Quote Porn
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
"That's reality for you: quick and efficient."
"Nothing so consumes a person as meaningless exertion."
"If people lived forever—if they never got any older—if they could just go on living in this world, never dying, always healthy—do you think they'd bother to think hard about things, the way we're doing now? I mean, we think about everything, more or less—philosophy, psychology, logic. Religion. Literature. I kinda think, if there were no such thing as death, that complicated thoughts and ideas like that would never come into the world."
Survivor
"The only difference between a suicide and a martyrdom really is the amount of press coverage."
(Sounds Familiar...)
(Sounds Familiar...)
"Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?"
"You have a choice. Live or die.
Every breath is a choice.
Every minute is a choice.
Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist."
A Few Thoughts
Today's match is the first to feature two books that I'd argue belong in the same wheelhouse as one another: pensive, pop-culture aware, laden with elements of pulp noir, and full of admirable and hard-hitting prose.
Kafkaesque (adj): A work that is reminiscent of Franz Kafka; often, detailing instances where bureaucracies overpower people in surreal and nightmarish settings that evoke senselessness and helplessness. There. One of the more pretentious additions to the English dictionary defined in rather simple terms... and I do so because The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle literally inspired me to go and read some of Kafka's actual short stories so I could get it. It's impossible to pick the bones out of some of the dream sequences, and the influence of Noburu Wataya (the talking head, not the cat) adds a bureaucratic, faceless authority that's implied by calling it Kafkaesque.
I mean this as a compliment.
Often, dream sequences can play as a deus ex machina mechanic in a narrative such that the author can write whatever situation they feel like writing without challenging the sensibility of their readers. However, it feels like Murakami embraces the style as a way to add intrigue and body to his work rather than an excuse to add symbolism and shenanigans. In this case: with no dreams, there'd be no book.
After reading, I had thoughts at length that the whole story was a fiction written by one of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle's characters, supported fully by various passages in the text both inside and outside of the dream sequences; sort of a meta-frame tale. I never settled on a final interpretation, but the fact that it was a sensible theory was appealing to me: some books are satisfying because they end in a very black and white fashion, and the way this one ended left open questions while still providing that satisfaction regardless of their answers. This duality is rare.
That said, Murakami's books always leave me in an odd paradox: I get totally wrapped up in the happenings and don't want them to end, and then when the book peters to a non-ending, I'm sad that I can't think my way through (&/or that nobody will spoon-feed me) a definitive theme, let alone a concrete conclusion. Wind-Up Bird Chronicle was especially guilty of this; I enjoyed the ride and felt the standard book-conclusion satisfaction, but I don't know what I was supposed to gain from it. I'm not calling it pointless, but I fear that I missed the boat.
Survivor was perhaps the first book I ever read that didn't have a cut-and-dried ending. A neat device that Palahniuk uses is that the book begins on page 289, and rather than page numbers counting up to the conclusion, it counts down to one. When you finally hit p1, the story literally ends in mid-sentence. As someone who, at the time of my initial reading, was more a fan of sci-fi/fantasy with categorical endings, the fact that some things were left up in the air (pun so, so intended) was a little unsettling for me. Thankfully, Palahniuk himself actually explains the ending on his website, so the resolution and meaning I sought was available (if unsatisfactory at first blush).
Note that the page countdown isn't the only novel convention in this unconventional novel. I talked in my first blog about Diary and its storytelling delivery in diary form—similarly, Survivor is delivered in the mode of a first-person story dictated from Tender Branson into an airplane's black box. It also has a number of plot highlights that aren't often dealt with: the Super Bowl, cults and daytime TV are all things that aren't written about all that often in fiction (or, at least, in books that I've read).
While Fight Club will probably be Palahniuk's legacy, I sort of lament that a film hasn't been made of Survivor. Its oddities and plot devices feel fresher to me, and although the story's contents aren't as suspenseful as many thriller novels, its form and conventions make it feel like a ticking time-bomb towards its ending. It's a damn hard book to put down, and I feel like a cinematic experience would be an edge-of-seat affair.
Kafkaesque (adj): A work that is reminiscent of Franz Kafka; often, detailing instances where bureaucracies overpower people in surreal and nightmarish settings that evoke senselessness and helplessness. There. One of the more pretentious additions to the English dictionary defined in rather simple terms... and I do so because The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle literally inspired me to go and read some of Kafka's actual short stories so I could get it. It's impossible to pick the bones out of some of the dream sequences, and the influence of Noburu Wataya (the talking head, not the cat) adds a bureaucratic, faceless authority that's implied by calling it Kafkaesque.
I mean this as a compliment.
