James Walton

Murakami drops magic for realism in this tale of a lonely Tokyo engineer

A review of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, by Haruki Murakami, translated by Philip Gabriel. It’s impressive that such a brilliant myth emerges from such unspectacular ingredients

Novelist Haruki Murakami Photo: PA Images 
issue 02 August 2014

When Haruki Murakami — Japan’s most successful novelist at home and abroad — was interviewed by the Paris Review in 2004, the questions weren’t always characterised by their pithiness. Many of his novels, the interviewer suggested at one point, are

variations on a theme: a man has been abandoned by, or has otherwise lost, the object of his desire, and is drawn by his inability to forget her into a parallel world that seems to offer the possibility of regaining what he has lost, a possibility that life, as he (and the reader) knows it, can never offer. Would you agree with this characterisation?

Murakami’s answer, in full, was ‘Yes’.

Ten years on, his new novel won’t require him to revise that answer a great deal. One of the variations, though, is that the lost object of Tsukuru Tazaki’s desire is not — or not only — a single woman, but four friends (two girls and two boys) from high school.

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in