The City And Its Uncertain Walls was the first book from Murakami I read.
And it is also one of his latest. But, from what I learned from the afterword, it is also something he wrote already in the 80’s. Though he wasn’t satisfied with that for more than 40 years. Which is why he finally got himself to revamp the novel now.
To his satisfaction.
In any way, the book is strange. Perhaps something not unusual for Murakami. Magical realism. Ghosts, parallel worlds and other otherworldly stuff. I don’t mind this. I like fantasy and sci-fi. So this is not the issue. It’s just that it is so weird.
I don’t really know what to take from this book. There’s over 400 pages of it and at the end I was just counting them and looking forward to be done with it.
It is not bad but not very good either. Or maybe Murakami is just not my cup of tea.
What is it to become a few lines from a beautiful poem?
Considering the above, the closest to something I took from this book are some interesting quotes. For example:
[…] one reason is that when I wear a skirt I, ah, feel like I’ve become a few lines from a beautiful poem […]
Now, that is poetic. What is it to feel like a few lines from a beautiful poem? Well, I guess I’ll have to try wearing skirt at least once to find out.
And maybe that is it. The key to reading Murakami.
Maybe it is not about any particular story (or in this book at least) but rather about the feelings lingering in the back of one’s head when reading it.
Several realities
Having that in mind, perhaps I should focus more on some of the particular ideas or thoughts that I find interesting.
Such as the one about what is real, or what constitutes our reality:
[…] there isn’t just one reality. Reality is something you have to choose by yourself, out of several possible alternatives.
This makes sense. Maybe. Is it to say that we are responsible for our actions and by those actions we form the reality?
Interesting. Poetic. Weird.
Embracing the weirdness
Even though it does not entirely make sense (but hey, what does), I somewhat enjoy the weird stuff.
And although I gave this book only three stars (out of five), it is still one of the books I quite often think about (similarly to Kafka’s The Trial).
Does that mean that three star books tend to influence me the most?
