It’s my first time read a novel by Haruki Murakami. I’m a kind of human who magically interested in some works of Japanese writers though countless time I felt annoyed after read their books—because there’s no such happy ending inside their minds, maybe, or the essence of an art is basically another way to express a sadness, I don’t know. They create some manuscripts with a promising beginning and unanswerable ending yet I find it beautiful and unique. So… here I am. Trying to make a review about a beautiful one from Murakami sensei.
What I found interesting while holding this book are the title and the blurb. It’s all about colors. Murakami sensei created some characters’ name based on colors. I thought there would be some colors resemblance personalities but I was wrong. There’re just names while the personalities based on blood type—I guessed. But it doesn’t matter. I’m familiar enough with Japanese colors and enjoyed the story at all.
First thing came to my mind while reading this book is… what a beautiful writing. Sometimes I write fiction—just some cheap ideas about romance and the bullshits and write it in Bahasa. It’s my dream to create a story in English though I ever made it (a fanfic) in order to win a K-Pop Boyband’s CD, but I wasn’t pleased for the result (yes, of course, obviously I wasn’t the winner). And my own words didn’t satisfy me. Writing is a kind of magic thing to do. It can be difficult but it also can be super easy in random times. I still learn to write a proper one and not brave enough to let other people read it.
So, when I read this novel, I was amazed. And still amaze until now. Murakami sensei (or I can say his translator—Philip Gabriel) wrote the story in an easy language. It isn’t hard to understand the paragraphs though it has some alien vocabularies but I can understand it with little difficulties. I began to know the plots and had to feed my curiosity for the main core of the whole story. I began to love the way Murakami sensei descripted main character’s mind, Tsukuru—how he acts, how he thinks, how he does his daily activities, what makes him sad, what makes him wants to die, how he sees the world, how he thinks about his world, how he appreciates his friends. I think Japanese people must be uneasy creatures of this world because they always think everything, even for unimportant matters. Then I started to compare Japanese and Indonesians for the way they think. Soooooo different. Sometimes I find it cool to think deeply about life—surrounding things, but thinking too much is sucks. Why not enjoying our lives instead of emotionally drained by things?
Yeah, this book is a book-that-asks-you-to-ask-everything. Realizing some parts, aspects, of your life.
Don’t forget the quotes! They are also a bomb! Murakami sensei wrote this as a definition of a friendship that Tsukuru was one of the members:
A unique sense of harmony developed between them – each one needed the other four and, in turn, shared the sense that they too were needed. The whole convergence was like a lucky but entirely accidental chemical fusion, something that could only happen once. You might gather the same materials and make identical preparations, but you would never be able to duplicate the result.
Or this one :
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But as an athlete, you have to learn how to be a good loser.
Or this famous one :
You can hide memories, suppress them, but you can’t erase the history that produced them.
Like other writings from Japanese I ever read, the conflict between the characters wasn’t too bad, but for the person itself, sensei wrote so hard to emphasize the problems. Maybe I can say the story is a bit ngalor-ngidul, or maybe I’m not smart enough to interpret some symbolic things, some points about dreams and another moments one character talked about, but still it is a masterpiece… until I found the ending. I will not tell the ending but it disappointed me! Some plots don’t have resolutions. Some parts were left unanswerable. I even don’t know what happen next for Tsukuru. There’s a time I mumbled myself : is he dead? Because that’s the ending, which also a blur.
What about the emotional thing? Don’t worry. Sensei wrote prettily good and flawless. I seldom got teary eyed while reading books but this one successfully gave me a chance. Those are simple words but precisely struck my emotional part.
I think this book still can be categorized as a good one. Murakami sensei must be an artist with rich and brilliant mind. He wrote about music too—which I don’t understand (lol!). Old but gold, young but not that bold, I think this is the best words for Murakami and this Tsukuru Tazaki story.
Last quote :
Our lives are like a complex musical score. Filled with all sorts of cryptic writing, sixteenth and thirty-second notes and other strange signs. It’s next to impossible to correctly interpret these, and even if you could, and then could transpose them into the correct sounds, there’s no guarantee that people would correctly understand, or appreciate, the meaning therein. No guarantee it would make people happy. Why must the workings of people’s live be so convoluted?