Murakami’s writing is what makes this collage of stories
work together. His prose uses precise language to describe mundane and
ambiguous things, while underpinning it all with a subtle sense of menace like
a David Lynch film. He’s precise where he needs to be, as when he explains how his
wife’s brother was successful in politics: "consistency and an established
worldview were excess baggage in the intellectual mobile warfare that flared up
in the mass media's tiny time segments." But along with this clear prose
comes many fantastical and bizarre elements, such as a scar that appears on Toru’s
cheek one day – the same mark that appears on the faces of the protagonists of
several other stories. What does it mean? Murakami never directly explains, and
while some might be annoyed by that, others like myself can simply go along for
the ride, for The Wind-up Bird Chronicle never fails to entertain.
In fact, the first two-thirds of the book are so good I
literally couldn't put it down – and this was my second time reading it! However,
the book as a whole loses steam in the final third of the book, mainly because the
stories that were so cohesive earlier on start to become less connected. I’d
argue that by that point you’ve built up such a head of steam that the coast to
the end is still great reading. And parts of the ending are absolutely riveting,
like when Toru finally gets into the mysterious hotel room, but other stories read
like Murakami was just trying to tie up loose threads. At one point, Toru even
says: "I think you are [my wife]. Because then all kinds of story lines
work out," as if he's admitting that he doesn't know how to complete the
complex pattern he’s been weaving. But while the ending might be a bit anticlimactic,
at the end of the day The Wind-up Bird Chronicle is easily one of the best books
I’ve ever read.
Cross-posted on Reading, Running and Red Sox.
