Winding Up, Yet Again

Haruki Murakami is a rare breed of writer: each of his novels perches precariously on the edge of complete seriousness and complete silliness, and in this middle zone reveals his casually alluring, tragically compelling fiction.

Unfortunately, with the publication of his latest novel, "Kafka on the Shore," this thin line will be the dividing point between Murakami's buffs and his cynics.

"Kafka on the Shore" has quickly drawn comparisons to Murakami's earlier "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle," and indeed, everything that pleased readers in the first is contained within the second. Employing a two-pronged narrative style used in several of his previous novels, "Kafka" follows the exploits of 15-year-old Kafka Tamura and the endearing old simpleton Nakata.

Kafka has run away from home in search of self, and also to escape (or fulfill?) the Oedipal prophecy of his father-"Someday you will murder your father and be with your mother." Nakata is a doddering, dear old man, mentally handicapped and living off government subsidiaries.

Able to speak to cats but not to read, Nakata makes money in his spare time by finding and returning lost house cats to their families.

But when one missing cat case goes awry, the balance of Nakata's life is unhinged when he encounters cat-killer Johnnie Walker. Meanwhile, as Kafka pursues relations with the enigmatic (and 50-year-old) Miss Saeki, the intertwining paths of Kafka and Nakata's destinies slowly unfurl.

Murakami revisits many familiar themes in "Kafka." References to pop culture abound-Kafka's own playlist would include Radiohead, the Beatles, and Stan Getz.

Murakami's narrative is characteristically preoccupied with the individual divided from itself, and indeed "Kafka"s characters suffer an endless division of self.

But at the core of the novel, Murakami writes movingly about love, longing, and loss, using characters so unassuming it's impossible not to empathize. If Murakami has written to satisfy his cultish fan base, pleased they will be.

But for those who remain skeptical, "Kafka" is a bit much to swallow. Readers who want to know if Miss Saeki is truly Kafka's mother will be aggravated by Murakami's dialogue: "Are you my mother?" "You already know the answer to that." Readers who don't buy the subconscious as cause enough to rape will question when Kafka decides to enter his could-be sister.

Also, readers unfamiliar with modern Japanese literature will have a hard time swallowing the novel's rampant paranormal happenings-leeches falling from the sky, talking cats, and entrance stones to other realms included.

Murakami manages the potentially explosive controversial content of the novel by packaging it with decidedly low-key characters. Readers hoping for a positive experience would do well to allow Murakami some additional artistic license. But for those less generous to the author, "Kafka" will remain slightly confusing and ridiculous.

Imbued with a self-consciousness that hinders the delivery of its narrative, the novel also suggests that perhaps Murakami himself has become too aware of his celebrity.

Philip Gabriel's sensitive and faithful translation reflects all these elements-his translation will bide well with American audiences. Although some may be offended at Gabriel's suggestion that American readers are too boorish to accept the yen as the currency of Japan-all characters pay with "bucks."

In the end, "Kafka" amounts to an entertaining, if not perplexing predicament of a novel: the novel ties some of its ends too neatly to merit peerless artistry, and at the same time leaves too many loose ends to be wholly satisfying. But for those already seduced by Murakami's style, "Kafka on the Shore" will be ample reward for the wait.

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