interview of Haruki Murakami

Transcription

Jonathan
Ellis
((In Dreams
Interview
and
Mitoko
Begins
with
Hirabayashi
Responsibility
Haruki
An
Murakami
MURAKAMI is the most widely discussed Japanesenovelist
HARUKI
ofhis generation.Since his firstpublicationin 1979,Hear theWindSing,
forwhich he was awarded the prestigiousGunzo LiteraturePrize,Murakami
has baffledand enchantedreadersin equal measure.Accordingto hisfriendand
fellowwriter,Kazuo Ishiguro,Murakamihas two distinctstyles,"thebizarre,
anarchicstyle"and "theverycontrolled,melancholyapproach."As Ishiguro
adds, "there'salso a thematicobsessiongoingback veryfarintothepast,which
is thatfalling-cherry-blossom
oflife."
thing,about theephemerality
Murakami followedan unusual apprenticeshipto become a writer.He
was born in Kyotoin 1949; laterthe familymoved to the busy port town of
Kobe. His fatherwas theson ofa Buddhistpriestwho metMurakami'smother
while both were teachersof Japaneseliterature.Murakami rebelled against
the culturaltraditionshis parentsrepresentedand instead fellin love with
thehardboiledfictionthe Americansailorsleftbehind in Kobe's secondhand
bookstores.His admirationof the work of Raymond Chandler dates from
thistime.At the age of fourteen,he also became hooked on jazz music after
attendinga concertbyArtBlakeyand theJazzMessengers.Murakamimethis
wifeYoko Takahashiat Waseda Universityin Tokyo.He suspendedhis studies
to run a jazz bar withher.Theynamed it PeterCat afterMurakami'sfavorite
Note:TheInterviewers
would
liketothank
thefollowing
fortheir
organizations
generous
support
ofthisproject:
TheDaiwaAnglo-Japanese
TheJapan
Foundation
Endowment
CommitFoundation,
Foundation.
Haruki
Murakami
andhisassistants
inTokyo
andOisowere
also
tee,andTheSasakawa
kindtousduring
ourtime
with
them.
incredibly
[548]
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JONATHAN ELLIS & MITOKO HIRABAYASHI
549
Murakamibegan to writeHear the WindSing
pet. At the age of twenty-nine,
at thekitchentableafterhe returnedhome fromwork.The realizationthathe
could be a writerfamouslycame to him while watchinga baseball game.
In the early 1980s, the success of Murakami'swritingencouraged the
couple to sell thejazz club. He switchedto a regimenofearlyrisingand physical exercise (including marathonrunning) which continues to this day. At
about the same time, he also began a
parallel careeras a translatorof American literatureintoJapanese.Murakami's
life as a relativelyanonymous writer
witha small but respectablereadership
changedwiththeunexpectedsuccess of
NorwegianWood in 1987,writtenfrom
self-imposedexilein Europe.Murakami
began the novel as an experimentto see
if he could write a "straight,simple,
rather sentimentalstory."To his surthe novel sold over two million
e prise,
copies in Japanalone. The book touched
ш
сс
л a nerve, particularlyamong Japanese
s
and youngadults.Theywrote
õö teenagers
-С
О- to Murakami in theirthousands,
payto
the
HarukiMurakami
Shinjuku nightclub
ing homage
featuredin the book and buying CDs
compiled fromthe music mentionedin the story.Murakami was sent into a
fromauthorto public celebrityand remainedin
panic by his transformation
for
to
Europe waiting things calm down.
Murakami'sreclusivelifestylesince the success of NorwegianWood has
led manycriticsto likenhim to J.D. Salinger.While Murakami'searlynarratorssound a littlelike Salinger's,thepersonalhabitsoftheirauthorsare in fact
Murakamimakes hardlyany public appearances in Japan,but
quite different.
is happyto attendbook signingsand readingselsewhere.While he regularly
turnsdown oifersto filmhis novels,he frequentlyallows cinema and stage
directorsto adapt his shortstories.His agreementto be interviewedforthis
journal furtherunderminesthe image of Murakami the recluse. He simply
findstheattentionsurroundingcelebritydistracting.
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THE GEORGIA REVIEW
In the early1990s,Murakamitook up a seriesofvisitinglectureshipsin
theUnitedStates,at theuniversitiesofPrincetonand Tufts.It was in America
thatMurakamicompletedwhat manypeople considerto be his masterpiece,
The Wind-UpBird Chronicle, a Chaucerian novel of interlockingnarrators
and narratives,each of which unsettlesfixedideas of Japanesehistoryand
identity.
In the earlyweeks of 1995,Japanesesocietywas rockedby two eventsthe Kobe earthquakein which more than fivethousand people died and the
saringas attackon theTokyounderground.Murakamifelttheneed to return
formyreaders."He began interviewing
home to do something"formycountry,
victimsand perpetratorsof the sarin gas attackforthe book thateventually
At the same time,he startedworkon a
appeared in Englishas Underground.
seriesof shortstoriesdetailingthe consequences of the Kobe earthquakeon
those who had experiencedthe disasterfromafar.These are collectedin the
volumeAftertheQuake. Bothbooks marka changein directionin Murakami's
fictionfromearliernarrativesin which a singleperson can be responsiblefor
theend oftheworldto his mostrecentworkin whicha sense ofcollectiveguilt
and responsibility
lies behindeverything.
Murakami'snew novel,Kafkaon the
This
Shore,citesW. B. Yeats'scommentthat"In dreamsbegins responsibility."
quote in manywayschartsthepath of Murakami'swritingcareer.
