In my days as a literature major and later as a bookseller, I’ve found that it takes a certain type of person to really be excited about sinking their teeth into a Russian novel. Maybe they’re a little dark or maybe they just kind of enjoy being mired in doomed love affairs and the problems with muzhiks.

If you are ambitious in your literary ventures, think about picking up (Is it too early to start thinking of New Year’s resolutions?) one of Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky’s translations. After all even Hemingway once said that reading “the Russians was like having a great treasure given to you.”

Pevear and Volokhonsky are translating wonder team—they have translated several of both Tolstoy’s Dostoevsky’s works, Bulgakov’s The Master and the Margarita, Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago and various texts by Chekhov and Gogol. I can personally attest to their great work, having read their version of Anna Karenina twice. Their translation is both accessible and elegant, and they provide the reader with detailed footnotes to put you up to speed on 19^th century Russian culture, obscure literary references, and the occasional French translation (those aristocrats and the way they throw around French phrases).

I would argue that Pevear and Volokhonsky are (thanks in part to the selection of Anna Karenina by Oprah for her book club in 2004) some of the best-known translators in the literary world today. In The New Yorker’s 2005 article “The Translation Wars,” David Remnick describes the couple’s translation process, in this case specifically pertaining to their first translation, Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov:

“Their division of labor was—and remains—nearly absolute: First, Larissa wrote out a kind of hyperaccurate trot of the original, complete with interstitial notes about Dostoyevsky’s diction, syntax, and references. Then, Richard, who has never mastered conversational Russian, wrote a smoother, more Englished text, constantly consulting Larissa about the original and the possibilities that it did and did not allow. They went back and forth like this several times, including a final session in which Richard read his English version aloud while Larissa followed along in the Russian. “

The danger with translated works is that there’s a fine line between taking creative license as a translator and making the original story flow in a new language and perhaps taking it too far, so that the temptation is to “smooth out” as Pevear says in Remnick’s article the “mixed metaphors, stumbles, and mistakes” of human speech. Such is reportedly the case with Constance Garnett’s original translations of the Russians—critics, Nabokov among them, stated that Garnett’s work simplified the complexities of the original texts.

And though I cannot read Russian, (maybe another New Year’s resolution?) so cannot comment as to the true accuracy of Pevear and Volohonsky’s translation, I can tell you that their work is a masterpiece.

by Kaycie

An international bestseller, The Art of Hearing Heartbeats, was recently translated and published here in the United States so that we could all enjoy it.

An original paperback, written by  Jean-Phillipp Sendker, has a title that has caused several people to stop in their tracks while browsing the bookstore. Set in Burma, you first meet Julia who is sitting in a tiny cafe after traveling many hours to find her father. At this cafe, she is approached by a man who knows her name, why she is there and her life story. Across the world from her home of New York City, it seems unbelievable that someone knows her. Sitting at the table, in the cafe, Julia is about to learn her life story.

Julia’s father, who was most recently a New York City lawyer, has vanished. Julia comes across a love letter from her father to a lady named Mi Mi. This letter is what leads Julia to the little village in Burma. The man who found  her in the cafe, a stranger, soon unravels the story of Tin Tin (Julia’s father) and Mi Mi.

What Julia knows of her father is this: he met and married her mother. Together they have Julia and her sister. Prior to all that, she learns that her father, as a young boy, was blind. He met a girl Mi Mi, who was unable to walk but fell in love with her because he was drawn to her.  Because he could not see, he was not drawn to her because of the way she looked;  it was because he could so clearly hear her heartbeat.

The love story between these two is unbelievable. Tin Tin would carry Mi Mi around on his back. She would be his eyes. She would direct him as he walked, described what he could not see and cared for him more than anyone else had. Tin Tin became Mi Mi’s feet. He was her form of transportation. He carried her on his back-every step of the way. Together these two saw the world unlike anyone else ever had.

You know the love story between these two ended in one way or another. After all, Julia’s father somehow ended up in New York City with sight, working as a lawyer and married to her mother.

While in Burma, Julia tracks her father down and finds out more on his reunion with Mi Mi. That, in itself, is worth the read.  -Quinn

Set in the 1950s, Booker Prize winning author of The English Patient, has written a compelling novel, titled The Cat’s Table.

Based on the experiences of an 11-year-old boy who embarks on a three week voyage on the cruiser “Oronsay” from Colombo to England, Ondaatje’s new novel grabbed me just as his Anil’s Ghost (2000), and Divisadero (2007) did.

