Title: 1Q84
Author: Haruki Murakami
Progress: 50%
Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars
NYT BS Hardcover/E-Book List: #25 (but was in
the top 10 for a while)
Book 7 out of 107
When I
put down “1Q84,” I feel as if emerging from a dream. I’m a bit disorientated, a
bit disturbed, melancholy and a might creeped out. I’ve never read anything like
it.
Given
the long passages of backstory, of exposition, of exposition delivered as long
episodes of dialogue, all the extended asides into minutia, it has no right to
be as compelling as it is, to have the power that it does. And yet it has a
hold on me that I’m going to miss once I finish it.
I think
it’s the work of a genius.
So I
was surprised by its reviews, which range from dismissive to disappointed to
angry. Not so with many reader reviews. The amateurs at Amazon and Good Reads
have plenty of positive things to say. Search for #1q84 on Twitter and you’ll
find a legion of happy Murakami-heads.
The professionals, not so much.
Janet
Maslin of the New York Times throws several haymakers to the literary jaw of
Mr. Murakami. To her, reading “1Q84” is akin to be “stuck in quicksand.” It’s a
“stupefying” experience, she says.
 |
| My review of bad reviews of "1Q84" |
To
Nathan Heller over at Slate, Mr. Murakami isn’t even a good writer. In fact,
according Mr. Heller, the wildly popular author has never been a good writer.
Apparently, his first writing award as "best new young writer" was given
half-heartedly by judges who in essence gave the entered work a grade of C.
Why
it won if it was so mediocre Mr. Heller doesn’t actually explain. It’s an
unanswered question of the kind Ms. Maslin hates so much.
Across the
pond, Matt Thorn at the UK’s telegraph calls it a “tedious waste of the reader’s
time.” You read that aloud with a British accent and it has a serious sting.
All my
life, I’ve been fascinated by works that get uniformly good reviews.
If critics become unanimous about something, I want to know why and immediately
digest whatever obscure foreign film or independently published novel is getting
buzz from the professionally opinionated.
Sometimes,
they are absolutely right. Sometimes, critics herald amazing works like “A
Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius,” "Breaking Bad" and “Memento.” Thanks critics! You
have made my life that much more enjoyable by celebrating what the Pop Culture
Machine would not otherwise have put in front of my eyes.
On the
other hand, I sometimes take it personally when something I love takes beating.
Guess what? I liked “Thor” and “Captain America.” I liked “the Da Vinci Code”
(the book, not so much the movie). I liked “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” the
book and movies (US and Swedish).
I really loved Woody Allen’s “Whatever Works”. “Midnight in
Paris” is getting huge kudos this year, and it’s great, but “WW” with a bitter,
sarcastic and lovable Larry David makes me smile just thinking about it. And
critics hated it.
And
they loved “Greenburg: (75% at Rotten Tomatoes.com!), which is a stinking pile
of unfunny dreck full of critic bait.
When I
read a bad review of something I love, I try to decipher why the critic is
disapproving, and figure out if maybe I’m wrong. What flaws do I have that I
missed such glaring shittiness?
Let’s
break down a few things Slate’s Mr. Heller offers as evidence of Mr. Murakami
being a bad writer.
This is
from his review…
“And
yet for all of its plotting flourishes, 1Q84
reads, paragraph-to-paragraph, as some of Murakami’s weakest
writing in years. Obvious things are overexplained. (“If we're through
choosing, we'd better close the menus,” Aomame at one point instructs.
“Otherwise the waiter will never come.”) Figurative language is often forced.
(“Little children might pee in their pants, the impact of her frown was so
powerful,” goes one description.) And when the book’s frenetically evolving
plot requires explanation, as if often does, much of the crucial data is simply
dropped into the mouths of characters…”
When I read the cited passages in the book,
they didn’t strike me as bad writing. Maybe I’m a barely literate idiot, but
they didn’t.
With the menu business, the stilted dialogue
between two characters happens while they are just getting to know each other.
They are young women who aren’t used to having friends. They are nervous and worrying
about what the other is thinking and what they should think about the other.
That kind of social situation leads to saying overly obvious things like: “We
should put our menus down or the waiter will never come.” That line seemed
perfectly suited to the situation and the mindset of the characters.
With the second example, citing the “forced”
figurative language, this thought happens in the head of a character suffering
from sharp self-esteem problems. And while a beautiful girl, she can become
inordinately scary looking when grimacing. It’s something she worries about a
lot and will often force a smile from her lips for fear of letting slip her
frightening expression. So again, that line, the childlike tone of it, the
simplicity of it, I had no problem with.
I’m trying to prove anyone wrong. When it
comes to art, there is no right and wrong. People like or dislike, and some
people can explain with entertaining clarity why it is something repels are
attracts them.
In the case of “1Q84”, all I can say is that
I love it. It has a hold on my imagination. I know, like and hope for the two
main characters. My perception of the real world seems a bit shifted after a
long session of reading this beguiling book; things seem a bit unreal and
mysterious, filled with strange connections. I half expect to look up into the
sky and see a second moon, a green one, and feel the pull of the vacuum of
fate, which is what I think this book is actually about.
Or maybe I’m wrong. Who knows?
I do know this about reviews and critics.
As much as I appreciate their work, a critic
has never moved me. Mr. Heller will never make me re-examine the nature of life
and fate. Ms. Maslin will never make me cry or laugh or write anything that
will make me say wow. Critics, at best, can point to works that would otherwise
go unnoticed. But do they have anything to teach me? I think maybe not. Not
much anyway.
So here is a new rule for this project. I’m
not going to read reviews, professional reviews, until after I’ve read the book
and learned what I can from it.
My task is to discover the power and secrets
of how these novels work, reverse engineering them so I can put one together
myself. I’ve read enough how-to-write books and reviews, and if you could
become a novelist just through reading those, I’d be rivaling Stephen King by
now.
Now, back to year 1Q84. Some crazy, crazy stuff is happening, and I’m sure
Janet Maslin doesn’t approve of any of it.