That said, to some extentMurakami has been tellingmore or less the
same storyforthe past twenty-five
years.Like AlfredHitchcock,withwhom
he sharesa fatalattractionto mysteriouswomen and vertiginousplots,there
are certainrecognizableimages and storylinesthatcharacterize"Murakami
world."As ChristopherTaylorhas observed,"MurakamiMan is an instantly
recognizablecharacter,althoughhis names and biographiesnaturallycome
and go. He existsat the edge of Japanesesociety,and he generallyfollowsa
somewhatmarginaltrade.His wivesand girlfriends
oftenwalk out on him,so
he usuallylivesalone. He mayhave a cat,but mysteriousforcesare quitelikely
to abduct it."Murakami'scharactersmake sense of theselosses by retreating
intoa hermitlikeshell.Theypass timedrinkingbeer,listeningto jazz records,
and takingtheirshirtsto thelaundry.Eventually,
a teenagegirlor olderwoman
them
with
consolation.
In
the
case
of
the
provides
teenagegirl,she giveshim
adviceand sympathy;
theolderwoman frequently
offers
him sexual fulfilment.
the
several
surreal
events
will
Along
way,
happen, usually involvingsuicide
or murder.In Murakami's best work these digressionswill have historical
or politicalsignificance.Most Murakami storiesend withthe hero forcedto
551
choose betweenhis past and presentlife.Most of the time,he remainswith
thenew,more down-to-earthwoman he has found,dancingforwardintothe
future.Occasionallyhe ends on an edge,like JamesStewartscharacterin Vertigo,endlesslywatchingthe same woman fallto her death.
This interviewwas conducted over two days in August 2004, the firstpart
in Murakamis officein Tokyo,the second two hours south of the cityin his
seaside home in Oiso. During the interview,Murakami frequentlyspoke of
his sense of living"two lives,"both physicallybetween cityand countryand
psychologicallybetween differentstory-tellingtraditions.His daily life is
certainlysplitin a similarway,constantlymovingbetweenthe anonymityof
Tokyo and the peace and communityevidentin his house by the sea. While
Murakami was courteous and sincere in both locations, he appeared more
relaxedawayfromthecity.The humorthatis so much a featureofhis writing
thanin Tokyoand he was more
slippedintotheconversationmorefrequently
willingto reminisce.
Murakami does the majorityof his writingin his studyat Oiso, surroundedbyhis largecollectionofjazz records,a legacyoflifeas ownerof the
PeterCat in the 1970s. The studyis accessed by climbinga windingwooden
staircasewhereMurakamiseems secure fromthe goings-onin the restof the
house. IfW. B. Yeatswerea jazz lover,his towermightlook somethinglikethis.
Downstairs,thereare severallargepaintings,manyofwhichseem to comment
directlyon Murakamis own fiction.There is a lovelyabstractpaintingof a
appropriatevisual imagefortheauthorof The WildSheep
sheep (a particularly
Chase) and also a paintingofa teenagegirlin a redbikinion a beach. Fromthe
dinnertableone can watchher sunbathingfroma distance,as iffrombehind
sunglasses.There are of course several such momentsin Murakami'sfiction
whereteenagegirlsseen froma distance suddenlyenterthe lives of the male
protagonists.The girlin red seems a beautifulreminder.Murakami must see
it everyday as he ascends the stairsto write.
he stillacts like a slightlyawkAlthoughMurakamiis in his earlyfifties,
ward teenager.His instinctis to remain wary of situationsthat mightcompromise or embarrasshim. He has several revealinghand gestures.Before
answeringa question,he oftenplaces his palms outstretchedin frontofhim as
ifsurrendering
somethingofimportance.Atthesame time,thisgestureis also
rathergnomic,likea secretcode betweenfriends.Murakamialso takesseveral
seconds to begin answeringa question. When he is about to begin speaking,
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THE GEORGIA REVIEW
his hands foldin on themselvesin a loose knot,his eyespeeringdown intothe
bottomof thistangleof fingersand thumbsas thoughlooking inside forthe
answer.In short,Murakami'sbody languageis both curiouslywithdrawnand
inviting.One is neverquite sureifhe is glad ofone'sscrutinyofhis writingor
completelyalarmed.
to read thatforyourdissertationat univerJonathanEllis (JE): I was interested
sityyou wroteon "TheIdea oftheJourneyin Americanfilms."What was your
main thesis?
Itwas a long timeago, in 1973or 1974.It'sthirtyyearsago. I don'thave an accuratememoryabout thatpaper. It was not writtento prove something.I just
statedwhatI had in mymind at thattime,thatthefeelingofmovementis very
characteristic
in Americanculture,especiallyin moviesand novels.Americans
are seekinga frontier,
or lookingfora terraincognita.Theykeep movingmost
ofthetime.In otherwords,itseems thattheyare afraidofstasis.I thinkthatis
a meritand a weak pointofAmericanculture.Thatis whatI feltas a student,
and so I wroteit down in threeor fourdays. [Laughs.] And I got an A-plus.
JE:It musthave beenverygood.
My professortold me that I could be a writer.I was surprisedto hear that
because I didn'tthinkI could be a writer.I had verylittlefaithin myself,so I
thoughtthatshe was joking.So when I foundmyselfwritingsomethingwhen
I was twenty-nine
yearsold, I was surprised.I didn'texpectto writeanything,
but the professorwas right,I guess. But,you know,its [thedissertation]just
writing,just papers. It doesn'tmean a lot to me.
JE:In 1984,you metRaymondCarver,whosebooksyou'vealso translated.You've
called him "themostvaluable teacher"you everhad and "thegreatestliterary
comrade."How didyou becomefriendsand whatdid you learnfromhim?
He didn'tlook like a writer.He looked like an ordinaryman. He used to be a
factoryworkerand he used to be a janitorand he used to be a salesman.In any
case, he didn'tlook like an authorto me. [Laughs.] I feltI didn'tlook like an
553
authorat thattimeeither.I used to be one ofthoseordinarypeople. I workedso
hard throughmytwenties.I'm froma practicalfamily.Aftergraduatingfrom
I became a blue-collarworkerand I workedphysically
college and university,
hard forseven or eightyearswithmywife.Theywere hard days.