As an Ondaatje follower, I was quickly reminded again within the first chapter of The Cat’s Table, of this author’s superb ability to grab me with his quiet, reflective, pensive  style.

Soon after the novel opens, the reader learns that the young boy, who tells this story from his point of view, is being sent from Colombo to England to reunite with his mother, whom he has not seen in four years. He is told, in a matter of fact way, that he will cross the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, the Red Sea, and then go through the Suez Canal into the Mediterranean  before he arrives at his small port in England.  Although he does have a “semi” guardian on board the ship, he is not really controlled by her and is given a top bunk in a suite where a middle age bunk mate holds nightly bridge parties. The protagonist does enjoy the periodic company of Emily, a seventeen year old beauty, whom he knew in Colombo.

By the end of the first day, Michael learns that he has been assigned to Table 76, the “Cat’s Table”  in the dining room, the table farthest away from the Captain’s Table, which is reserved for the” insignificants” aboard. It is here that Michael meets two slightly older boys who become his friends, confidants, and pre-adolescent “partners in crime“. What these boys witness during the three week voyage–adult romances, the exotic  living garden hidden in the ship’s dark hold, a trapeze artist  performance, a shackled prisoner’s nightly parading, and even a possible murder–make the three week trip one which the narrator will reflect upon for his lifetime. What Ondaatje holds up in this book are two non-touchable human abilities, the ability of perception versus the ability of memory. Where they reside, overlap, or overrule each other in the impressionable mind of  an 11 year old boy, as he matures into his late twenties,  make this novel the masterpiece that it is, in my opinion.

The novel flashes forward as well as backward, another successful characteristic of  this respected Canadian writer, who was born in Sri Lanka. The lives of the three boys, who were best friends for the voyage, are loosely followed by the narrator, but it is from the point of view of the narrator that the reader begins to piece together the truth, but, of course, his fallible version of the truth. One of my favorite parts of the novel occurs close to the end when the protagonist gets a call from Emily, whom he has not seen for 15 years. As they visit at her Canadian cottage, they rehash some of the major events of the voyage, especially the suspected murder as well as the night the prisoner escaped overboard holding his mute daughter’s hand. Once again, the question or dilemma of memory versus perception comes into play, and this time, diverse emotions do as well.

The Cat’s Table is a cleverly written novel all about how a certain time period in a child’s life can affect him always. Also, the desire to reconnect with those who mutually shared this time takes precedence as well.  As I turned the last page of this novel late last night, I smiled with satisfaction knowing that this renowned author did “it” again and that I can look forward to another novel, hopefully not too far in the future.

To order signed copies, click here.

It’s now out in paperback, too. -August 2012

-Nan

In getting ready for the long-awaited release of 1Q84 on October 25th, I was pleasantly surprised to find evidence of Lemuria-Staff-Past who have also been devoted fans.

Enjoy this review by Catherine, Lemuria Class of 2006. -Lisa

A Wild Sheep Chase is, in many ways, Haruki Murakami’s break-through book. It was his first novel translated into English and his first popular, if not critical, success in Japan.

The book is considered the second episode of his “Rat” trilogy, the first of which is not available in the U.S. and the third being Dance, Dance, Dance. (No fear, the books are only bound by one character, so it not essential to read them in order, or together.) Immensely successful in Japan, A Wild Sheep Chase is a comic combination of disparate styles: a literary mystery, a metaphysical speculation, and an ironic first-person account of an impossible quest. A beach read if Murakami has ever written one.

It begins innocently enough. A Woody-Allen-esque chain-smoking ad executive receives a photograph from a long lost friend and appropriates the image for one of his firm’s promotional posters. But the photo – of an idyllic sheep-populated countryside – is no ordinary scenic view. Rather, it is photographic evidence of an elusive sheep with a star shaped birthmark that (traditionally) brings its owners incredible wealth and power.

Soon, the ad man finds himself hunted by underworld figures who instruct him to find the sheep, or face dire consequences. Armed with a laissez-faire attitude and enigmatically-eared girlfriend, the man sets out on exactly what the title promises.

It is the way Murakami describes everyday oddity (such as the girlfriend with the perfect earlobes) and the way he conveys modern Japan (as a nouveau wonderland with a nameless male “Alice”) that gives the novel its ample charm. A Wild Sheep Chase contains passages of incredible beauty, as well as breathtaking humor, all delivered as intimate author-reader conversation. Like the work itself, Murakami is very hard to compartmentalise. Just when you think you have a handle on his eerie brand of surreal description, he finds a new indulgence. And while this might sound irritating, it proves to be extremely rewarding.

