Tag Archives: Alfred Birnbaum

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum

Chapter 1: an ultra high-tech building with an especially remarkable elevator (although without the usual, mundane details like floor buttons), loose change that suddenly doesn’t add up, a beautiful (chubby) young woman in everything pink who might have said “Proust” (or maybe “Truest? … Brew whist? … Blue is it? …”), and a lozenge-shaped electronic key that opens the door to <728>. Oh, and I can’t forget the flustered, lip-reading, Danny Boy-whistling, especially-good-with-tricky numbers, nameless protagonist. Your usual Haruki Murakami fare, right?

Chapter 2 (italics totally intentional): beasts sporting long golden fur – “[g]olden in the purest sense of the word, with not the least intrusion of another hue,” the horn-blowing Gatekeeper who herds the magnificent animals out through the right door of the West Gate every night and allows them re-entry in the morning, the local people who climb the Watchtower for just one spring week to watch the animals, and the newly arrived stranger-in-a-strange-land who is as yet unfamiliar with the seasonal rhythms of this unnamed walled-in world. Again, your usual Murakami fare.

Confused yet? No worries … Murakami has his recognizable tropes to give you just enough comfort: the somewhat slacker protagonist who is never quite surprised enough about the inexplicable events of his not-so-regular life, the teenage sidekick whose relationship with said protagonist brushes up against inappropriate but remains ultimately off-limits, the predictable messengers who either knock on/walk through/break down the front door, bedside books mostly written by dead white men, and hidden portals in and to the strangest places.

But lest you think you can ever just complacently read from page to page, Murakami will, of course, rock your world with his usual unexpected adventures. Jumping from odd to even chapters, you’ll track down a rogue scientist who can remove sound, feed a reference librarian with an insatiable culinary appetite, avoid the destructive path of the dynamic Junior/Big Boy duo, read dreams from animal skulls, search for anachronistic instruments in a land whose inhabitants cannot comprehend music, escape the INKlings through sewers and subways … and, as always, more, more, and more.

All the indescribable, unfathomable twists and turns that keep you addicted to Murakami … it’s all here in the hard-boiled wonderland of impossible equations and hunted skulls, and there at the end of the world with impenetrable walls and missing shadows.

Readers: Adult

Published: 1991 (United States)

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Pinball, 1973 by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum

Haruki Murakami‘s lesser-known-in-the-West “Trilogy of the Rat” continues with the second prequel to his breakout international bestseller, A Wild Sheep Chase. Both Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973, were nominated for the prestigious Akutagawa Prize, considered by many to be Japan’s top literary honor, and yet neither book has ever had Stateside distribution. And yet how lucky both were translated (superbly, by one of Murakami’s two regular translators – the other is Jay Rubin) into English  … and in the age of easy access, Amazon delivers just about all!

Our unnamed narrator is settled in Tokyo, having established a translation business with an old friend (the same company which reappears in Sheep). He’s living with a pair of identical twin young women, who seem to have just appeared, who seem to have no past, no names, not to mention much in the way of basic clothing (they spend much of their waking time in matching sweatshirts marked “208″ and “209″). But they do make excellent coffee. The trio contentedly share the narrator’s small apartment (and yes, the same bed), don’t necessarily have the most scintillating conversations (“[t]he two of them were frightfully ignorant about things,” is hardly an understatement), but for a while, their co-existence works well for all.

Meanwhile, our narrator’s buddy, the Rat (“university-dropout-rich-kid”), has gotten himself involved with a woman, who he meets when he buys a used typewriter from her. Ironically –and sadly – their developing intimacy results in a growing sense of alienation from the world for the Rat. He continues to frequent J’s Bar, especially after hours, but even that longstanding relationship can’t keep the Rat tethered to his reality.

Back in Tokyo, our narrator goes on a pre-sheep wild chase, this time in search of an obscure pinball machine – “A three-flipper ‘Spaceship.’” He did give fair warning early on: “This is a novel about pinball.” Sort of. Not totally.

Old girlfriends, an early obsession with wells, the presence of cats … many of the recurring Murakami devices start lining up with welcome familiarity. Not surprisingly, Sheep and its sequel Dance Dance Dance, start to make a lot more sense. The word ‘delighted’ comes to mind to have discovered these compact prequels, as well as ‘thankful’ for pragmatically providing context and aesthetically offering a glimpse of literary history.

Tidbit: Truly the internet is a phenomenal thing … here’s a PDF that might be of considerable interest: click here. I wish I had found it sooner!!

Readers: Adult

Published: 1985 (English translation published in Japan)

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Hear the Wind Sing by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum

In spite of my decades-long obsession with Haruki Murakami, some part of my literary brain was clearly disconnected because not until I read his popular running memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, did I learn about his “Trilogy of the Rat,” which includes two prequels to his breakout international sensation, A Wild Sheep Chase. Those first two novels, Hear the Wind Sing (1979) and Pinball, 1973 (1980), were eventually translated into English, but the translations had only limited distribution from Japan’s publishing giant Kodansha. Thank goodness for Amazon’s far-flung vendors is all I can say!

