Book Review : Kafka On the Shore

This Book Review got published on The Tossed Salad (click on title) . 

One of the reasons I am always drawn  to Murakami’s writing is because it makes one extremely cynical and critical of their own likes and dislikes and how they view life. I sometimes find myself judging my own self rather than the content and the context: Did I really like this book? Do I relate to these feelings, am I scandalized or appalled or simply approving? Of course these ruminations are not mandatory, but if one does find themselves over thinking after reading a Murakami book, it is not a reason to be surprised or much too perturbed.

The mystical, the supernatural and the sexual overtones of his work are a manifestation of feelings, perspective and desires. It would not be fair to  say that his writing is food for thought, but it is definitely a decadent dessert worth the money.

Kafka on the Shore is one of those books which keeps you completely immersed till the very last page and then leaves you feeling extremely confused. You find yourself questioning whether you actually did like the book or if you liked it just because the book carries a certain reputation, falls into a specific genre you usually like and is heralded by people who might be considered fashionable enthusiasts in your social circle or on the Internet .  Murakami does have an exclusive and ardent fan following. Either or tether ways, his books do make for great reading and one will enjoy reading him if the reader enjoys literary fiction.

While reading the book, I went through several motions; the assertive yet esoteric tone of the book got me hooked early on. The chapters alternate between Kafka, a fifteen year old runaway, and Nakata, an old man who can speak to cats, tracing their bizarre journey and interesting accomplices. It keeps one engaged, as the tone and tenor of both the parallel stories are quite different. While Kafka’s is sexually charged with a familiar youthful angst, Nakata’s is spiritual and calm with wonky wonders that balances the tone. Interestingly, all the violence is depicted in Nakata chapters.

The book starts rather dramatically with young Kafka running away from home and provides the alternate and rather detailed explanation of a mysterious incident that changed Nakata’s life forever. The author is able to draw the reader deep into the story and into one’s own mind. The plot is mesmerizing, slightly spooky and convoluted, with elaborate philosophical and spiritual musings of Ms Seiko, Oshima and Kafka, the principal characters. These musings are unrealistic and over the top but carry strong content, which really keeps one pondering over them. Nakata’s characterization is brilliant and endearing. The sequence of events flows steadily, but Murakami just drops certain explanations from the book, never to be answered. The reader loses track of the layered references and the engaging mystery.

Bizarre and supernatural sequence of events like leeches and mackerel falling from the sky, talking cats and ghostly spirits are easily weaved into the plot — characteristic of Murakami’s work. However, this book definitely feels more controlled than Murakami’s other great book Dance Dance Dance, where one is sure that the writer has let his pen, feelings and imagination run wild and bouncing.

The book ends on a disappointing note. Too many loose ends make the plot unsubstantial.  One might find themselves re reading certain parts of the book; certain parts definitely need going back to, especially the part where a ghostly spirit – Captain Sanders makes an appearance. But the ending may be forgettable for some.

All in all, the book is still recommended for the undeniable brilliance in Murakami’s prose.

Open Space Blogging opportunity

So I have started blogging for Open space. Open Space is the civil society and youth outreach initiative of the Centre for Communication and Development Studies (CCDS). I’m really excited about this opportunity. It is always so nice to be writing on an outside platform and not just ranting on one’s own blog aint it?

URL : OPEn Space Blogs 


Also check : Soldier Who Lives on 

It’s a tubby baby step towards that ‘I want to be a columnist’ dream I secretly hold .Of course I shouldn’t harp and hope too much too soon since I have only just started.

As for life in general.. The Mumbai monsoons get on my nerves on days I have to be at work, and make me merry on days I don’t. Mumbai is getting filthier by the hour; I won’t be surprised if it bursts open very soon. I can see an obvious, extremely obvious degeneration in sensibilities of the people around me. But I’ll leave this gripe for another blog post. But seriously look around you, walk slowly and just observe the people ..You will be oh so surprised at the de-evolution.

Work on Athayogashala is going on.

Advertising is interesting, wrote some lines on my experiences at Saatchi & Saatchi, yet to post. 

So what have I gone and done now??

Let’s just say, I finally decided to let go of my inhibitions and confusions, and do something about my misery.

I went ahead and did it. And I am still trying to understand the consequences of my actions. I cannot help but mournfully whine about the fact that there was no drum roll, no red carpets, no ‘gosh love you’, no ‘this is where I belong ‘ moment.

Instead for the first time in well quite a few years I feel an odd sense of unbelongingness towards my own better nay crazy sense. Nonetheless better sense prevailed (rather held on) and I continue to trudge along. Never been so unsure. But I know I have made the right call.

