After many weekends, I finally finished Haruki Murakami’s piece de resistance. 1Q84 was published in three volumes between late 2009/early 2010. Don’t believe the reviews. Yes, the book is quite detailed but it’s not a slog. The pacing is chippy and the plot, a real page turner. This is the lengthiest work, fiction or nonfiction, that I’ve read thus far. It might be a 2000-page eBook but it felt like 800 pages. Compare with others that are 400 pages but seemed closer to a thousand. 1Q84 as a paperback is about as thick as Infinite Jest but much more accessible to the average reader. No endnotes either. I haven’t read the former but it’s on my radar. If I could find the time, that is.

It’s got a bit of everything. Romance and heartbreak. Youth and old age. Longing and self-actualisation. Magical realism and ‘the town of cats’. Metaphysics and postmodern tropes. There are mentions of Anton Chekhov’s Sakhalin and Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. There’s even a Marshall McLuhan name dropping. The novel’s opening scene references Janacek’s ‘Sinfonietta’.

As the title suggests, the action transpires in an alternate version of 1984, alternating between Tengo and Aomame. The two seemed fated to be apart, until destiny had other ideas. Tengo is the part time maths teacher at the cram school. He secretly ghostwrites this bestselling novel. Meanwhile, Aomame is a fitness instructor who moonlights as a lethal assassin. She takes up the fight for battered women. They are teleported to 1Q84, with two moons and ‘truth is stranger than fiction’. The two were primary school classmates. Both were trapped in unideal circumstances. Aomame was part of a cult while Tengo’s father was a fee collector. The two kids went their separate ways.

Very clever. The ending completes the circle. Once you’ve crested 1Q84 it’s a big achievement. This is my fifth read of the year and the most rewarding. Next up is Michael Connelly’s latest, Nightshade.

Here are a sample of the finest excerpts:

Book I

Appeared to derive a good deal of pleasure from keeping others guessing

Komatsu’s eyes would take on a sharp glow, like stars glittering in the dark winter sky

The Akutawaga prize? Tengo repeated the words softly, as if he were writing them on huge characters with a stick on wet sand.

‘Someone else?’ But he already knew what Komatsu’s answer would be.’

‘You.’

‘It did not sound like all that much fun to Tengo. For one thing, he had never actually seen this “literary world’.”

‘His mouth opening in a big wide grin the likes of which Tengo had never seen.’

‘His last act had been to witness something utterly amazing.’

Apparently asking questions without question marks was another characteristic of her speech

Tengo mentally added a question mark to her comment and answered this new question

Next there was a feature that introduced a clever cat from Shimane prefecture that could open a window and let itself out. Once out, it would close the window. The owner had trained the cat to do this.

…then hung up without saying anything, no goodbye or no see you Sunday, no anything. There was just the click of the connection being cut. Perhaps she had nodded to Tengo before hanging up the receiver. Unfortunately, though, body language generally fails to have its intended effect on the phone.

Tengo’s nickname became NHK.

The difference in treatment was like night and day. It was the greatest strike of good fortune he had ever encountered in life.

When she engaged in conversation, she could only speak one sentence at a time (assuming she was not doing so intentionally).

It might go well at first, but before long people would begin to think that “something” was “funny”.

1Q84 that’s what I’ll call this new world – Aomame.

Tengo’s father was too busy trying to increase his collections, and the girl’s mother was too busy preaching the coming end of the world.

On Sundays, children…should not go around threatening people until they’ve paid their fees or frightening people with warnings about the end of the world.

His smile like a crescent moon at dawn

They would rescue him from this cramped and ugly cage and bring him back where he belonged. Then he would have the most beautiful, peaceful, and free Sundays imaginable.

Tengo had never performed on a percussion instrument nor had any interest in doing so, but once he actually tried playing, he was amazed to find that it was perfectly suited to the way his mind worked.

What did it mean tpfor a person to be free? She would often ask herself. Even if you managed to escape one cage, weren’t you just in another, larger one?

I don’t see any connection between cultural anthropology and stock trading, Tengo said.

In general, there is no connection but there is for him.

