Kafka on the Shore

by Haruki Murakami

  "Yes, I am able to talk with it a little now. Nakata used to be able to talk with cats."

  "No one else can do that, right? Other people can read all the books they want and they're still not gonna know how to talk to stones or cats."

  "These days, though, Nakata's having a lot of dreams. In my dreams, for some reason, I'm able to read. I'm not as dumb as I am now. I'm so happy and I go to the library and read lots of books. And I'm thinking how wonderful it is to be able to read. I'm reading one book after another, but then the light in the library goes out and it's dark. Somebody turned off the light. I can't see a thing. I can't read any more books. And then I wake up. Even if it's only in a dream, it's wonderful to be able to read."

  "Interesting...," Hoshino said. "And here I'm able to read and hardly ever pick up a book. The world's a mixed-up place, that's for sure."

  "Mr. Hoshino?" Nakata asked.

  "What's up?"

  "What day of the week is it today?"

  "It's Saturday."

  "So tomorrow would be Sunday?"

  "Normally, yeah."

  "Would you drive me tomorrow morning?"

  "Sure, but where do you want to go?"

  "Nakata doesn't know. I'll think about it after I get in the car."

  "Believe it or not," Hoshino said, "I had a feeling that's what you were going to say."

  Hoshino woke up the next morning just after seven. Nakata was already up cooking breakfast. Hoshino went to the bathroom, scrubbed his face with cold water, and shaved with an electric razor. They breakfasted on rice, miso soup with eggplant, dried mackerel, and pickles. Hoshino had a second helping of rice.

  While Nakata washed the dishes Hoshino watched the news on TV. This time there was a short piece on the murder in Nakano. "Ten days have passed since the incident, but the police still have no leads," the NHK announcer droned. An impressive front gate of a house flashed on the screen, cordoned off, with a patrolman stationed outside.

  "The search continues for the missing fifteen-year-old son of the deceased, though his whereabouts remain unknown. The search continues as well for a man in his sixties who lives in the neighborhood and stopped by a police station right after the incident to provide information regarding the murder. It remains unclear whether or not there is a connection between these two people. Because the inside of the house was undisturbed, the police believed that the crime was an act of personal revenge rather than a robbery gone bad and are investigating Mr. Tamura's friends and acquaintances. At the Tokyo National Modern Art Museum, where Mr. Tamura's artistic achievements are being honored—"

  "Hey, Gramps," Hoshino called out to Nakata in the kitchen.

  "Yes? What is it?"

  "Do you know the son of this guy that was murdered in Nakano? This fifteen-year-old?"

  "No, I don't. As I told you, all Nakata knows about is Johnnie Walker and his dog."

  "Yeah?" Hoshino replied. "The police are looking for that boy, too. An only child, it sounds like, and there's no mention of his mom. I guess he ran away from home just before the murder and he's still missing."

  "Is that so...."

  "A hard nut to crack, this murder," Hoshino said. "But the police are a pretty tight-lipped bunch—they always know more than they let on. According to Colonel Sanders, they're on to you, and know you're in Takamatsu. Plus they know some handsome guy like me's with you. But they haven't leaked that to the media yet. They're afraid if they let on we're here, we'll hightail it somewhere else. That's why they're insisting they don't know where we are, publicly. A delightful bunch, cops."

  At eight-thirty they went out to the rental car and climbed in. As he settled down into the passenger seat, Nakata had his usual thermos of hot tea with him, as well as his faithful shapeless hat, umbrella, and canvas bag. As they were leaving the apartment Hoshino was about to put on his Chunichi Dragons cap when he glanced in the mirror and was brought up short. The police must know the young guy they were looking for would be decked out in a Dragons ball cap, green Ray-Bans, and an aloha shirt. There couldn't be many people with Dragons caps on here in Takamatsu, and add on Ray-Bans and the shirt and he'd stick out like a sore thumb. So that's why Colonel Sanders stocked the place with inconspicuous navy blue polo shirts—he must've anticipated this. Nothing gets by him, Hoshino thought, and tossed the sunglasses and cap aside.

  "So, where to?" he asked.

  "Anywhere is fine," Nakata replied. "Just circle around the city."