Often, dream sequences can play as a deus ex machina mechanic in a narrative such that the author can write whatever situation they feel like writing without challenging the sensibility of their readers. However, it feels like Murakami embraces the style as a way to add intrigue and body to his work rather than an excuse to add symbolism and shenanigans. In this case: with no dreams, there'd be no book.
After reading, I had thoughts at length that the whole story was a fiction written by one of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle's characters, supported fully by various passages in the text both inside and outside of the dream sequences; sort of a meta-frame tale. I never settled on a final interpretation, but the fact that it was a sensible theory was appealing to me: some books are satisfying because they end in a very black and white fashion, and the way this one ended left open questions while still providing that satisfaction regardless of their answers. This duality is rare.
That said, Murakami's books always leave me in an odd paradox: I get totally wrapped up in the happenings and don't want them to end, and then when the book peters to a non-ending, I'm sad that I can't think my way through (&/or that nobody will spoon-feed me) a definitive theme, let alone a concrete conclusion. Wind-Up Bird Chronicle was especially guilty of this; I enjoyed the ride and felt the standard book-conclusion satisfaction, but I don't know what I was supposed to gain from it. I'm not calling it pointless, but I fear that I missed the boat.
Survivor was perhaps the first book I ever read that didn't have a cut-and-dried ending. A neat device that Palahniuk uses is that the book begins on page 289, and rather than page numbers counting up to the conclusion, it counts down to one. When you finally hit p1, the story literally ends in mid-sentence. As someone who, at the time of my initial reading, was more a fan of sci-fi/fantasy with categorical endings, the fact that some things were left up in the air (pun so, so intended) was a little unsettling for me. Thankfully, Palahniuk himself actually explains the ending on his website, so the resolution and meaning I sought was available (if unsatisfactory at first blush).
Note that the page countdown isn't the only novel convention in this unconventional novel. I talked in my first blog about Diary and its storytelling delivery in diary form—similarly, Survivor is delivered in the mode of a first-person story dictated from Tender Branson into an airplane's black box. It also has a number of plot highlights that aren't often dealt with: the Super Bowl, cults and daytime TV are all things that aren't written about all that often in fiction (or, at least, in books that I've read).
While Fight Club will probably be Palahniuk's legacy, I sort of lament that a film hasn't been made of Survivor. Its oddities and plot devices feel fresher to me, and although the story's contents aren't as suspenseful as many thriller novels, its form and conventions make it feel like a ticking time-bomb towards its ending. It's a damn hard book to put down, and I feel like a cinematic experience would be an edge-of-seat affair.
Head-to-Head
Characters: Tender Branson alone is a multifaceted juggernaut, but the combined strengths of Toru Okada, Noburu Wataya (he's so fun to hate), old Mr. Honda and May Kasahara make WUBC hard to beat.
Advantage: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.
Plot: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is probably twistier, but also less cohesive. If Murakami had an equivalent answer to Palahniuk's brief clarification, it might make the whole plot better. But...
Advantage: Survivor, because (and I quote) "two machines whining to each other" is a pretty awesome getaway cover. Like, up there with Roald Dahl's Lamb To The Slaughter in the "perfect crime" category.
Ending: Kinda covered this in plot. Palahniuk's explanation pushes an already-probably-win even higher.
Advantage: Survivor.
Language/Writing: I should perhaps give WUBC a handicap for so competently surviving translation, but Palahniuk's writing has a certain appeal that's on display in Survivor more than any of his other books that I've read.
Advantage: Survivor.
Philosophy: They're very different in this respect. Survivor holds up a literary mirror to many modern day ideals and priorities, but Wind-Up Bird Chronicle has a ton of reflection on WWII-era Japan, the nature of suffering, and the inherent power of meditation (by my read, anyway).
Advantage: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, though it's closer than the above description may make it seem.
Ending: Kinda covered this in plot. Palahniuk's explanation pushes an already-probably-win even higher.
Advantage: Survivor.
Language/Writing: I should perhaps give WUBC a handicap for so competently surviving translation, but Palahniuk's writing has a certain appeal that's on display in Survivor more than any of his other books that I've read.
Advantage: Survivor.
Philosophy: They're very different in this respect. Survivor holds up a literary mirror to many modern day ideals and priorities, but Wind-Up Bird Chronicle has a ton of reflection on WWII-era Japan, the nature of suffering, and the inherent power of meditation (by my read, anyway).
Advantage: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, though it's closer than the above description may make it seem.
Winner Winner Turkey Supper
I'm a little sad that all of Murakami's bracket draws have him against a juggernaut of my favourite books within the first round or two. I don't think his works would be as effective in general if their endings were a little more concrete, but they might appeal to me more that way.
Getting ahead of myself, though.
Getting ahead of myself, though.
Survivor makes it through to the second round.
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