This often happened when he was talking with Fuka-Eri. He would momentarily lose track of what he was going to say. It was like sheet music being scattered by a gust of wind.

A tiger may not come out, but there was no telling what might come out instead.

He was no Hitchcockian protagonist, embroiled in a conspiracy before he knew what was happening.

The phone rang in a special way. Just as writing had a particular style, Komatsu’s calls had a particular ring.

I’m strictly a shadow figure. I don’t do well in the sunlight.

In McLuhanesque terms, the medium is the message.

‘Oh well, there’s nothing to be done about the dog’, Tamaru said. ‘She’s dead and won’t be coming back…What worries me though is what happened. It wasn’t something that any ordinary person could do – setting off a bomb inside a dog like that. For one thing, the dog barked like crazy whenever a stranger approached.

Book II

So far, the only accomplishment of which he could be proud was his role as the ghostwriter who turned Air Chrysalis into a bestseller, but that was something he could never mention to anyone.

Tengo sometimes felt that Komatsu had a certain desire for self-destruction. Maybe deep down he was hoping to see the whole plan exposed, a big juicy scandal blow up, and all connected parties blasted into the sky.

There were no phone calls, no letters…no carrier pigeons.

Hey do you smell something human? One of the cats says. ‘Now that you mention it, I thought there was a funny smell the past few days’, another chimes in, twitching his nose. ‘Me too’, says yet another cat. ‘That’s weird, there shouldn’t be any human here, someone adds. ‘No of course not. There’s no way a human could get into this town of cats.’ ‘Still, that smell of theirs is definitely here.’

The young man hears their soft paws padding their way up the stairs.

Sitting so still at the window, his father reminded Tengo of one of van Gogh’s last self-portraits.

It was, without a doubt, Tengo’s father – or rather, the wreckage of Tengo’s father.

While everything was quite vivid, he noticed touches of unreality around the edges. He had boarded a train, visited the ‘Town of Cats’ and come back. Fortunately, unlike the hero of the story, he managed to board the train for the return trip. And his experiences in that town had changed Tengo profoundly.

Someone once said that nothing costs more and yields less benefit than revenge. -Winston Churchill

Did you go to a town of cats, Fuka-Eri asked Tengo.

His chin stuck out like those of the stone faces on Easter Island.

Book III

Like one of those stone guardian dogs at the entrance of a Shinto shrine, he stood stock-still.

Ushikawa put the lighter down and tented his fingers on top of the desk.

How about Proust’s In Search of Lost Time? Tamaru asked

The average woman has about 400 eggs. Each month, she releases one of them.

The more I think about it the less I seem to understand, like my brain is a tub of tofu past its expiration date.

She just showed up when she wanted to, and left when she felt like it – like a capricious, independent minded cat.

Knowledge and ability are tools, not things to show off.

In his desk drawer, he had a family photo of the four of them. Even the dog seemed to be grinning.

Blood had a frighteningly long memory. And the sign of that large head would, sometime, somewhere in the future, reappear, in an unexpected time and place.

Like Gregor Stamza when he turned into a beetle, he deftly stretched his rotund, misshapen body on the floor…

If she had seen him a little longer, she would have noticed that his large head wasn’t that of a child. It would have dawned on her that that dwarfish, huge headed person was none other than the man that Tamari had described.

To him, this was no longer a fictional world, where red blood bursts out when u slice your skin with a knife. And in the sky in this world, there were two moons, side by side.

Maybe he had always liked to sit on top of slides when he needed to think. Maybe the top of a slide in a park by night was the perfect place to think about the plot of the novel he was writing, or mathematical formulas. Maybe the darker it was, the colder the wind, the colder the wind blew, the shabbier the park, the better he could think. What or how novelists (or mathematicians) thought was way beyond anything Ushikawa could imagine.

To rephrase Tolstoy’s famous line, all happiness is alike, but each pain is painful in its own right.

‘Cold or not, God is present.’

It was the kind of expression Munch might have painted.

Tengo could hardly believe it – that in this frantic, labyrinth-like world – two people’s hearts – a boy’s and a girl’s – could be connected, unchanged, even though thry haven’t seen each other in twenty years.

Rating: 4.8/5

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