  "You sure?"

  "You can go wherever you like. I'll just enjoy the scenery."

  "This is a first," Hoshino said. "I've done my share of driving—both in the Self-Defense Force and with the truck company—and I'm a decent driver, if I say so myself. But every time I get behind the wheel, I know where I'm going and beeline it right there. That's just the way I am, I guess. Nobody's ever told me, You can go wherever you like—anywhere is fine. You're kind of baffling me here."

  "Nakata is very sorry."

  "It's okay—no need to apologize. I'll do my best," Hoshino said. He slipped the CD of the Archduke Trio into the player. "I'll just drive all over the city while you enjoy the view. Is that okay?"

  "Yes, that would be fine."

  "I'll stop the car when you find what you're looking for. And then the story will develop in a new direction. Do I have that right?"

  "Yes, that's what might happen," Nakata said.

  "Let's hope so," Hoshino said, and unfolded the city map in his lap.

  The two of them drove through the city, Hoshino marking each street on a block to make sure they'd covered every one, then heading over to the next. They took an occasional break so Nakata could enjoy a cup of tea, and Hoshino a Marlboro. The Archduke Trio played over and over. At noon they stopped by a diner and had curry.

  "But what the heck are you looking for?" Hoshino asked after they'd eaten.

  "I don't know. But I think—"

  "—that you'll know it when you see it. And until you see it, you won't know what it is."

  "Yes, that's correct."

  Hoshino shook his head listlessly. "I knew what you were gonna say, but I just had to be sure."

  "Mr. Hoshino?"

  "Yeah?"

  "It might take some time before I find it."

  "That's okay. We'll do our best. The boat's left the dock, and we're stuck on it."

  "Are we going to take a boat?" Nakata asked.

  "No. No boats for the time being."

  At three they went into a coffee shop, where Hoshino had a cup of coffee. Nakata puzzled over his order, finally going with the iced milk. By this time Hoshino was exhausted from all the driving and didn't feel like talking. He'd had his fill of Beethoven.

  Driving around in a circle, getting nowhere, didn't suit him. He had to keep his speed down and pay careful attention to what he was doing, and he was getting bored. An occasional patrol car would pass by, and Hoshino did his best to avoid eye contact. He also tried to avoid passing in front of any police boxes. The Mazda Familia might be just about the most inconspicuous car on the road, but if the police spotted the same car passing by a few times they might very well pull him over. He drove cautiously, making absolutely sure he didn't rear-end anybody. An accident would put everything in jeopardy.

  As Hoshino drove around the city, checking the map as he went, Nakata sat motionless, hands on the window, scanning the passing scenery, intently searching for something, for all the world like a child or a well-behaved dog. They each concentrated on their task until evening, and hardly a word passed between them.

  "What are you searching for?" Out of desperation Hoshino started singing an Inoue Yosui tune. He couldn't recall the rest of the lyrics, so he made them up as he went along.

  Haven't you found it yet?

  The sun is soon setting...

  And Hoshino's stomach is growling.

  Driving round and round sets my head spinning.

  They went back to the apartment at six.

  "Let's continue t
omorrow," Nakata said.

  "We covered a lot of territory today. We can probably finish up the whole city tomorrow," Hoshino said. "Hey—I got a question for you."

  "And what might that be?"

  "If you don't find what you're looking for in Takamatsu, then what?"

  Nakata gave his head a good rub. "If we can't find it in Takamatsu, then we'll have to look farther out."

  "And if you still can't find it, then what're we supposed to do?"

  "If that happens, then we have to search even more."

  "We'll just make bigger and bigger circles and eventually we'll find it. Like the saying goes, if a dog walks on, it's bound to bump into a stick."

  "Yes, I think that will happen," Nakata said. "But Nakata doesn't understand. Why does a dog have to hit a stick if it walks? If there's a stick in front of it, the dog can go around it."

  Hoshino puzzled this over. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I never thought about it before...."

  "It's very strange."

  "Let's put the dog and the stick aside for a minute, okay?" Hoshino said. "That only complicates things. What I want to know is how far are we going to search? If we don't watch out, before we know it we'll wind up in another prefecture—Ehime or Kochi or someplace. Summer will be over and it'll be fall by then."

