering its
inhabitants insights if they give up parts of their selves, also seemed like
the sanitarium in Norwegian Wood, but it also reminded me of Mann’s Magic
Mountain. It’s as if the world is too much, and there’s a need to escape,
to find relief and spend time with a loved one. Murakami writes in his
afterward that he started revising and reconceptualizing this novel during the
beginning of the pandemic, and maybe that influenced this aspect. I will say
that although there are similarities between the first part of the book and
some of Murakami’s other work, it wasn’t as fun and joyful (or quirky) as his
other novels and stories. Rather, this part of the novel felt much more severe
and sparse. The narrator had to give up his shadow, and the ensuring separation
proved to enervate the shadow. Similarly, the narrator had little to no
interaction with others, and eventually, he realizes he needs to escape this
world. I had a hard time getting into this part of the book—it was a little
disorienting to me, and as I mentioned, it just wasn’t as fun as some of his
other books. There was no music, no other books or writers, no pasta or cats.
Only the doomed beasts, who faced either death by cold or a day of brutality to
eventually mate.
Thankfully, the book switches gears, and the narrator
escapes to live a life in Japan. However, like his earlier experiences as a
dream reader, he also becomes dissatisfied with this life, and eventually
decides to quit his job to become a librarian. While he’s not exactly sure why
he’s developed this calling, he realizes that it’s what he needs to do. With a
little help from a colleague, he eventually secures a librarian job in a small
mountain town near Fukushima. There’s a really interesting story about this
non-public town library, and we learn about its head librarian who helped
select the narrator for the job. I grew to enjoy Mr. Koyasu, the mysterious
librarian. He is one of the more interesting characters in the book, and he
fits in with the kind of magical realism that Murakami often features in his
novels. I won’t give too much away about him, but I think that this is also
what Murakami was talking about with ceaseless change and movement since I
don’t think there are characters who are quite like Koyasu in other Murakami
works. Some characters, especially those from Kafka on the Shore
reminded me of Koyasu—a kind of spiritual guide or advisor who supports the
narrator and helps him make connections with others who are important to his
mission. I think, though, part of the challenge for me was not really being
aware of what his mission was—was he trying to reunite with the girl? Was he
trying to return to the city that he left? Was he trying to regain his dream
reader position? The narrator never really lets us know.
I think that this part of the book, the 2nd part
that comprises most of the book, was the best part. I really enjoyed the
characters in the town, even there aren’t too many. I liked how the narrator
eventually took on the librarian job and encountered M***, a seeming savant who
devours books and can accurately tell people the day of the week they were
born. This character also shares some similarities with other characters from
other Murakami works. We eventually meet his family, and I think that their
treatment and concern for this character shows a different side of Murakami.
Furthermore, M’s role in the book and his quest to learn more about the City
raises important questions about inclusion and acceptance. Although I felt bad
that M felt like he really didn’t have a place in this library town, it was
interesting to see how he felt like the other city might be a refuge where he
could become himself. I think that this fits with some of Murakami’s themes and
ideas about isolation, escape, and identity in many of his works. The third
part of the novel deals with the bond or connection that M and the narrator
share. It was interesting, but it is also the shortest section, and Murakami’s
afterward helps to shed some light on the narrative challenges that this part
of the novel raised. I like what he was trying to do, but some of it was a
little strange—the earlobe biting especially. I’m not sure why the earlobes.
The book kind of seemed to end without some resolutions- in
particular, the coffee shop proprietor and her relationship with the narrator.
In the second part of the book, the narrator discovers a coffee shop with good
coffee and great blueberry muffins. They also play jazz, which I was so
relieved to come across some music in the novel (M also wears Beatles parkas
from Yellow Submarine—which also maybe speaks to his desire to picture
himself somewhere else). He eventually has the woman over for some pasta and
wine, and while nothing romantic immediately develops, she does seem to be one
of the only people he interacts with in this library town. I enjoyed their
discussions, and wanted to know more about her condition that prevents their
developing a deeper intimacy. I was really hoping for some kind of resolution
with her or finding out more about what might happen to her in the town. I also
wondered whether the narrator would remain as the head librarian in the town,
or if anything might happen to close the town’s library down. Not all novels
resolve themselves in neat ways, but I wasn’t completely sold on where the
narrator ended up and who he ended up with. It was a thought-provoking ending,
and I think with all of the talk about doubles and shadows, there’s a theme
about who we are, how we shape our identities, and what really defines us. Is
it our jobs? Our hobbies and interests? Is it our relationships and connections
to others? For Murakami, these are factors that affect us, but there’s also
something more to our selves and our identities—and for his characters in
particular, part of the discovery of the self often involves a kind of journey
or quest, even if it means traveling from one part of Japan to another and
giving up the comfort and stability of a job for something that one is more
passionate about.
I ultimately enjoyed this novel, and I feel like it is one
that I would like to revisit in a few years. The book is heavy and heady; it is
a novel of ideas, with considerable symbolism and meaning beyond the surface. I
was able to glean some of the meaning, but I think this would be a good novel
for discussion, whether that is in a book club or even in the classroom. I
could see this book being part of a curriculum on modernism or post modernism,
or even a seminar on Murakami’s work. I would really like to see this book
taught in a comparative literature seminar that maybe focuses on some of
Murakami’s influences and the discussions center around not just the
comparisons of the novels, but rather how Murakami utilizes these influences
(and other cultural touchstones) to enact his ending quote of ceaseless change
and movement. Although this won’t rank as one of my all time favorite Murakami
novels, I really enjoyed the read, and a good Murakami book is still excellent
literature. I know that others have criticized his more recent works as not measuring
up, but I feel like this is a strong entry into his oeuvre, one that continues
to move and change his themes and interests.
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