Thursday, May 30, 2013

Review: "Colorless Tsukuru Tasaki and His Years of Pilgrimage" by Haruki Murakami

The growing popularity of Haruki Murakami, Japan’s most famous, and some would say greatest, living writer, was confirmed last month with the publishing of his latest novel. “Colorless Tsukuru Tasaki and His Years of Pilgrimage” is a somewhat less ambitious and significantly shorter work than his previous effort, “1Q84,” but that didn’t stop it from shattering sales records here in Japan, as it shifted over 1 million copies within just one week of hitting the shelves. So great was the expectation for Murakami’s first novel in four years that a number of bookstores opened their doors especially at midnight on the day of release, to oblige desperate fans unable to wait another minute to start reading. While I’m a huge admirer of the author myself, I was patient enough to wait until the following morning to get my hands on a copy. Now, a few weeks later, having reached the end of my own little pilgrimage through the book’s pages, I’m ready to share my thoughts.



Without giving too much away, the story follows Tsukuru, a quiet, unassuming guy in his mid-thirties (like pretty much every other Murakami protagonist!), who in this case designs train stations for a living in Tokyo. While fairly happy in his job, he has trouble forming meaningful relationships, all because of a traumatic experience from his student days when, suddenly and without explanation, his four closest high school friends cut off all contact with him. Tsukuru is referred to as “colorless” because he was the only one of the group not to feature a color in his surname, and the “pilgrimage” of the title basically involves him setting out to meet these four friends again, sixteen years after the ties between them were cut. By discovering the reason behind this puzzling rejection, he hopes to be able to put his mind at rest and move on with his life.

Reading “Colorless Tsukuru…” on the back of “1Q84” – a typically sprawling and surreal Murakami tale featuring parallel dimensions, shady religious cults, a town of cats and kids in cocoons – the thing that struck me most a few chapters in was how comparatively normal it was. It reminded me a lot of Murakami’s breakthrough novel “Norwegian Wood,” a story that is similarly rooted in the real world and follows a main character scarred by his relationship experiences as a young man. When making this comparison, however, I found “Colorless Tsukuru…” to be lacking in some ways. For example, “Norweigen Wood” contains much more in terms of interesting social commentary, being set in the turbulent Tokyo of the early 1960s, and it also has a cast of more engaging characters. None of the people I encountered during the course of “Colorless Tsukuru…” really jumped off the page and grabbed my attention like, for instance, Midori or Reiko from “Norwegian Wood” managed to.

Although I wasn’t totally drawn in by the story, or captivated by its characters, I did find plenty to enjoy in it, and by the end I was firmly rooting for Tsukuru to achieve his long-sought-for peace of mind. I also liked the fact that, unlike the bloated “1Q84,” this was a much more streamlined and compact tale, which never dragged. It could have done with more a bit more characteristic Murakami weirdness and dry humor to lighten the overly melancholic tone, but there were enough genuinely memorable and moving passages within it for me to give it a firm thumbs up. I especially liked the story-within-a-story early on, told to Tsukuru by his college friend, about an aging pianist who claims he carries around the gift of death, which he's willing to pass onto anyone who wishes to die in his place. Indeed, the grim specter of death looms over this novel from its opening line: "From July of his sophomore year at college to January of the next year, Tsukuru Tasaki was mostly thinking about dying."


This focus on death is just one of a number of common Murakami themes covered during the course of “Colorless Tsukuru…” There are also musings on the blurring between dreams and reality, the connection between music and memory, and nostalgia for lost innocence of youth, as well as exhaustive descriptions of what people are wearing and eating (though unusually no mention of cats!). Indeed, probably the main criticism leveled at Murakami is that he tends to repeat himself from novel to novel. While I accept this is true in a way, I don’t believe it's necessarily a negative quality. Reading a new Murakami novel is a bit like meeting up with a close friend after many years, just as Tsukuru does – you hope they haven’t changed too much as this may lead to the loss of what made you friends in the first place. It didn’t bother me that this story ploughed over some familiar furrows, as this familiarity itself was comforting. That said, it’s not so interesting if the friend/book in question stays completely the same, and there were enough distinguishing elements to this latest work to keep me turning the pages. In any case, to me there’s something seductive about Murakami’s simple yet powerfully evocative style whatever he's writing about. I wouldn't put it past him to make even the latest stock market reports a pleasurable reading experience!

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

AKB48 Theater - Heart of Cuteness

In the world of Japanese popular culture, AKB48 are a pop behemoth of Godzilla-like proportions. They are not only huge in terms of actual size (a world record 86 members) but in the scale of their success (over 20 million CDs sold to date) and general all-pervading kawaii (cute) influence here in Japan. It seems that every other billboard and TV commercial features the sweetly smiling faces of the group's more famous members plugging everything from chocolate to smartphones. Much more than just a musical act, AKB48 is a phenomenon, with a fanatical, overwhelmingly male fan base who worship their favourite members as idols (kind of like Justin Bieber beliebers but with more facial hair). While I don't count myself among their ranks, I was still pretty excited to be offered the chance by a friend last month to gain access to the holiest of holy sites for the group's cult following - the AKB48 Theater!