  "That may well be. But I have to find it, even if it's fall or winter. I know I can't ask you to help me forever. Nakata will just walk alone and keep on searching."

  "Let's not worry about that for right now," Hoshino stammered. "But can't the stone be a pal and give us a hint or something? Even an approximate location would help."

  "Nakata's very sorry, but the stone doesn't say much."

  "Yeah, it doesn't strike me as the talkative type," Hoshino said. "I don't imagine it's much good at swimming, either. Whatever... We don't need to think about it now. Let's get a good night's sleep and see what tomorrow brings."

  The next day it was the same routine, with Hoshino this time circling the western half of the city. By now his city map was full of yellow lines. Only the increased number of yawns coming from the driver set this day apart from the previous one.

  Nakata kept his face plastered against the window, intently studying the passing scenery, and they hardly spoke. Whatever Nakata was looking for, he didn't find it.

  "Would today be Monday?" Nakata asked.

  "Yup. Yesterday was Sunday, so today's Monday," Hoshino said. Then, almost in desperation, he made up a melody to some words that popped into his head: If today is Monday, tomorrow must be Tuesday.

  Ants are hard workers, swallows like to dress up.

  The chimney's tall, the setting sun red.

  "Mr. Hoshino," Nakata said after a while.

  "Yeah?"

  "You can look at ants working for a long time and never tire of it."

  "I suppose you're right," Hoshino replied.

  At noon they stopped by a restaurant specializing in eel and ordered the lunch special, a bowl of rice topped with eel. At three they went to a coffee shop, where Hoshino had coffee, Nakata kelp tea. By six p. m. the map was a mass of yellow marks, the anonymous tires of the Familia having traversed every square inch of road in the city.

  But still no luck.

  What are you searching for? Hoshino sang again in a listless voice: Haven't you found it yet? / We've gone everywhere in town. / My butt's aching, so can't we go home?

  After he finished, he said, "We keep this up much longer, I'll turn into a regular singer-songwriter," Hoshino said.

  "What would that be?" Nakata asked.

  "Never mind. Just a harmless joke."

  Calling it a day, they left the city, got on the highway, and headed back to the apartment. Lost in thought, Hoshino failed to turn left when he should. He tried to get back on the highway, but the road curved off at a strange angle into a maze of one-way streets and he was soon totally lost. Before he realized it they were in a residential area they'd never seen before, an old-looking, elegant neighborhood with high walls surrounding the homes. The road was strangely quiet, with not a soul in sight.

  "I don't think we're too far from our apartment, but I have no idea where we are," Hoshino admitted. He parked the car in an empty lot, cut the engine, set the parking brake, and spread out his map. He checked the name of the neighborhood and street number on a nearby lightpole and looked for it on the map. Maybe his eyes were too tired, but he couldn't find it.

  "Mr. Hoshino?" Nakata asked.

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm sorry to bother you, but what does it say on that sign over there on that gate?"

  Hoshino looked up from his map and glanced where Nakata was pointing, down a high wall with an old-fashioned gate, and next to it a large wooden sign. The black gate was shut tight. "Komura Memorial Library," Hoshino read. "Huh, a library in this deserted part of town? Doesn't even look like a library. More like an old mansion."

  "Ko-mu-ra-Me-mori-al-Li-bra-ry?"

  "You got it. Must be made to commemorate somebody named Komura. Who this Komura guy is, though, I have no idea."

  "Mr. Hoshino?"

  "Yup?"

  "That's it."

  "What do you mean—that?"

  "The place Nakata's been searching for."

  Hoshino looked up from his map again and gazed into Nakata's eyes. He frowned, looked at the sign, and slowly read it again. He patted a Marlboro out of the box, put it between his lips, and lit it with his plastic lighter. He slowly inhaled, then blew smoke out the open window. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, this is it."

  "Chance is a scary thing, isn't it?" Hoshino said.

  "It certainly is," Nakata agreed.

  Chapter 39

  My second day on the mountain passes by leisurely, seamlessly. The only thing that distinguishes one day from the next is the weather. If the weather was the same I couldn't tell one day from another. Yesterday, today, tomorrow—they'd all blur into one.