Admittedly, this book is probably not Murakami’s masterpiece (I’ll save that honor for Wind-Up Bird Chronicles or Kafka on the Shore), but it might be his most fun to read. Grab onto this book, get a feel for the world you are about to enter, and read on for greatness.

-Written by Catherine

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For an introduction to Murakami and preview of 1Q84, click here.

Click here to see other blog posts on Murakami.

1Q84 is here.

In getting ready for the long-awaited release of 1Q84 on October 25th, I was pleasantly surprised to find evidence of Lemuria-Staff-Past who have also been devoted fans.

Enjoy this review by Catherine, Lemuria Class of 2006.

One of the more preoccupying themes of Japanese literature in this century has been the question of what it means to be Japanese, especially in an era that has seen the rise and fall of militarism and the decline of traditional culture; but from reading the books of Haruki Murakami, one of the country’s most celebrated novelists, you’d never know he was Japanese at all: his characters read Turgenev and Jack London, listen to Rossini and Bob Dylan, eat pate de foie gras and spaghetti, and know how to make a proper salty dog.

In Murakami’s early books, the references to Western pop culture were sometimes so obscure that they even flew over the heads of many Americans. Murakami’s protagonists are soft, irresolute men, often homebodies with dynamic girlfriends or wives, who go through long, inert periods of ennui — a blatant renunciation of the frenetic, male-dominated ethos of modern Japan. Breaking with his own tradition, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is Murakami’s attempt to not only glimpse at Japanese-ness, but to use a very wide lens.

This is a big, ambitious book clearly intended to establish Murakami as a major figure in world literature. Although his earlier books bristle with philosophical asides and literary allusions (Western, mainly), most critics treated him as a lightweight, a wise guy who never took anything seriously. Wind-Up Bird Chronicle almost self-consciously deals with a wide spectrum of heavy subjects: the transitory nature of romantic love, the evil vacuity of contemporary politics and, most provocative of all, the legacy of Japan’s violent aggression in World War II. But it all begins with a man losing his cat. Then his wife. (Then his mind?)

Focusing some of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle’s best chapters on the occupation of Manchukuo and the consequent border skirmishes with Russia and the Mongols, Murakami seizes upon a sense of collective guilt as cause of personal Japanese confusion. The Manchukuo passages are absolutely dazzling; the prose crisp and the visuals epic. The narrative leaps from 1930s Manchuria to 1980s Japan – with comparative stints spent in downtown Tokyo and Siberia.

The transitory nature of the book, to me, was one of the most intriguing elements of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Yes, it is a big book, but one that is constantly changing. At times, I felt so far away from the original premise that I wondered if I was still reading the same book at all; oddly enough, instead of feeling muddled by the development of the book, I felt refreshed, glad to be always moving; leaving characters and plot lines behind; going deeper into the rabbit hole.

Many regard Wind-Up Bird Chronicle as Murakami’s masterpiece and I would be inclined to agree. The experience of reading this book is absolutely mesmerizing — and utterly indescribable, so perhaps I will stop trying to explain. Instead, I will say that Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and the resulting reading experience is its own reward. Trust me: It’s a beautiful mind bender.

Written by Catherine (Lemuria 2006)

For an introduction to Murakami and preview of 1Q84, click here.

Click here to see other blog posts on Murakami.

1Q84 is here.

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Some years ago I met Tom in the fiction room and eventually we discovered that we both loved Murakami. We have had many conversations about books we love, but none so enthusiastic as the ones on Murakami. In all the anticipation for 1Q84, I asked Tom if he would like to join our blog series on Haruki Murakami. -Lisa

Here’s what Tom has to say:

The spring semester of my junior year of college was – without question – my worst. Within a stretch of about two weeks, Cancer forced itself into my family and Murder pointlessly ended the life of one of my dearest friends. Even now, the weeks and months that followed are blurry at best.

That summer, I discovered Murakami.

The nominal purpose of the summer was to conduct research for my thesis, but – whether it was clear to me or not at the time – the summer also served to remove me from a world that made no sense and whose foundations no longer seemed stable. Though I wasn’t aware of it, the financial crisis happened that summer, too.

I picked up Kafka on the Shore in a bookstore in D.C. – drawn by the back cover’s promise of talking cats, fish falling from the sky and prophecies. That summer, I needed – and more importantly, needed to believe in – all those things.

And, what Murakami gave me that summer was solace in chaos. Peace in grief. Life in absurdity. Constancy in change. Hope in loss.