So in the firstplace I could feelhe was the same kind of person as I was.
To writesomething,to createsomething,it'shard work.We are happierbeing
a writerthan just a worker,just a laborer.We appreciated it very much. I
could feelthejoy ofwritingfromhis attitude,fromhis way of speaking,from
He was veryhumble.He was not veryarrogantat all. I feltI could
everything.
trusthim as a writer,as a person.Thatwas a verygreatthing.He was the first
person in whom I could conceive ofthatfeeling.
Of course,his writing,his style,is veryimpressiveto me. I guess I didn't
His style
learn thingstechnicallyfromhim because our stylesare different.
is basically realisticand mine is not. I'm more surrealistic,but what we are
doing is verysimilar.It isn'teasy to explain the similarityand the difference.
We are both writingfictionwitheasy wordsbut we are lookingforthedeeper
storywithinthose easy words,so we are doing the same thing.And he was
verysincereand veryhardworking,so those are the reasonswhyI felthe was
a friendand comrade.
Mitoko Hirabayashi(MH): You'vealso spokenfrequentlyofyour admiration
for theBritishnovelistKazuo Ishiguro,especiallyhis abilityto look "beyondthe
confinesofa singleculture."What did you mean bythis?
Kazuo Ishigurowas born in Japanand then he went to England and stayed.
While he insiststhathe cannotspeak Japaneseat all,his wifesayshe can speak
good Japanese.[Laughs.] But I thinkhe doesn'twant to speak Japaneseanyforhim.
more,especiallyin Japan,because his Japaneseis not sufficient
he
is
because
cultural
I am interestedin his
Japanese a
background
hundredpercent.But he chose to stayin England. Thereare some contradictionsin him. I can feelitwhen I read his books. Its verystrangebecause when
he writesabout Japanor Japanesesociety,it is as if a foreigneris describing
Japaneseculture.But when he writesabout Britishthings,like a butleror an
aristocrat,it'slike he's looking at Britishsocietythroughthe eyes of Japanese
people. The Britishcharactershe writesabout look like Japanesepeople. It's
verystrange.Thatis whatI'm interestedin,thosecontradictions.Of coursehe
is lookingforhis own identityas a Japanesewriterwho lives in England.
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THE GEORGIA REVIEW
We
My own opinion is thatmost of us are lookingforour own identity.
are holdingour own contradictions.His own approach to theworldcould be
generalized.That'swhat I feelfromhis books. What he's tryingto do is very
importantforliterature.It's a verydifficultand serious thing.I admire his
attitudeand his skill.
translated
JE:You'verecently
J.D. Salinger'sA Catcherin theRye.I was wonderingwhenyoufirstread his workand to whatextentyou thinkyou'reinfluenced
byhis writingtoo?
I read thatbook when I was sixteenor seventeen.
JE:That'swhenI read it too.
[Laughs.] I was impressedwhen I read it. But I wasn't thinkingof writing
somethingmyselfat thattime;I just enjoyedreadingit.It'skindofstrangebut
I didn'trereadthebook afterthat.I put it in thebookshelfand it stayedthere
all thetime.But thatbook is veryimportantto me. It's greatbecause it'svery
honest.It has a beautifulstyleand it has a drive.I was asked to translateit a
couple ofyearsago and I did it.I enjoyedtranslatingitverymuch. It was fun,
Some people
just fun.But I don'tthinkI was influencedbythebook strongly.
thinkthatI was influencedby it,but the factis I just loved it.
JE:Youspentmuchofthelate eightiesand earlyninetiesabroad,firstin Europe
and lateras a visitingscholarin the U.S. Whydid you decide to leaveJapanat
thistime,and in whatwaysdid beingabroad affect
yourwriting?
The one reason,thebiggestreason,is I didn'thave to be here.I am a writer.I
could workanywherein the world.The second reason is I feltthatI was not
loved by people here. [Chuckles.] I was so different
fromotherwritershere.
I was a black sheep in the literaryworld of Japan.Readersloved me and they
read my books very eagerlyand enthusiastically.But people in the literary
worlddidn'tappreciatemyworkor love me. Some people were attackingme.
Theysaid I was destroyingthe traditionof Japaneseliterature.That is what I
did. [Laughs.]It'sconstructive
destruction.I had faiththatI was doingtheright
But
the
noises
were
thing.
big,so big,thatI just wantedto getout. I wantedto
writebooks in quiet surroundings.That'swhyI chose Europe in thefirstplace.
I had a friendin Rome. She invitedus to come so we wentto Greecefirst,
then
555
Rome; I wrotetwo or threebooks while I was stayingin Europe. So I thinkit
was a good decisionto move to Europe. I didn'twantto be spoiled bythefame.
I was gettingfamouswhen I leftJapanin 1986 or 1987.Some people thought
ofme as a cultauthorand I didn'twantto be spoiled bythosethings.I wanted
to be alone and I wantedto look at myselfsincerely.I was nobody in Europe.
These days mybooks are translatedinto severalEuropean languages,but not
then.I could be anonymous.
MH: Did youfeelcomfortable
beinganonymous,beingalone?
CusYes and no. It'snot easy to live in a foreigncountry.People are different.
us
to
live
in
are
different.
It
wasn't
for
toms are different.
Foods
Europe.
easy
But I feltI was freeat least.Thatwas good, verygood. So lifein foreigncountriesfittedme well. But nobody missed us. [Laughs.] And I did not miss anyone. I just missed Japanesefood,like tofuor soba. That'sall.
MH: Whenyou startedwritingyou said ofAmericathatyou werenotinterested
Whatinterested
in it "as entity."
you was "Americadiscoveredin mytemporality
. . . seen througha glass window."How did Americaappear toyou throughthis
window?In whatwayshad it been translated
foryou?