"Japan's most sophisticated show", apparently.

Located in the Akihabara district of Tokyo, from which the group takes its name, the AKB48 Theater represents the spiritual home and focal point for the whole AKB48 empire. When record producer Yasushi Akimoto launched the group back in 2005, the main way he aimed to distinguish them from their pop idol rivals was to exploit the “girl next door” appeal and make the members more accessible to the fans, as real people rather than just pretty faces on a TV screen. This was largely made possible through establishing the dedicated space of the AKB48 Theater, where performances could be held on an almost daily basis by rotating the deep member roster. It’s not hard to see why Akihabara was chosen as the group’s base - the place is swarming with otaku (geeks, or obsessive fans, particularly of anime and computer games) who come to shop in the area’s many electronics and hobby stores and hang out in maid cafes. A typical otaku may be a single guy in his 20s-30s with a penchant for bubbly young girls with squeaky voices and wide eyes who perhaps remind him of his favorite anime character – in short, the kind of guy most likely to fall for the adolescent charms of AKB48! It also seems completely appropriate that the theater itself can be found on the top floor of Don Quijote, a discount chain store that sells, among other things, computer games, anime DVDs and figurines.

The show that I went along to was especially for fans born in the month of April. A friend of mine had got hold of 2 tickets by applying online through a random lottery system, and kindly offered the spare to me, being a fellow April birthday boy. On stepping off the escalator shortly before the performance was due to start, we were ushered to a space by the theater entrance where we had to join one of several lines, divided up according to ticket number. We were then subjected to another lottery, this time to determine the order in which we could enter the theater. Unfortunately, our line number was one of the last to be drawn, meaning that we had to settle for a standing spot near the back. It didn’t matter too much though, as the theater itself was surprisingly small, with a capacity of just over 200. On reflection, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised – like most massive empires, AKB48 come from humble beginnings, and besides, the small size of the venue serves to make it more intimate, helping preserve accessibility to the fans.

The 16 members who took to the stage for this particular performance were all classed as kenkyusei (literally "research students" though closer to interns), which meant there was a distinct lack of familiar faces for me, as well as a relatively, ahem, youthful tone, with an average age of 15-16 years old. One face I did recognize was 20 year-old Minami Minegishi, a prominent member of the main group who had been demoted to the ranks of kenkyusei a month or so previously for the shameful crime of spending the night at the apartment of a Japanese boyband member, which broke the strict ban on AKB members having relations with the opposite sex. She must have been performing in a wig on this day, as she’d shaved off her hair when caught as a sign of contrition for her subversive behavior!


Interesting costume choice - pajamas + jacket

Moving on to the performance, to be honest, I’ve never been much of a fan of the AKB48 brand of bouncy, saccharine pop, and I wasn’t exactly converted through the experience of hearing it live. Having said that, it was perfectly listenable, inoffensive fluff. We weren’t treated to any of the group’s big hits, as the set list was exclusive to the AKB48 theater, but I wasn’t too bothered about this as most of the songs sound pretty much the same to me anyway. I actually found some of the song titles more interesting than the songs themselves (pajama drive, moody mermaid*, angel’s tail*, Joan of Arc in the mirror*). One thing I was impressed with was the bewildering array of costumes. For instance, as well as a fetching pajama and jacket combo for “pajama drive,” the members strutted their stuff in shiny space suits, marching band outfits and, of course, the obligatory school uniforms.  (*rough translation)

Now, I couldn’t write about this experience without touching on the slightly creepy aspect of it all. The fact that a fair proportion of the girls on stage weren’t even out of high school made me feel like a bit of a “dirty old man” just being there. While the dancing and costumes couldn’t exactly be described as Rihanna-level raunchy, it was hard to escape the fact that I was in an audience made up of around 95% grown men who were most likely not just there for the music. I don’t want to simply label AKB fans as perverts, however. If that was all there was to the attraction, then they could get their kicks more easily on the Internet or elsewhere. For me, the key part of the whole performance, and the secret behind AKB48’s mass appeal, was epitomized in the breaks between songs, when the members interacted with the audience and each other. One typical exchange involved members taking it in turns to say what they were “into” recently. The responses were mostly pretty standard, teenage girl stuff (a certain kind of ice cream, their pet dog, sleeping), though there were a few weird answers such as one girl's fondness for the smell of a particular fellow member's sweaty BO. I had to laugh when one of the younger members said she was into 葉っぱ, which basically means “leaves” but could also refer to a certain kind of recreational drug (she most likely meant the former but I prefer to believe she was talking about the latter)! My point is that they basically came across as normal teenage girls, without any airs or graces, just having a good time hanging out with their friends. They didn’t appear as untouchable stars but as genuine, approachable, personalities. A final, personal touch was laid on after the show when everyone in the audience received a mini birthday card handwritten by one of the performing members (mine had misspelled her message “Happy Biathday” but that merely added to the charm).

So, while I’m far from being a convert to the legion of AKB fans, I do feel that I at least have a bit more appreciation for their appeal after visiting the ABK48 Theater. Whether you're an otaku or not, as a quintessential taste of the bizarre/kawaii mixture that characterizes much of modern Japan it's an experience I'd recommend.