Kafka on the Shore

“I’m the lonely voyager standing on deck, and she’s the sea. The sky is a blanket of gray, merging with the gray sea off on the horizon. It’s hard to tell the difference between the sea and sky. Between voyager and the sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart”

Here Kafka rides on the bus to Takamatsu with Sakura’s sleeping head resting on his shoulder. His thoughts here symbolize and foreshadow his entire journey: he’s on a quest to understand his reality and the workings of his heart. Right now both reality and his heart are confused and difficult to make out. By equating Sakura with the sea, he indicates that she is a mysterious entity to him, but also tied to him in an as yet unexplored and unknown way. She is part of his journey; a voyager cannot travel on a boat without the sea.

“‘Even chance meetings’. . . .’Are the result of karma’. . . .’[T]hings in life are fated by our previous lives... [E]ven in the smallest events there’s no such thing as coincidence’”

As he parts with Sakura at the bus station in Takamatsu, they both share the feeling that their meeting was meant to be. This quotation exemplifies the idea that fate is in charge of Kafka’s destiny, even as he tries to run away from it.

“‘According to Aristophanes in Plato's Symposium, in the ancient world of myth there were three types of people. . . .In ancient times people weren't just male or female, but one of three types: male/male, male/female or female/female. In other words, each person was made out of the components of two people. Everyone was happy with this arrangement and never really gave it much thought. But then God took a knife and cut everyone in half, right down the middle. So after that the world was divided just into male and female, the upshot being that people spend their time running around trying to locate their missing half’”

Oshima share this theory with Kafka on his first day in the library. Oshima immediately senses Kafka’s loneliness and isolation, and he wants him to know that it’s normal and human to seek out like-minded companions, friends, and lovers. Of course, he is specifically talking about how many people are desperate to meet a mate to complete them, but, as with all of Oshima’s pronouncements and philosophical theorizing, there are several layers of meaning. This quotation is also significant because it is a thread in the ancient Greek philosophical tapestry that is woven throughout the novel.

"‘What I think is this: you should give up looking for lost cats and start searching for the other half of your shadow.’

Nakata tugged a few times at the bill of his hat in his hands. ‘To tell the truth, Nakata's had that feeling before. That my shadow is weak. Other people might not notice, but I do’" 

The cat, Otsuka, notices Nakata’s shadow and gives him some wise advice. Without being conscious of it, Nakata does embark on a search for the other half of his shadow. By following his intuition, and righting a great wrong, he can be reunited with the rest of himself, long ago left behind in another world.

“Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past, like ancient stars that have burned out, and no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about every day, too many new things we have to learn...But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.”

Nakata’s teacher writes a letter about the Rice Bowl Hill Incident and some of what she knows about Nakata. She is compelled to write to the psychiatrist who examined Nakata as a child, because she cannot forget what happened that day or her role in events. These memories stay with her, ever present. The theme of the persistence of memory and its ability to bring the past to life in the present is significant here. This quotation explains this central theme in the novel. Memory triumphs over time, whether for good or bad, because it persists and endures despite time’s efforts to make it insignificant.

“‘[A] certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect’” 

Here, Oshima is talking specifically about Shubert’s piano Sonata in D Major, but of course he is making a larger point about life. If a human being reaches for anything great or tries to create something that requires a serious effort, the accumulation of his imperfect attempts eventually develops into something perfect and complete.

“It’s all a question of imagination. Our responsibility begins with the power to imagine. It’s just like Yeats said: In dreams begin responsibilities. Flip this around and you could say that where there’s no power to imagine, no responsibility can arise”

A central idea that takes hold of Kafka is that he is responsible for what he dreams. He fears that, because in his imagination and dreams he has killed his father, somehow, no matter who actually killed him, his father’s blood is on his hands. This belief is reinforced by the fact that Kafka wakes up covered in blood on the night his father was murdered. This belief in the power of dreams is carried throughout the novel for Kafka, and eventually his dreams do become reality.

This quotation comes from Oshima’s comment written in a book about Adolf Eichmann’s trial, where Eichmann demonstrates no shred of remorse or responsibility for his evil actions. The evil try to evade responsibility by not having, or not acknowledging, the ability to envision the consequences of their actions. Though he never realizes it, Kafka cannot be evil, because he is all too ready to embrace and acknowledge the consequences of his actions, and he has too much imagination for his own good. Only the evil deny and deflect responsibility.