In the1960s,when I was a teenager,itwasn'teasyto go abroad. Now it'seasyto
go to America.It'scheap. But in the 1960s itwas just a dream to go to foreign
countries.I was looking at American tv shows and I was readingAmerican
books. Americanculturewas everywherearound us. But we could not go to
But I enjoyed
America,or anyothercountry.So therewas a kindoffrustration.
thatfrustration
verymuch. I thoughtof it as a fiction.I enjoyedit as a fiction
so thatwas funto me. And aftera while I was not interestedin going there.
I didn'thave to go therebecause I could see America throughthe window,
myown fictionalwindow.Thatwas great.That was and is mydisposition,to
fictionalizeeverythingin myown room.
In the 1960s,Americanculturewas so brightand strong.What we wore
was Ivy League style- buttoned-downshirts.[Laughs.] What we listenedto
was Americanmusic- theBeach Boys and ElvisPresley.After1965,theBritish
invasionbegan and the Beatles and the RollingStones came. But beforethat,
all the music was American music, rock and roll. So American culturewas
strong.I didn'tchoose it.It was there.I'm fromKobe. It'sa portcity.Thereare
manyforeignsailorsaround thecity.The used bookstoresold paperbacksthat
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THE GEORGIA REVIEW
thesailorsbroughtin. Theywere so cheap. I startedto read those paperbacks
in Englishwhen I was a high school student.I loved it- readingin a foreign
language.It was a new worldto me.
JE:Did you see Americadifferently
afteryou had livedthereforseveralyears,or
wereyou stillseeingit througha window?
The firstplaces I livedin AmericawerePrincetonand Cambridge,Massachusetts.Theyare fictionalworlds. [Chuckles.]Theyare veryspecial places, very
I drovefromBoston to Long Beach, California.I
IvyLeague. But afterwards,
saw thatit is a verybig country.Different
partshave theirown cultures.They
are so different
fromeach other.It'san extremeopinion,butthecountryofthe
UnitedStatesis kindoffictional.So myfictionalization
ofthatcountrywas not
so wrong.It mighthave been the rightapproach to America.
JE:Accordingto Salman Rushdie,oncea personleaveshome,theplace he or she
leavesrapidlybecomesa kindof"imaginaryhomeland"- apart imaginary,
part
realplace. Is thisan experienceyou can relateto havingbeen awayfromJapan
forseveralyears?
I found certaincontradictionsin America afterlivingthereforfouror five
yearsbecause I wantedto be independent.In Americaor in Europe,people are
independentfromthe start.In Japan,that'snot the case. I had to thinkabout
whatI would become afterbeing independent.Being independentis not the
purpose in life.That is what I thought,especiallyin America. There should
be some purpose in lifeas an independentperson. That'sa new concept in
mylife.In Japan,as a fictionwriter,I was tryingto make up myown fictional
world.I was in myown worldand I was bymyself.You could sayitis a kindof
an escape. I didn'tthinkitwas an escape. I thoughtitwas makingup myown
worldhere,thisinnerworldin an outerworld.But in America,I feltitwasn't
enough. I feltI had to build up somethingmore positive,more constructive.
Then I startedto writeThe Wind-UpBirdChronicle.I thinkthatnovel is more
positiveand more constructive.In otherwords,I have changed a lot through
writingthatbook. I am looking fora new image of myself,of my life.It's a
turningpoint,I guess. I thinkit was good to go to Americato live. Of course
thereare good sides and bad sides to America. So I looked at it throughmy
own eyes. But America inspiredme to be more positive.You cannot escape
fromsociety.
557
MH: You returnedtoJapanin theaftermath
oftwonationaltragedies:theearthquake in Kobe thatkilledoverfive thousandpeople and thesaringas attackon
theTokyounderground.You have approachedtheseeventsthroughbothfiction
and nonfiction,
inAftertheQuake and Underground.Did you havea particular
in
mind
when
you beganwritingthesebooks?
genre
Afterthose two tragedies- the earthquake and the sarin gas attack- I feltI
had to go back to Japanand do something.But I had no conceptofwhatI was
goingto do. I didn'thave any definedgenre.I feltthatI would be able to find
what I should do when I returnedto Japan,when I was looking around the
but
countrystandingon the ground.The firstthingI did was Underground,
I don'tthinkof it as nonfiction.It'snot fiction,but its not nonfictioneither.I
thosevictims,
wantto defineitas a collectionofnarratives.Those interviewees,
about
the
tell.
were
fact,but it
talking
They
theyhad theirown narrativesto
is not the fact,a hundredpercent.Those factsare coming throughtheirown
experiences.It's a narrative.They had been tellingtheirnarrativesto many
people beforeI met them.But theyfeltthattheyhadn'tsaid enough because
veryfewpeople had listenedto theirnarrativessincerely.ButI did. I listenedto
theirstoriesveryclosely,verycarefully,
verywarmly,verykindly.It'sveryhard.
Theyappreciatedmyattitude.So theyofferedme theirnarratives.Nonfiction
admires factsand truth,but mine does not. I admire theirnarratives.They
are lively.Theyare fresh.Theyare honestnarratives.Thatis what I wantedto
collect.Some criticscriticizedme fornot provinganythingor separatingfact
fromfiction.But I just wanted to collect these honest narratives.What they
talkedabout wasn'tnecessarilythetruth,but I didn'tcare. Iftheyfeltthatway,
thatwas thetruthto me.
JE:I remember
you stateat onepointin thebookthatsomeofthenarrativescontradicteach otherbut thattheyare stilltrueas memories,trueas experiences.
it doesn'tmatter.
Yes. If some parts of theirnarrativeswere misinformation,
I was impressed
truth.
make
the
broad
would
information
Totalizationofthe
up
bytheirwayofspeaking;I was moved.Thatwas quitea new experienceforme,
just to listento otherpeople'snarratives.I changed a lot afterthatexperience.