I can’t help but mention size … both prequels are tiny: each measures just 4.25 x 6 inches. Wind has a mere 130 pages (with another 35 of highly detailed translation notes), and Pinball only 179 (also with another 35 pages of notes). In comparison, Murakami’s latest is nothing less than an enormous, heavy brick! The phenomenal 1Q84 has almost 1000 pages, with each page some three times the size as those of the prequels! My how the Murakami oeuvre has multiplied!

So this is where Murakami began his sensational career: “‘There’s no such thing as perfect writing …’” No lie – that’s the first line of his first novel. In translation anyway. His nameless protagonist (who narrates the trilogy, plus its sequel Dance Dance Dance) confesses a couple pages in, “For me, writing is extremely hard work.” Good thing he keeps at it!

“This story begins on August 8, 1970, and ends eighteen days later, on August 26 of the same year,” Murakami writes as his second chapter. Yup, just that one line for that whole chapter. Over those 18 days, not a whole lot happens, although immediately you just know you’ve entered Murakami territory. By the third page, he’s already made up an off-kilter character – writer Derek Heartfield, a “contemporary of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and that crowd,” who commits suicide by jumping off the Empire State Building clutching a portrait of Hitler in one hand, an umbrella in the other! – with such convincing finesse that you can’t help but look him up (he only exists in Murakami’s world).

But back to our young man during that August he is home during a summer break from his Tokyo university. He meets a young woman in a bar and goes home with her – although not for the most obvious reasons. He reminisces about his few past relationships, including a girlfriend who mysteriously committed suicide. He hangs out (often at J’s Bar) with his friend the Rat who’s becoming more and more withdrawn from the world, and is especially disdainful of rich people (of which he would be one). He quotes now and then from his fictional Heartfield, and actually ends the novel with said Heartfield, but not before he’s done a quick fast-forward into his future life (which will turn out to be a teasing preview into A Wild Sheep Chase).

Other glimmers of what will become signature Murakami surface – surprising music playlists, hearing voices, mysterious strangers, tenuous relationships with disappearing women – which makes for quite an enjoyable, albeit brief reading adventure. Is this great literature? Probably not, especially since Murakami goes on to write stupendous tomes in the decades that follow. Still, both prequels prove to be just grand fun as literary history … and give whole new meaning to ‘vintage Murakami’ for sure!

Readers: Adult

Published: 1987 (English translation published in Japan)

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Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum

Life just seems better with a Haruki Murakami story stuck in my ears … being aurally enticed into the fantabulous absurdity of Murakami’s imagined worlds provides a little instant escape from the sometimes same-old, same-old of my own reality! I do admit to a preference for the animated narrator Rupert Degas (who has thus far read me this, A Wild Sheep Chase, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, and select stories from The Elephant Vanishes), even if he does mispronounce far too many of the Japanese words and names … really, how hard can it be to make one phone call to a Japanese speaker and get a quickie pronunciation lesson? ACK! Don’t get me started!

Back to Dance-ing … and some quick housekeeping details here. Dance is the fourth book starring our (still-) unnamed protagonist. Even though Dance is considered the sequel to A Wild Sheep Chase, it’s not officially part of the ”Trilogy of the Rat” which includes two prequels (Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973) and Sheep. And yes, both Sheep and Dance work as standalone titles, although if you read Sheep first, you’re likely to enjoy Dance more. The jury is still out about the two prequels but I do possess those titles now and have every intention of reading, so stay tuned for future posts.

Picking up about four-and-a-half years after the events of Sheep, our Tokyo-based narrator is drawn back to the same Dolphin Hotel, convinced that his ex-girlfriend – she with the amazing ears who deserted him near the end of their Sapporo chase – is calling from another world for his help. When he arrives, he’s shocked to find a modern, overpriced luxury establishment rather than the ramshackle original. Making inquiries as to the former Dolphin and its owners leads our narrator on yet another Sheepman-chase, this time of magnified proportions that will take our odd-but-mostly good guy across the ocean to a Honolulu office filled with skeletons …

This time, his co-horts include a part-time aquatic hotel receptionist, a 13-year-old girl unexpectedly entrusted to his care, her incredibly neglectful parents – a world-famous genius photographer mother and a bestselling-though-talentless-novelist father who happens to have the name Hiraku Makimura (recognize those mixed-up letters? Murakami sure knows how to laugh at himself!), and a childhood friend who is now a major movie star.

Being on a Murakami binge, I’m having great fun noting some his favorite literary devices: tiny details as Seven Stars cigarettes, endless bottles of Cutty Sark, and toothsome plates of spaghetti, to his wackier penchant for cats, neglected teenage girls with extraordinary powers of perception, walking through walls, navigating pitch-black hallways, dry wells, and of course, the moon. Alas, the ending here didn’t quite do it for me (no spoilers), but that proves a minor detail, as any Murakami adventure is always an unforgettable, escapist, addictive wild ride!

