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By the mid 2000s I had read every Murakami Haruki book that had been translated into English. I was living in Beijing, The Olympics were looming and I was reading ‘Kafka on The Shore’ and thinking when I am done with this, I am done with Murakami. Every character, plot, sub-plot is the same from book to book. The same collection of eccentric, uptight, pre-pubescent, challenged, hopeless individuals inhabiting dark, surreal, alternate yet strangely familiar environments. Last year a dear friend in Bangkok (with more than a passing resemblance to many of Murakami’s protagonists) recommended ‘Killing Commendatore’. My friend’s book recommendations have always been spot on so I relented and ordered a copy. Not much has changed. Every character, plot, sub-plot is the same as I remember. The familiar collection of eccentric, uptight, pre-pubescent, challenged, hopeless individuals inhabiting dark, surreal, alternate yet such familiar environments are still on the loose. There is even a well that people go down into to look up at the moon from (I recall reading that a couple of decades ago in Greece in a completely different book). Yet so much as has changed in these near 20 years. I now live in Japan and every place name has a completely different significance to me. Or should I say is significant to me; whereas before they were merely words on paper. I have found out that Murakami actually lives quite close to me and we seem to inhabit very similar worlds. Somewhat disconcertingly when he now writes about a mountain road, cafe or village, chances are I now know it. This made me think about how, when we communicate — if we can do so in a way those we are communicating with can relate closely to the ideas we want to express. If they can find meaning or familiarity with the words we are conveying; their experience will become so much richer and more vivid. Our ideas can then come to life through the communication.
Whether we use metaphor, analogy, story-telling techniques or tailor
our vocabulary to appeal to the listener; for maximum engagement,
we should always endeavour to communicate in terms that people find meaningful and relatable. It also made me realise that repetition is not always a bad thing. If a formula works why not reuse it? If a particular motif or character type gets your point across perfectly then exploit that motif or type — it will make sure the message resonates.
The story is, of course, very atmospheric and more than a little creepy
(I have always admired Murakami’s ability to summon a dark, menacing atmosphere) and I have found the perfect soundtrack in Robert Turman’s ‘Flux’.
First recorded on C60 tape and released in 1981, ‘flux’ was recently
re-released and is hailed as one of the greatest ambient music recordings of all time. Turman uses kalimba and xylophone along with beautiful, delicate piano, tape loops and drum machine to create something sombre, melancholy and achingly beautiful.
Amazing that it survived to today given that Turman remembers originally less than 50 tape copies ever being made. It is sublimely minimal and ambient but veers off occasionally into
what, somewhat exotically, almost sounds like gamelan. You can hear it here.
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