I spentone whole yearlisteningto theirstories.It was toughworktoo. But I
learneda lot. Then I startedto writea collectionof shortstoriesregardingthe
earthquake.I set myselfthreerulesbeforeI startedto write.The firstwas that
the storiesshould be writtenin the thirdperson. Thatwas myfirstattemptat
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THE GEORGIA REVIEW
writingin thethirdperson.The second was thatthestoriesshouldbe about the
earthquakein Kobe, butwithoutdescribingtheearthquakedirectly.The third
thingwas thatthestoriesshouldn'thappen in or around Kobe. In otherwords,
I was tryingto writea storyabout the earthquake but not the earthquake
itself.Not the people who sufferedin the earthquake.It'sa kind of challenge.
I enjoyedthose rules.I thinkit was good. What I wantedto describewas the
not the earthquakeitself.What I wanted to writeabout was how
aftermath,
should be general,not onlyin
people sufferedfroma distance.The suffering
in
but
also
this
and
in
the
world.
Kobe,
country
People feelthatthisgroundis
not solid. It can be turnedupside down at anymoment.When thatbook was
translatedand publishedin America,it was just after9/11.1 had manyletters
fromAmericanreaders.You could feelthe suffering
fromthat"earthquake."
The situationis the same. No groundis solid. That'sa mutualfeeling.
JE:So theearthquakebecomesa metaphorthen?
Yes,that'sright.In 1995,people in Japandidn'thave faithin thesafetyof Japanese society,economicallyand socially.The earthquakewas just a symbolof
those insecurities.The saringas attacktoo. So thatsense ofinsecuritycontinues to apply,I guess. People say those ten years are a lost decade to Japan.I
have thesame feeling.Thiswas a lostdecade. Justliketheexperienceofpeople
in the 1930sin America.But we have to seek aftera new value or principleof
living.I thinkthatis whatI have been tryingto do overthelast tenyearsas a
fictionwriter.
JE:In Underground,you speak of thedangerofdefiningindividualsas "good"
or 'evil."In yourfiction,yourdescriptionofviolentacts is similarlyambiguous.
We are notsurehow tojudge thecharacters,or whethertheviolenceisjustified
or not.How wouldyou defineevil?
It is difficult
to define- whatis evil?I don'tthinkI can explainwhatis evil,but
I can explain what is dangerous.Those two thingsmightbe similarin some
places. When I am writinga story,I go down to the dark places, to the deep
places, like the bottomof a well or a basement.It'sdarkand it'sdamp and it's
sometimesdangerous.You cannot tellwhat is in thatdarkness.But I have to
enterthatdarknessbecause thatis whatI feelwhen I am writingfiction.I find
good thingsand bad thingsand dangerousthingssometimes,and I describe
them.Evilfiguresin mybooks,likeBorisin TheWind-UpBirdChronicle.They
559
are whatI saw when I enteredthedarkness.I can feelit.I can feeltheirbreath.
I am scared sometimes.I am tryingto describethose thingshonestly.I don't
know whatit means,but I can feelthem.
In Underground,
of course Asahara,the cultleader,is an evil figure.He's
I
evil.
can
that.
He destroyedmanypeople for... I don'tknow what.
pure
say
He's evil or has an evil mind. I don't know. What he was tryingto do was
destroythissystem,thissociety.He was weirdand twisted.He had a darkness,
a big void withinhimself.I could feelwhile I was writingthatbook thatthis
I was
guyis evil,pure evil. That was so scary.AfterpublishingUnderground,
to
find
what
is
this
evilness.
Asahara
is
a
character.
trying
veryexceptional
He's mad, of course. But we mighthave our own insanity,or madness,those
kinds of indecentthings,in ourselves.I feltI had to findthose thingsin my
own darkness.Thatis what I have been tryingto do afterthatbook.
Writingfictionis just a dream.You just experiencethe procedureof the
dream. You cannot change the storyline. You have to do what you have to
do just to experiencethe dream,totallyfreely.We fictionwriterscan do that
awake. We don'thave to sleep when we want to see the dream. We can continueintentionally
to see thosedreamsas long as we want.When I concentrate
on writing,I can dream as long as I want. I can continuedreamingthe next
That is a greatexperience,but dangerous
day and the nextday,intentionally.
sometimesbecause we are descendingdeeper and deeper,darkerand darker.
So ifyou are not trained,it'sdangerous.If you are not strongphysicallyand
mentally,it could be dangerous.I thinkthatis what I am doing,more or less.
If you had a nightmare,you would cryand wake up. But we have to endure.
We have to keep on experiencingthe evil nightmare.In fact,I cannot change
thestorybecause the storyis independent.What I have to do is to followthat
dream,thatstory,as it is goingon, advancing.So as I followthose storylines
I don'tknow whereI am goingto go in thatdarkness.
"
MH: In Underground,you statethat whatwe need.. .are wordscomingfrom
anotherdirection,new wordsfor a new narrative.Anothernarrativeto purify
Whattypesofold and new narrativeswereyou thinking
thisnarrative."
ofwhen
?
made
these
remarks
you
What I stated in that book is that the Aum gas attack is a kind of conflict
between theirnarrativesand our narratives.Their narrativesare cult narratives.Theyhave theirown strong-mindednarrativeand it'sverypersuasive.It
56o
THE GEORGIA REVIEW
attractsmanyintelligent
youngpeople to theircult.Theybelieve in the kingdom of the beautifulsoul. They attackedthis ordinary,conventionalworld.
Theythinkof it as a corruptedsystemand believe theyhave to destroythat
system.That'swhy theyattackedthe subway to make a disturbance.They
did it because theybelieved in theirnarrative.Theythinkthatthisnarrative
is right,definitively,
absolutely,and the otherworlds narrativeis wrongand
and
should
be destroyed.
corrupted
Sometimes,we who live in this conventional,chaotic world wonder
whetherour narrativemightbe wrong,mightbe corrupted.But thisis all that
we have. It'sjust like democracy,or it'sjust likethe marriageinstitution.They
are not perfect,of course. But that'swhat we have in our hands. It's tested.