“Not just beautiful, though--the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me”

Kafka’s first visit to the mountain cabin is a revelation for this city-born-and-raised child. Encountering trees in the forest and the stars for the first time, he experiences them as alive, beautiful, and magical. Kafka develops a healthy respect, even reverence, for the power of nature.

“You’re afraid of imagination. And even more afraid of dreams. Afraid of the responsibility that begins in dreams. But you have to sleep, and dreams are a part of sleep. When you’re awake you can suppress imagination. But you can’t suppress dreams”

The boy named Crow is talking to Kafka here, clearly explaining that dreams are a direct expression of the imagination, and even though Kafka may control and discount his imaginings while he is awake, he cannot so easily dismiss or direct his dreams. The direct correlation between imagination and dreams lies at the heart of Kafka’s magical ability, later in the novel, to act through his dreams in the real world. What Kafka imagines becomes real through his dreams.

“‘In everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive’”

Oshima explains his theory about definitive turning points, or crossroads, in life. Miss Saeki’s point of no return was her lover’s death. She cannot move beyond it, and there is no way for her to change it. She must just accept it and simply live on until the end of her life, static.

“‘[W]hat disgusts me…are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S. Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they’re doing. . . .Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe”

Oshima explains that he couldn’t remain calm when the feminists accuse him of being a misogynist, because they represent a kind of thinking that he cannot tolerate. Their brand of limited thinking becomes justification for cruelty to others, in service to the theoretical cause; he reminds Kafka that those are the kinds of people who killed Miss Saeki’s sweetheart. Those are the kinds of people who sacrifice others to preserve their empty ideals.

“‘It’s not just that I’m dumb. Nakata’s empty inside. I finally understand that. Nakata’s like a library without a single book. It wasn’t always like that. I used to have books inside me. For a long time I couldn’t remember, but now I can’” 

Nakata’s contact with the entrance stone seems to bring him self-awareness. He always knew he was different from other people, but he didn’t know exactly how he was different. He assumed he was dumb, because that’s what other people told him his problem was. Now he has gained enough self-awareness to know what he has lost. But his self-awareness also gives him the ability, for the first time in his life to want something—he now remembers that he used to be different. His weak, or half, shadow has a meaning.

“‘The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory’”

This quotation is from Henri Bergson’s book Matter and Memory. The philosophy-quoting prostitute says this to Hoshino. As a clarification of Murakami’s memory theme, the quote explains that a present moment cannot be processed by the brain quickly enough for any sensation or experience to truly be in the “present.” Any experience is already a memory by the time you feel it. Therefore, every experience is a memory. The present is a fleeting, fragile concept that does not exist, except in the context of the past and future. Memory is ever-present and more durable than time.

“‘I’d like to be a normal Nakata. Up until now there was never anything in particular I wanted to do. I always did what people told me as best I could. Maybe that just became a habit. But now I want to go back to being normal. I want to be a Nakata with his own ideas, his own meaning’”

Here, Nakata defines what having a sense of individual identity means for him. Nakata is a man who has had his identity stolen: he has no intellect or reason, no thoughts or memory; he has no individuality. His personality is made up of small habits, routine, and likes and dislikes, but no bigger ideas or concepts. He does not even understand the passable of time, so he cannot appreciate or remember particular events, whether happy or sad. Being in contact with the entrance stone awakens something within Nakata that helps him realize what he has lost.

“There’s another world that parallels our own, and to a certain degree you’re able to step into that other world and come back safely. As long as you’re careful. But go past a certain point and you’ll lose the path out. It’s a labyrinth. . . .Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside”

Oshima warns Kafka to be careful in the forest, because it’s a labyrinth. As usual, Oshima offers wise counsel and an excellent metaphysical definition for Kafka to pick up, think about, and use in his own life. Entering the dangerous labyrinth is exactly what Kafka must do. Kafka must travel to the heart of the forest, the heart of the labyrinth—both labyrinths—internal and external. Kafka’s journey to the heart of the forest is a journey to the center of his own heart. The forest and the obstacles he faces mirror his internal struggle.