Readers: Adult

Published: 1994 (United States)

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A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum

As most Haruki Murakami fans as well aware, the countdown to the pub date of his latest 1Q84 ends after this weekend … just a couple more days until you can crack open those almost-1000 pages!

Having had early access (not to brag, really!), I’ve been feeling SOOO nostalgic for more of Murakami that I started going back to his earlier titles … and landed back with his first major hit in English translation, the book that started it all. I can’t believe more than two decades have passed since I read this wild, Wild uniquely fantastical odyssey … and, not surprisingly, all those years makes for a very different reading indeed.

Bottom line: yes, it passes the test of time with great ease … sigh of relief and a yippee indeed.

A not-too-dedicated PR/advertising company co-owner has recently lost his wife to his best friend. He’s bored with his career, is a bit of a slacker, finds himself a new girlfriend who’s “nothing special” except when she bares her extraordinary ears. Said slacker gets embroiled in a mysterious hunt for an errant sheep somewhere far away and is given a month to hunt it down. His only clue is a certain photograph sent by a friend-in-hiding named ‘The Rat,’ who disappeared a few years ago although he sends strange missives with impossible-to-read postmarks. In the picture: mountains, 33 sheep, including one with a certain star … thus the chase begins …

Here’s something I didn’t know 20+ years ago … something I learned from Murakami’s running memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running: Wild is his third novel, and the last in a trio commonly referred to as “Trilogy of the Rat.” The previous two novels, Hear the Wind Sing (1979) and Pinball, 1973 (1980), were translated into English by the same Alfred Birnbaum here, but the translations had rather limited distribution from the Japanese publishing giant Kodansha (unlike Wild which had a major U.S. publisher). Having never read the prequels, I finally ordered both today from a used bookseller.

The “trilogy,” however, is a bit of a misnomer, as Murakami returns to familiar sheep territory in Dance Dance Dance which I also read so many years ago … but intend to re-read, newly re-addicted as I’ve become! So definitely stay tuned for more, more, more.

Readers: Adult

Published: 1989 (United States)

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The Elephant Vanishes: Stories by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum and Jay Rubin

No one has such an unpredictable, quirky, downright wacky imagination as Haruki Murakami. And even though your brain knows he’s created an impossible universe, everything on the page seems so convincing, you’ll go along for the ride – any ride with Murakami at the helm.

Even almost 20 years since its initial publication in English translation, Elephant surprises, teases, shocks, and, of course, entertains as if it’s brand new (re-reading Murakami is always highly recommended).

Of the collection’s 17 stories, my personal favorite has to be “The Second Bakery Attack,” which also happens to be the second story (of course). Suffering “unbearable hunger” in the middle of night, a man tells his wife of a youthful “bakery attack” he planned with his friends to stave off their incredible hunger back then; the bungled event turned into an impromptu concert, but the friends did get fed. Inspired, the wife decides the time is right for attack #2, but when they can’t find another bakery in the wee hours, they settle for a sleepy McDonald’s instead.

Among these diverse stories, some seem linked, tracking fragments from the life of a certain male “I” and his experiences – both mundanely domestic and fabulously surreal. One engaging recurrence of note is the name “Noboru Watanabe,” which appears in the first story, “The Wind-Up Bird and Tuesday’s Women,” as the name of a missing cat, then again in “Family Affair” as the disdained computer engineer fiancé-to-be of the man’s younger sister (who reminds the man of a hated former schoolmate who “had a memory like an elephant”), and – wait for it! – yet again in the title (and final) story as a 63-year-old elephant keeper who vanishes with his pachydermous charge …

A lovelorn little green man, a manipulative dancing dwarf, “reduced” TV People that no one else can see … in Murakami’s uninhibited, volatile, capricious world, anything can happen. And does. Check your rationality. And just come along for the wild ride …

Tidbit: The title story, “The Wind-Up Bird and Tuesday’s Women,” reappears a few years later as the first chapter of Murakami’s abridged-in-translation-just-for-word-count (!) novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle; the cat’s name morphs into Noboru Wataya and, yes, it’s still named after a character of the human variety …

Readers: Adult

Published: 1993 (United States)

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Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche by Haruki Murakami, translated by Alfred Birnbaum and Philip Gabriel

UndergroundThe unpredictable Murakami deftly forays into nonfiction with an eerily unput-downable compilation of eyewitness accounts of what happened on March 20, 1995 when members of a religious cult unleashed deadly sarin gas on a crowded rush-hour Tokyo subway train.

Review: “Works in Translation,” aMagazine: Inside Asian America, October/November 2001

Readers: Adult

Published: 2001 (United States)

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