I needed another world – perhaps where cats talk or soldiers never age – as an escape, and Kafka on the Shore – every time I read it on a subway or in a café – delivered.

It’s not very often – for me, at least – that books make me wholeheartedly want to live in the world that is described within them, but Murakami’s books did and still do that to me. They are stories where the journey is more important than the ending. And where the ending doesn’t always make sense. Where our questions – not the answers, necessarily – matter most.

But more important than my own personal experience with Murakami is how your experience will be. I envy everyone who has never picked him up before. I envy the discoveries that you’ll make and the characters that will speak to you – who maybe never spoke to me. I envy your first dive into a world where things are not as they seem – and where everything in this world, even for just a moment – seems possible, and dare I say, magical all over again.

1Q84 is on sale today!

Click here to see all of Haruki Murakmai’s books.

Click here to see other blog posts on Murakami.

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Within the past year Haruki Murakami has become one of my favorite writers. I’d like to take up a little space on this blog to tell you about him and maybe win you over on his behalf.

Murakami is a Japanese writer (his works, both fiction and nonfiction, live in the foreign fiction section here at Lemuria), who has gained a great deal of international acclaim over the years for novels like Norwegian Wood, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Kafka on the Shore.  He’s one of the only Japanese writers to gain a loyal following in the United States, and in Japan his novels have made him into something of a celebrity. Not being a fan of his fame, Murakami exiled himself for a few years and has allowed few interviews (I was only able to find five when I was researching for this blog).

Part of Murakami’s success in America may come from the fact that stylistically his novels are Western.  He explains his style choices in a 2004 interview with the Paris Review:

“When I was 29, I just started to write a novel out of the blue. I wanted to write something, but I didn’t know how.  I didn’t know how to write in Japanese—I’d read almost nothing of the works of Japanese writers—so I borrowed the style, structure, everything, from the books I had read—American books or Western books.”

Though the structure of his writing may be familiar to those of us who are fans of Western European and American literature, Murakami’s themes and stories are all his own. He has a talent for churning out fantasy/sci-fi mixed with serious philosophical and moral questionings.   I have never before encountered an author who writes so elegantly about the kinds of strange events that pop up in Murakami’s novels and short stories.  I’ve discovered dancing dwarves, psychic prostitutes, girls who willingly fall into the role of sleeping beauties, and alternate universes entered through sleep and deep wells in abandoned lots. Yet as magical as his worlds are, Murakami’s protagonists are level-headed and calmly take on their fantastical encounters with amusement and intelligence.

I never tire of the recurring themes in Murakami’s works. Whenever I’m in a reading slump, I put down everything else and dive into one of his novels.  I’ve read three of them already since January (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, After Dark and Norwegian Wood) and I have three more waiting on my shelves.

But besides being a wonderful fiction writer, Haruki Murakami is just an interesting guy, who has managed to achieve quite a lot in his lifetime.  Below I’ve listed some fun facts about Murakami, so you can get a sense of what he’s all about:

• Before becoming a writer Murakami opened the coffeehouse/jazz bar named Peter Cat with his wife.
• Murakami is a marathon runner and a triathlete (He has written a book on the subject of running called What I Talk About When I Talk About Running).
• In 2006 he won the Franz Kafka prize for Kafka on the Shore.
• In addition to being a writer Murakami works as a translator. He has translated the works of Raymond Carver, J.D. Salinger, Truman Capote and F. Scott Fitzgerald into Japanese—many of which are the first translations to ever be available in Japanese.
• Murakami served as the writing fellow for both Princeton and Tufts University.
• Murakami received an honorary doctorate from Princeton in 2008.
• When he won the Jerusalem Prize in 2009, Murakami attended the ceremony (despite the public’s threats to boycott his work) and gave a speech to Israeli dignitaries criticizing Israel’s policies (concerning the recent bombing of Gaza).

Interesting guy, huh? I can’t get enough of his work and have seen information about there possibly being a new book being published in the U.S. sometime this year.  Needless to say I can’t wait.

Do you have any writers that you simply can’t enough of? If so, please share.  -Kaycie

You can read the entirety of the Paris Review interview I cited here.

This blog was originally published March 12, 2011.

1Q84 is on sale today! Click here to reserve your copy.

Click here to see all of Haruki Murakmai’s books.

Click here to see other blog posts on Murakami.

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Teaser courtesy of A. A. Knopf.

1Q84 is coming October 25th. Click here to reserve your copy.

Click here to see all of Haruki Murakmai’s books.

Click here to see other blog posts on Murakami.

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