I just wanted to know what kind of narrativeswe have in our hands. That's
whatI was tryingto do bycollectingthoseactual,real narratives.Theyare not
beautifulstories,but theyare real things.And I collected themin the book,
Underground.
AfterI wroteUnderground,
I metcultpeople and talkedwiththem.They
are verytalkativeand theyspeak veryfluently.
Theyare cleverand intelligent
more
than
real
world
people,
interesting
people. But I forgotalmost everythingoftheirstories.Theyare veryshallow and superficial.When the strong
wind comes, theyare all gone. But the storiesof the real world people stay.
They have theirown substance; theyhave theirown weight,and theystay.
They are not so smartor so clever.Their storiesare sometimesboring but
interviews.They stayin
theystay.I noticed thatafterI did sixty-something
in
mymind, myheart,in mysoul: Theystayrightnow. What I learned from
thatexperienceis thatifa storyis strongit stays,even ifit'sawkward,even if
it'snot smart.
JE: Your imaginativeobsessionwith undergroundholes,passages, and wells
seemsto make literalFranz Kafka'scommenton theneedfor novelstoprovide
an ax to thefrozenheartwithin.Psychoanalysts
wouldprobablylinkit to the
unconscious.Whydo you thinkyou keep comingback to theseimagesin your
?
writing
I thinkI've answeredthatquestion. Literally,I like going down to thatdark
hole whereI writefiction.Those imagesareveryhaunting.Theydon'tleaveme.
Descending.Thereare so manygood thingsin darkness.Some people saythat
it is Jungian.But I haven'tread much of his work.I am not interestedin that
561
kind ofpsychoanalyticalthing.It would be a distraction.I am a fictionwriter.
I trustmyown instinct,not the theory.That is whyI don t read Jungsbooks
much. Some people say thereis a similaritybetweenmyfictionand his work.
It mightbe true.But I have reachedthissituationthroughmyown world,not
Carl Jungs world.
When I startto writefiction,I have no time or plot or anything.I have
some scene or some fragmentor some conversationor some ending. I sit at
my desk and startto writefiction.I do not know what kind of storyI will
writeat all. I just followthe storyin mymind. I trustmyunconsciousness,my
unconsciousworld.Trustis everything,
trustingtheworld.To be spontaneous
is veryimportantto me when I am writing- to be freeand to be spontaneous.
You could say its a kind of therapyforme, writing.I'm going down into the
depthsofmyown mind to findmanythings.Im nothealed,you know.Its not
a healing.Itsjustfindingmyselfmoredeeply,morehonestly.Yourdreamsdon t
betrayyou. It just comes fromthe inside. Fiction is the same thing.It comes
frommyown innerworld.Readers can sharethatworld.Thats a greatthing,
I think.And theyare payingmoneyto shareit. [Laughs.] That'sgreat.
is viewedas a positiveexperience.In HardJE:In your workself-elimination
Boiled Wonderland,forexample}themain characterchoosestostayin theEnd
of the Worldratherthanfollow his shadow back into the "real" world.In A
Wild Sheep Chase, charactersare literally
possessedbyanothercreatureand are
the
forcedto reassesstheirpreviouslives.Do you see yourwritingas celebrating
or
the
over
the
safetyofstayingstill preserving
possibilitiesofannihilating self
onespreviousexistence?
When I wroteHard-BoiledWonderland
, I had no idea how to finishit. There
are fourchoices. The shadow staysand the protagonistgoes. The protagonist
staysand the shadow goes. Both of them stay.Both of them go. I couldn't
choose at all. When I reached the finalchapter,I was totallyat a loss how to
end the story.I triedthreeversionsand afterall, I cannot rememberwhy I
took thepresentconclusion.So it could have been different.
[Laughs.] I chose
thatconclusion storywise.I feltthat conclusion was the most naturalat the
time.But ifI wereto rewritethatbook at thismoment,maybeI would choose
a different
conclusion. I don't know. It's not a finalconclusion. It could be
different.
Nothingis conclusive.Its changeable.I alwaysfeelthateverything
is changeablein myfiction.
5Ó2
THE GEORGIA REVIEW
Regarding annihilation,I guess I have been changing. When I was
younger,I think I had a tendencyto go somewhere else, leaving this real
world.As a fictionwriter,I could finda veryquiet, sacred place in myself.I
could escape fromthisrealistic,chaoticworld.Thatwas mydream.But I have
changed since then. I am gettingmore positive,and the storiesI writehave
been changinga lot thesepast twentyyears.I wroteHard-BoiledWonderland
in 1985or 1986,close to twentyyearsago. I wroteThe WildSheepChase in 1983,
morethantwentyyearsago. So I have changed.Butin America,mybooks have
been publishedout ofchronology.So its confusing.Readerscannotfollowmy
progress,my career.The Wild Sheep Chase and Hard-Boiled Wonderlandare
books I wrotewhen I was in myearlyand mid-thirties.Its quite a long time
ago. I dont know whybut when I was in myearlythirtiesI just wantedto go
somewhereelse. I was just curious about whatkind ofworld I had in myself.
But now,I thinkthatwas dangeroussometimes.Its not the place to escape. I
I guess.I think
haveto build up some positivethingsin it.That'sthedifference,
I have maturedas a fictionwriter.
I was just curious.What kind ofworlddo I have in mymind?I was just
likea littleboy findinga bigbarn.What is in thisbarn?Thereare so manynew
and strangethingsin thisbarn. I was just a curious kid. [Laughs.] You know
thatfeeling?
MH: You oftenuse katakana ratherthan Chinesescriptfor characters'names.
"
"
Yourcharactersare called JohnnieWalker,"
"Kakfa,"or Man Friday"At times
thesenamessuggesta certaindegreeofanonymity
whileat othermomentsthey
evokea numberof images and meaningsin readers.What do you intendby
usingthosenames?