  Like an anchorless ship, time floats aimlessly across the broad sea.

  I do the math and come up with today as Tuesday. The day Miss Saeki gives a tour of the library, provided there are any people who want to take it. Just like the very first day I came to the place.... Spike heels clicking on the stairs, she walks up to the second floor, the sound reverberating through the stillness. Her glistening stockings, bright white blouse, tiny pearl earrings, her Mont Blanc pen on top of her desk. Her calm smile, tinged with the long shadow of resignation. All these details seem so far away now—and no longer real.

  Sitting on the sofa in the cabin, the odor of the faded fabric all around me, memories of our lovemaking rise up in my head. Miss Saeki slowly removing her clothes, getting into bed. My cock, not surprisingly, is rock hard as these thoughts filter through my mind, but the tip's not red or sore anymore and doesn't sting.

  Tiring of these sexual fantasies, I wander outside and go into my usual exercise routine. I hang on to the porch railing and go through an ab workout. Then I do some quick squats, followed by hard stretching. By this time I'm covered in sweat, so I wet my towel in the stream and wipe myself off. The cold water helps calm my nerves. I sit down on the porch and listen to Radiohead on my Walkman. Since I ran away I've been listening to the same music over and over—Radiohead's Kid A, Prince's Very Best of.

  Sometimes Coltrane's My Favorite Things.

  At two p.m.—just when the library tour is starting—I head out into the forest. I follow the same path, walk for a while, and arrive at the clearing. I sit down on the grass, lean back against a tree trunk, and gaze up at the round opening of sky through the branches. The edges of white summer clouds are visible. Up to this point, I'm safe. I can find my way back to the cabin. A maze for beginners—if this were a video game I've easily cleared Level 1. If I go any farther, though, I'll enter a more elaborate, more challenging labyrinth. The path gets narrower and I'll get swallowed up by the sea of ferns.

  I ignore this and forge on ahead.

  I want to see how deep this forest
really is. I know it's dangerous, but I want to see—and feel—what kind of danger lies ahead, how dangerous it really is. I have to.

  Something's shoving me forward.

  I cautiously go down a kind of path. The trees tower higher and higher, the air growing denser by the minute. Up above, the mass of branches nearly blots out the sky.

  All signs of summer have vanished, and it's like seasons never existed. Soon I no longer know if what I'm following is a path or not. It looks like a path, is shaped like one—but then again it doesn't, and isn't. In the middle of all this stuffy, overgrown greenery all definitions start to get a bit fuzzy around the edges. What makes sense, and what doesn't, it's all mixed up. Above me, a crow gives out a piercing caw that sounds like a warning, it's so jarring. I stop and cautiously survey my surroundings. Without the proper equipment it's too dangerous to go any farther. I have to turn around.

  Which isn't easy. Like Napoleon's army on the retreat, going back is more difficult than going forward, I discover. The path back is misleading, the dense vegetation forming a dark wall in front of me. My own breathing sounds loud in my ears, like a wind blowing at the edge of the world. A huge black butterfly about the size of my palm appears from the shade of the trees and flutters into my line of sight, its shape reminding me of that bloodstain on my T-shirt. It flies slowly across an open space, then disappears among the trees again, and once it vanishes everything suddenly seems even more oppressive, the air chillier. I'm seized by panic—not knowing how to get out of here. The crow squawks out shrilly again—the same bird as before, sending the same message. I stand still and look up, but can't see it. A breeze, a real one, blows up from time to time, ominously rustling the dark leaves at my feet. I sense shadows racing past behind me, but when I spin around they've hidden themselves.

  Somehow I'm able to make it back to my safety zone—the little round clearing in the forest. I plop down on the grass and take a deep breath. I look up at the patch of real sky above me a couple of times, just to convince myself I've made it back to the world I came from. Signs of summer—so precious now—surround me. Sunlight envelopes me like a film, warming me up. But the fear I felt clings to me like a clump of unmelted snow in the corner of a garden. My heart beats irregularly from time to time, and my skin still has a slightly creepy feeling.