I have picked up and put down Murakami books many times over the years, but this time I actually got round to settling down and reading this book. To start with I thought that, although the writing style wasn’t my thing, the plot was intriguing and made me want to find out more and keep reading. I felt it would end up being a three star read for me. Sadly, just more and more in the book bothered me. In the end I have given it one star because the plot kept me reading and I finished the book...but one star for me is the equivalent of a very poor book.

The reasons I don’t like this book are:

The depictions of women felt like they were written by a Victorian male with the worst stereotypical view of women. Women were either small, delicate, perfect, with porcelain skin and yielding to men or caricatures of bra burning feminists. Apparently all trashy TV is made for ‘housewives’

One of the main protagonists, Kafka, is a fifteen year old boy. But even taking his age into consideration, his view of women was cringey. At one point he rapes a girl he has been friends with. The scene is a dream but this isn’t a normal dream, the book is magical realism so reality and dreams are blurred... during the rape the girl is said to ‘give herself up to’ the rape. Then he ‘feels the pleasure rising up in her’ as he rapes her....while she is saying no....I obviously think it is ok to describe rape in a book but these comments are never ok in that context. About two thirds into the book an encounter with a prostitute is described. The overall impression is that the prostitute loves her job and the strangers she is paid to have sex with, that the acts she is expected to perform she enjoys even after she has earned her cash. The sex scenes were terrible and very poorly written. Like some man having sex with a woman out of the Stepford Wives. In fact women are described just like the women in that 1970s film. The protagonist was 15 but the writer was not ...it is a clever thing to write from the perspective of a teenager but include some sense of maturity and comprehension of what is being described...so we understand how the protagonist thinks but can see it from a more real perspective, there is none of that cleverness here.

Kafka has a lot of showers in this book, these are described in detail for no logical or plot associated reason. And every time he has a shower he washes his c*ck and b*lls thoroughly...graphically described. Much attention is paid to his penis...it became almost giggle worthy...’off he goes to the shower...he is going to have exceedingly clean nether regions again’ likewise an obsession with the protagonists taking ‘a dump’ ...I mean ...why? Again very eye rolling writing.

Gradually the plot seemed to descend into a free fall of boring, lack of good ideas. It felt lazy and juvenile. At times it became like a 1950’s horror movie ....Loose ends were not so much tied up as hit over with a hammer to weld them, never to fray again. A most unsatisfactory end.

A long section towards the end has a long dialogue of
‘Xxxxx’ said the tall one,
‘xxxxxx’ said the brawny one
‘xxxxx’ said the tall one
‘xxxxx’ said the brawny one
‘Xxxx’ said the tall one
Etc etc etc
and that writing of dialogue went on and on, until to change things up a bit ‘said the brawny one’ became.... ‘the brawny one added’.

The good bits were the depiction of Nakata, apart from his frequent ‘dumps’ he was a good character.
I would say I liked Oshima but in the end he was used to attack anyone questioning equality for women. I felt his character was also just a mouthpiece for the authors need to show off a bit..

Oh and I totally get the Oedipus association but that seemed to be a hook to hang some intellectual pretensions on.