“You killed the person who’s your father, violated your mother, and now your sister. You thought that would put an end to the curse your father laid on you, so you did everything that was prophesied about you. But nothing’s really over. You didn’t overcome anything. That curse is branded on your soul even deeper than before. You should realize that by now. That curse is part of your DNA. You breathe out the curse, the wind carries it to the four corners of the Earth, but the dark confusion inside you remains. Your fear, anger, unease – nothing’s disappeared. They’re all still inside you, still torturing you”

The boy called Crow calls out Kafka’s failure as they walk deeper into the forest, on Kafka’s journey to explore the labyrinth. Kafka’s attempt to get rid of the curse by fulfilling the prophecy does not put an end to his suffering or his problems. In fact, now he has the additional guilt of having acted in a way contrary to his nature. Crow adds to Kafka’s burden by confirming that Kafka has killed his father, even though this is not factually true. Kafka’s suffering is acute and seemingly has no resolution. 

“‘Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart’” 

Miss Saeki tries to explain what memories are to Nakata. She has a fraught relationship with memory. Stuck in the past and unable to live once she loses her great love at age 20; she merely exists in the present. The past contains both her only joy and her greatest pain. Everything that is important to her is a memory. 

“‘Nakata’s just like a cat’”

Nakata explains to Miss Saeki what it is like for him to have no memories, no real concept of the passage of time, and no expectations for the present or future. Without the experience of time passing, or being able to remember what has happened, a person cannot reflect upon his experiences or enjoyment, knowledge or growth. He lives like an animal; a happy animal, perhaps, but without those essential human qualities. For some of the strengths of being human lie in the capacity for joy, growth through self-knowledge and experience, and gaining understanding of the world, the self, and even just accumulating knowledge for its intrinsic value. Nakata has been robbed of his humanity in many ways by his accident.  

“[A]fter a while I take leave of myself. My soul sloughs off the stiff clothes of the self and turns into a black crow that sits there on a branch high up in a pine tree in the garden, gazing down at the four-year-old boy on the porch. I turn into a theorizing black crow” 

Here Kafka describes the boy named Crow is born. To deal with the pain of his abandonment by his mother, he creates a stronger, more powerful and articulate protector to help him. Throughout the novel, Crow appears to give Kafka guidance, whether about what words to say to people or about how to deal with a crisis, such as not knowing whether he has traveled through a dream world as a living spirit to kill his father.

“‘Even though she loved you, she had to abandon you. You need to understand how she felt then, and lean to accept it. Understand the overpowering fear and anger she experienced, and feel it as your own—so you won’t inherit it and repeat it. The main thing is this: You have to forgive her. That’s not going to be easy, I know, but you have to do it. That’s the only way you can be saved. There’s no other way!’” 

The boy named Crow explains to Kafka that he needs to save himself and heal so that he can live in peace and freedom. The rage and anger that caused him to embrace the prophecy, sleep with his mother, believe that he was capable of killing his father, and—in a dream—rape his sister, originates from this abandonment. That essential wound must be healed for Kafka to grow and move forward with his life.

“‘A long time ago I abandoned someone I shouldn’t have,’ she says. ‘Someone I loved more than anything else. I was afraid someday I’d lose this person. So I had to let go myself. If he was going to be stolen away from me, or I was going to lose him by accident, I decided it was better to discard him myself. . . .But the whole thing was a huge mistake. It was someone I should never have abandoned’”

Miss Saeki comes to the other world cabin to visit Kafka and ask his forgiveness. Here she explains what led her to abandon him when she left his father. Just as her selfishness and fear caused her to open the entrance stone when she was nineteen years old—an act with horrific consequences—her selfishness and fear cause her to abandon her son many years later. The consequences of her abandonment are equally horrific for Kafka. 

“‘Miss Saeki, if I really do have the right to, then yes—I do forgive you’ I tell her. Mother, you say, I forgive you. And with those words, audibly the frozen part of your heart crumbles”

Miss Saeki, Kafka’s mother, has just asked for his forgiveness. Both Kafka and the boy named Crow speak here, because Crow was created in the moment of Kafka’s realization of his abandonment. Both parts of Kafka have to forgive Miss Saeki in order to heal. Crow told Kafka that forgiveness was his path out of the curse on their hike in the woods to the other world. From this moment, though Crow speaks again, his words appear in normal print, not in bold, as a sign that he is re-integrated with Kafka. Kafka still talks to him and experiences him, but he’s not a separate entity to Kafka anymore, just another inner voice. 

“‘Everyone is losing something precious to us…Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads—at least that's where I imagine it—there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library’” 

A library operates as a metaphor for memory here; specifically, Oshima is hinting that the Komura Memorial Library can act as the place where Kafka imagines his memories are stored inside his head. Through our memories, he is saying, we can reflect upon our experiences, grow, and understand ourselves better and more deeply.