Casual brilliance
A new novel by Haruki Murakami is always an event, even if the author does his best to downplay it, writes Chad Taylor.
Tsukuru Tazaki is an engineer who designs railroad stations. Professionally concerned with ensuring the flow of commuter traffic, he has been personally devastated by the passing of relationships in his formative years. While growing up in Nagoya, he and four other high school students became as close as platonic friends could be. Aka (‘‘re’’), Ao (‘‘blue’’), Shiro (‘‘white’’) and Kuro (‘‘black’’) and Tazaki (‘‘the only last name that did not have colour in its meaning’’) the four lived in each others’ pockets until the day when they expelled Tsukuru from the group. ‘‘They gave no explanation, not a word, for this harsh pronouncement. And Tsukuru didn’t dare ask.’’ Banished to Tokyo, Tsukuru falls into depression before, as per his aptronym (‘‘Tsukuru’’ is written with the Chinese character that means ‘‘make’’ or ‘‘build’’) he sets about rebuilding his life. After a series of unfulfilling relationships he meets Sara, who prompts him to confront the mystery he has been trying to avoid: why did his friends reject him?
The premise of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaji and His Years of Pilgrimage is as clear as is prose. The novel was translated by Philip Gabriel, who also worked on South of the Border, West of the Sun. Any effect that he or fellow translators Jay Rubin and Alfred Birnbaum has on Murukami’s prose is a larger discussion: it’s my impression that Gabriel smooths things out but the author’s frankness still startles. Tsukuru can’t picture Shiro ‘‘sticking her hand up the anus of a horse’’; later, ‘‘These insistent caresses continued until Tsukuru was inside the vagina of one of the