I feel that even though I might not exactly be an authority on life and its matters, I really don’t need much of an experience in such matters et all when I make a reflection that ‘Life’ can sometimes really be a bitch. Even if the ‘Don’t Panic’ text is written in large friendly letters, it does very little to calm the ‘Let’s Explore, fug what have I gotten myself into’ state of mind.

All in all, Life can sometimes really be doggish … big and fat, round and hell bound. Smells too.

I would like to add that the hammer man has left town and so has that dull throbbing of my head I had been suffering from for over a year. And that is what is keeping me afloat, for I am definitely breathing better. It is still murky waters and I am struggling to swim. I could do with some friendly lift me ups.

I do tend to go into this ‘What’s with the attitude, people’ line of thought, but lucky for me I realize that it will resolve itself (or them self) in due course of time or maybe I am just being stuck up. Both ways it does nothing to help my cause, so I have dropped it.

It is exciting though, often I am amazed, impressed and almost always learning interesting things. I guess in the end, I just gotta suck it up, forget past laurels and triumphs. Stick to the fact that I am here to learn and understand in order to realize the bigger agenda of my life which fricking remains elusive.

Lot’s of feel n felts – the thesaurus offered no ‘I’m feeling it’ alternatives. Oh and I also got to learn to write shorter precise leveled sentences, for my own good.

Such esoteric rants makes my head spin too.

PS: The england goalie Green is in so much trouble.

When you're Griping and You Know it.. Clap your Hands

At the end of the day a Relationship triumphs. You can spend a thousand years fathoming the unseen intricacies and the misunderstood squabbles and whines. But you have to understand that in the end, when the end comes, it is simply because there is nothing left in you for the relationship to take. So it decides to leave you.

I treat it as an entity. You, me and relationship-three entities. It takes the best of you and your beloved, and what is left in the end are nagging, groveling, griping, selfish, hurtful, spiteful and nasty people while Mr Relationship attains sainthood –of all that was good.

A relationship takes away so much of good in you, that you are left with nothing but regret, despise and a whole load of other debasing and damaging thoughts and foreclosures which sometimes (subjectively speaking) might drown you into the murky waters of intro and retrospection.

I hope you make it to the shore.

Yer Yer Yer... Undone !!!

There’s my life, it’s only been 24 years, and yet I find myself wishing I get back a few of my past years (they are after all My Years) , even though I still have more than half of my eternity left. What is it about the past that makes us always want to go back to either change, relive or rectify??? I often ponder, sometimes lament but I don’t wish to unmeet a single person I’ve met.

And then there is the future. I am so scared to age and yet I can’t wait for things to fall in place, but when I walk down a street and see a woman with a child, I wince. And the fact most these women are fat gets to me even more. Two years back, I might have not even noticed the woman, and few years before I actually found babies cute.
It peeves me to realize that I consider marriage and babies a part of life’s plan.

And here I am with my life, which is mine, so precious, so eager and effervescent. I’ve seen and felt so much and you don’t know so much of it. I feel the need to tell you, to explain , relate stories, my experiences, my happiness, my sadness, it’s strange--- it saddens me that it doesn’t make a difference to you.

But pray we meet someday and you love me.

My Extraordinary Love

Love is extraordinary; it has the power to destroy and to redeem.
I think I won’t really ever understand true love. My being on this planet has become so abortive and selfish that I have begun to gauge everything I do in those terms. I do have visions of great love, of probable love; I might be in love too as I write this, but unfortunately I realize I will never go down the path of greatness in love.
I’m selfish, I deceive, I measure and I demand. I rationalize that if one loves, one needs to give... The other person that is. If one loves one needs to be big …the other person that is. Success is imperative, for the other person that is. There is no room to make mistakes, no room for hurt, no room for doubt and one’s own shortcomings, no room for the ‘me’ first… of the other person that is.
I receive, I receive I receive. Does this scare me, no, not really… I’m shielded by the fallacy that I am a victim, and like the terror makers of the world, I feel I have the cause, the right and the luxury.
And if I do find this love...it will be extraordinary…. My extraordinary love.
Impossible, bizarre … no it’s the premise of a modern day tragedy. How Homer glorified hero worship, justifying the need and cause of war, I wish to glorify My Extraordinary Love. Some people are made to fight, and some are made to be loved… I am made to be LOVED. I don’t seek to be a modern day Aphrodite; my endeavor is much more humble, real and practical ... Just one person and My extraordinary love.