In the earlyyears of my career,I just hated to put names on my characters.
Its too conventional,I felt.IfI use the name, say,"MurakamiHaruki,"forone
of my characters,mura means "village,"kami means "upper."Haru means
ki means "tree."Each wordhas itsown image as a Chinese character.
"spring,"
I wanted to avoid those characterizations.If I put the name in katakana,its
moreanonymous,as you say.Its a kind of symbol.Its a sign.Its just the same
thingFranz Kafkadid in The TrialwithK. If the name of the characteris K.,
it could be anybody.It could be you. It could be me. That is a symbolized
message.But ifI put thename K. or M. or F. today,its too much like Kafka.It
is Kafka,so I cant do that.I didnt want to do that.So I use katakananames
formycharacters,mostly.
563
In NorwegianWood, forexample,the name of the protagonistsfriend
is Kizuki. Its kind of a strangename in katakana. But my Chinese translator
asked me one day, "What is the characterof this Kizuki?" I had no idea.
[Laughs.] So I said, "You can put Kizuki in any Chinese characteryou like!"
But I had no idea whatkind ofcharacterto put forKizuki. I don t know; I still
dont know . . . [Laughs.]
a
'
, then,withassociations, like JohnnieWalker or
JE: What about characters
"
ColonelSanders"?
Its just an icon, you know.The characteris myicon. I just wantedto use it as
satire.
"
MH: "HarukiMurakami is almosta brandname inJapan.Thereare numerous
books explainingyour workto readers, many of whichare almost as popular
as the books theyset out to explain. What do you thinkof the Murakami
industry?
I dont understandwhy those books come out. The factthat my books are
to
different
fromotherJapanesewritersmaybe one reason. Since itis difficult
in
the
other
novels
are
some
readers
read
read my novels
read, perhaps
way
those books in orderto look forclues. My novels are not realisticin certain
places, so manypeople wantto know what theymean. I am not interestedin
whatis meantor symbolizedbythem;I would likepeople to read myworkfor
and like to buy
the storyfirst.But thereare manypeople who feeldifferently,
such explanatorymaterial.
MH: Do you feel uncomfortable
, then, thatyour name is used in thisway to
make moneyforotherpeople?
Since I dont read those books myself,I dont understandwhat they'reabout.
I have communicatedbeforewith readers on the Internet.My readers like
at least threeor fourtimes. They rereadthem
to read my novels frequently,
severaltimesto tryand findout whatthenovelsmean. I am verypleased with
those readers,but I dont welcome those who depend on manuals to explain
fiction.
I certainlydon t appreciatethewayin which"HarukiMurakami"is used
as a brand name. However,thereis an eternalrelationbetween writersand
critics.Honestly speaking,writersdont need critics,though it may sound
564
THE GEORGIA REVIEW
arrogant.Of course writersneed readersand readersneed critics.So thereis
some correlationamong the three.
I am not particularlyconscious ofbeing popular or famous,althoughit
mightsound strange.I take the subway,shop,walk around,come home, and
eat dinner.I lead an ordinarylife.I am conscious ofbeing a writeronlywhen
writingat a desk,but not on otheroccasions. IfHaruki Murakamiis used as a
brandname,itfunctionsas an independentthing,separatefrommyself.I don t
have anythingto do withit and tryto distancemyselffromit intentionally.
celebratedthecontribution
JE:JayRubinrecently
yourwife,Yoko,makestoyour
is
and
mostimportantreader.What
AccordingtoRubin,Yoko yourfirst
writing.
typeofreaderis she?
Usually,I writenine or ten revisionsof each book. I pass the draftto Yoko at
thethirdor fourthrevisionand she reads it and she tellsme her opinion.And
we discuss it fora couple of days. Then I startto rewriteagain. When I have
rewritten
it,I pass itto heragain and she tellsme her opinion again. Thishapthree
or fourtimes.It is a verytoughjob, especiallyifits a big book like
pens
The Wind-UpBird Chronicleor somethinglike that.But she likes to read my
books. She'sverycandid.
We are husbandand wifeand we have livedtogetherformorethanthirty
yearsand we know each otherverywell. She has a verystrongcriticalmind.
I'm veryluckyabout that.Shes fair.Shes mywifeand she'son myside ofcourse
but as a reader,she'sneutraland independent.Thatis whatI mean byfair.She
cannot create.She's not thattype.But as a critic,she's firstrate. Sometimes,
she'sveryhard. Sometimes,I feelveryunpleasant or uncomfortable.When
she tellsme her opinions,most ofthemare critical.She advises me to rewrite,
sometimesa verybig partofthebook. Sometimes,I agree.Othertimes,I don't
agree.Sometimeswe quarrel... or discuss ... or dispute.And sometimesthis
takes all night.UsuallyI go to bed earlybut sometimeswe will be up forfive
or six hours at night,tilldawn. I do thatbecause thatis a veryimportantand
criticalthingto do. I am veryluckybecause she'smyfirstreaderand she'smy
editor.
I have had some good editors in my life,but theycome and theygo
because theybelong to the company,to the publishinghouse. Sometimes,I
don'tknowwhichside theyare on, on myside or on thecompany'sside. Especiallyin Japan.The publishinghouse is a verystrongcompany.It'sa system.
565
Theybelongto thatsystem.Atthesame time,she or he is myeditor.Thingsare
kind ofcomplicatedsometimes.But Yoko is mywifeand shes on myside. She
stays,forbetteror worse. [Laughs.] Shes a stablepoint. She'salwaysthere.
MH: For manyyears,you respondedpersonallyto readersquestionsthroughan
Internetsite.Whatwas themostinteresting
queryyou everreceived?
