08 January 2009

What I talk about when I talk about running - by Haruki Murakami

I am not a Murakami fan; in fact, I have hardly read any of his novels to completion before. I started reading "Kafka on the Shore", but promptly gave it up as I realized that the genre was not really up my alley. So why did I decide to purchase a copy of "What I talk about when I talk about running", a memoir by Haruki Murakami?

Because I love to run. No other physical activity that I have tried gives me the kind of joy that I experience right after a long, hard, sweaty, pulse-quickening run. Nothing is simpler to do, more meditative, more solitary, than running. Nothing gives me the sense of achievement as setting a goal for myself - a 5K or a 10K or a 15K run - and actually training for it and completing the distance. I love to run, and that is exactly why I picked up the book "What I talk about when I talk about running".

I finished the book, however, with mixed feelings. As a runner, I appreciated it. I imagine I'll even re-read the book over and over again. I enjoyed the sections where he describes his running lifestyle, his thoughts and the feelings he experiences when he runs. Some of my other favourite sections in the book include his evocative description of Charles river and his runs along its bank. I could see that he was in love with that river. His musings about the surface of the river, how it changes with the seasons, how clouds are reflected on it, how various birds float and people row their boats on it, were thoroughly enjoyable. I have been to Cambridge, MA once and I could see myself running along the river as I read his words.

But this doesn't mean that his writing is stellar. On the contrary, I was very disappointed with it.

Unless an author's writing stuns me utterly, I've always been turned off when he or she waxes poetic about inanimate objects, anthropomorphising them. Murakami is almost obsessed with anthropomorphising clouds and wind and rain and other non-living things. For instance, in page 5, he talks about how a thick cloud moved in during one of his runs, but quickly whisked itself away "as if it had remembered, 'Oh, I've got to do some errands'". A cloud remembering its errands! That was a little too forced and sentimental for my taste.

The book is an undeniable easy read. In fact, it reads like a blog, one not very coherent or thought through. The chronological order is not linear and it is hard to follow his journey as a runner without flipping back a few pages and re-reading some paragraphs every now and then. The narrative, the style and the diction all seem to be pedestrian. There are too many repeated phrases and too many filler words ("sort of", "kind of", "after a fashion" etc.).

Many unoriginal observations presume to be philosophical musings. For instance, in page 121, you'll encounter this sentence that feels wrong on so many levels: "And one of the privileges given to those who've avoided dying young is the blessed right to grow old." It seems like a tautology to me, essentially saying that if you don't die young, you grow old. Isn't that obvious? (My husband pointed to me, when I discussed this with him, that indeed both of us are not right: one can avoid dying AND growing old by dying in middle age.)

Not only that, note in the same sentence: "one of the privileges...is the right". Isn't there a difference between privilege and right - the former being conditionally granted and the latter being something one is born with? How can you put those two words together like that and expect the sentence to flow well? Perhaps the author is just trying to be funny, but the sentence makes one do a double-take, at the very least, before one can move past it.

There are other similar sentences that seem to hiccup on the pages: "No matter how much I write, I never reach a conclusion. No matter how much I rewrite, I never reach the destination". I don't see why those sentences are put together like that and to what logical end their pairing tends.

Overall, the book is prosaic, but as a runner, I am sure I'll cherish it and give it a second and a third chance. If you're a non-runner or someone not into endurance activities, however, I'd not recommend this book to you.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I feel compelled to just specify that "What I talk about. . ." was written in Japanese and translated into English by one of Murakami's regular translators. So difficulties with close reading (the "privilege" section") can be at least partly attributed to mr Gabriel.

Anyway, for me, I read this book on a single flight and can hardly remember a bit of it. It was fluffy and enjoyable, but it definitely didn't stick. If nothing else it increased my respect for someone who is such a prolific author AND translator. Finding time for physical fitness (including the commute to the gym, shower, etc) is something that many people don't bother to do.

And I thought 35 minutes on the eliptical was heroic in my own life, for a 50 something man to be getting kicked underwater by competitive triatheletes...well, I've got a ways to go.

I'd say the biggest feat of the book is that Murakami is welcoming and humble about his achievements, and not boastful.

take care now,
Sam

Suze said...

Thanks for posting your review, Raji! I read it several days ago but I'm a bit forgetful about commenting and posting at times. :/ I love Murakami's novels but I probably won't be picking this book up, hehe.