I had myown home page forthreeor fourmonthsat a timebecause therewere
so manyrepliesand threeor fourmonthswas thelimit.I had to spareso much
timeto maintainthatwebsite.When I opened it,I looked at itveryeagerlyand
If I got 6,000 mails,I'd send a replyto 1,500.It'stoughwork.
enthusiastically.
The most interestingquestions are usually fromteenagersor twentysomethingboysor girls.When theyfindout I am theirfather'sor mothers age,
theyare so surprised.Theyask me, "Whydo you know what I feel?My father
and motherdon'tunderstandwhatI am thinking.Butyou seem to knowwhat
I am feeling.It is verystrange."At the same time,theirfatherand motherare
readingmybooks. In one family,theyare passing the books betweenparents
and children.I thinkthat'sgood. I am veryglad to hear that.Sometimes,they
discuss my books together.They want to know why theirchildrenor their
parentslike thatbook.
suchas e-mail
MH: Manypeople thinkthatthedevelopment
ofnew technologies
Do you agree?
and theInternetchallengethefutureofliterature.
Yes,but . . . thisform,fiction,has more than two thousandyearsof tradition
and experience,so we have alwaysbeen challengedbysomethingand survived.
But sometimes,I feelthatthe nineteenthcenturywas a betterperiod because
theyhad no tv, no movingpictures,no Internet,no game center,no Walkman. All theycould do was go to the opera or read a book. And thelongerthe
better.The opera is threeor fourhours,whereaswithDostoevski and Dickens
you have to spend monthsto read them.I miss those periods. But anyway,we
have to survivethisperiod,whetherwe like it or not. Some authorscomplain
thatpeople don'tread books anymore,as before.But I don'tcomplain.This is
theperiod we are livingin. We have to survive.I thinka certainpercentageof
people read books even ifwe have strongcompetitors.
My book NorwegianWood sold two millioncopies. But mycore readership is usuallybetween200,000 and 300,000. Theywill read mybooks very
veryseriously.Others,one million or so, theyare just floatenthusiastically,
566
THE GEORGIA REVIEW
ing readers.Theydont read books usually.But ifthereis a bestseller,theyare
interestedin whatkindofbook itis so theybuythatbook and read itand dont
return.But200,000 to 300,000 people read mybooks always.I respectthatfigureverymuch.I trustin them. . . and I can live on thatof course. [Chuckles.]
We have to compete with other media and its possible forwritersto
surviveand to live. In Japan,manyof myreadersread mybooks on the train
when theyare commuting.While commutingits prohibitedto talk on the
cell phone. You cannot listento music on a Walkmanbecause its noisy.And
you cannot see tv on the train.So, its books! The book is a veryprimitive,
verysimple medium . . . but because of its simplicityit has possibility.The
best answeris the commutingtrain.I foundthatwhen I was interviewing
the
from
the
sarin
attackit
those
are
commuterssometimes
people
people
gas
takestwohoursone way.Thatadds up to fourhoursa day.You can read books
fourhours a day.Thatguyis quite a reader.So, I think,yes,we can survive.
JE:You have complainedin thepast about theway in whichsome criticshave
describedyour workas notparticularlyJapanese.Do you thinkthereis such a
thingas a nationalstyleofwriting?
[Long pause.] I writemy books in Japaneseof course. And mostlyI write
about Japanesepeople livingin Japan.So naturallyI thinkI am a Japanese
authorwho is writingJapanesenovels.That'sverynaturalto me. Ifsomebody
criticizesme fornot being so Japanese,I dont have any idea . . . because it is
verynaturalto me.
I don t eat ricetoo muchbecause I've livedin foreigncountriesformany
years.I can live withoutrice or sushi. Even when I live in Japan,sometimes
I forgetto eat rice fora week and I forgetto eat sushi fora couple of weeks.
I dont notice.But some people thinkthisis strange.Ifyou are Japanese,you
have to eat rice once a day,theysay.But it is mylibertyto eat rice or not. Its
mylife.I thinkits thesame kindofthing.I don t listento enka,Misora Hibari,
or musiclikethat.I dont listento thatmusicbecause I dont likeit.And some
people criticizeme. You don'tlistento Misora Hibari. You are not Japanese.
But I don'tmind because I preferSchubert.That'smylife.
JE:Theevocationofmemoryin yourworkis oftenlinkedto theact oflistening
to music- mostfamouslyin NorwegianWood, butalso in South oftheBorder,
567
West of the Sun and in Kafka on the Shore. Are theresome sensationsmusic
cannot?
evokesthatliterature
Oh, yes,music helped me a lot. In mytwentiesI was runninga jazz club and
listeningto jazz music frommorningto midnighteveryday, seven days a
week. The music soaked my mind and my body,everyplace of my body. It
yearsold,
stayed.When I decided to writesomethingwhen I was twenty-nine
I didn'tknow how to writeit because I had no experienceat all. I was not a
good readerofJapaneseliteratureso I didn'tknow how to writefiction.At one
point,I thoughtI should writethebook as ifI was playinggood music.What
good harmony,good melodyline. Three
good music requiresis good rhythm,
things.Writingis the same- rhythm,harmony,and melody.Once I realized
that,it got easier forme to write.I wrotethatbook, Hear the WindSing,just
like I was playingan instrument.I think,even now, two good points of my
writingare mysense of rhythmand sense ofhumor.
For example,I like drivingto Elvin Jones.When you look at his playing
his cymbalis just an anchor alwaysmakingthe same rhythm,
verycarefully,
verystable,verysolid. The othertwo arms are going crazy he's doing wild
things- butthecymbalremainsthesame. Thatis whatI wantto do. You could
say I was influencedverystronglyby music. Many artistswritefiction.Many
musicianswritefiction.But I thinkmusicians are betterfictionwritersthan
artistsbecause artistsareverynarcissistic.[Laughs.] Musicianskeep on going,
always.Theyare too busyto be narcissistic.

interview of Haruki Murakami

Transcription

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