A Wild Sheep Chase is the eigth book by Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami. The English translation is by Alfred Birnbaum. I find the fact of it's translation amusing, as Murakami has translated a number of English novels into Japanese. But ability to translate isn't necessarily transitive, I guess.

Muramaki is a celebrity in Japan, to the extent that he lived abroad for several years to gain some privacy. His most famous novel is Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, which I intend to read one of these days. He's been compared to Kafka, and I can see why- he doesn't have Kafka's tragedy or mysticism, but his characters live lives of confusion, and the world pushes them about with no regard to their concerns.

A Wild Sheep Chase is about- well, a lot of things. It's complicated. Our nameless protagonist is 30, half-owner of a small advertising business, just divorced, with a new girlfriend he doesn't understand. His best friend from childhood disappears and sends a couple mysterious letters. His business partner is slipping into alcoholism. He's not depressed, he's just sort of aimless. Life isn't the grand adventure he hoped for after college. His job is good enough, but it doesn't thrill him anymore. He's not sure he wants to keep doing it, but he's not sure he should just up and start over, either.

(See why I identified with this novel?)

Into his life a mystery comes. The assistant to Tokyo's most powerful yakuza boss summons him to make an offer. You see, the narrarator had created an ad a few weeks earlier that used a photo of a bucolic hillside, with sheep. With close inspection, one of the sheep was an anomoly: Japan has relativly few sheep, all accounted for. But this sheep is of a breed never before seen, and it has a peciliar birthmark on the flank. Where is this sheep? Where did it come from? The mobster gives the confused narrarator one month to discover the sheep, with the price of failure an ugly one.

The narrative takes twists and turns, on themes of death, exploration, love, leadership, and sex. The childhoon hometown that's never the same when you come back as an adult. The quiet peaceful small town that's dying as the children all leave. Fun stuff like that.

On the whole, I recommed this novel, but not if you're already feeling depressed.

Posted by: Boviate at 07:58 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The ship has two continually-running movie channels. We don't have a TV in the shop, so I don't watch them very often. Still, last night I wasn't busy for a bit, and I stopped by Maintenance Control, and saw Nathan Fillon onscreen. You know, Mal from Firefly? So I watched for a bit.

He was in a movie called Slither. If you are ever trapped in a room with that movie playing and all you've got is a sharp stick, don't poke your eyes out. Because it's much easier to poke your ears out first, and _then_ poke your eyes out. That movie made my inner child cry. From what I saw, it didn't fall into the "So bad it's funny" category (E.g. Battlefield Earth). It sat solidly in the "Just plain bad" category, like a dog turd stuck to the shoe of the cinematic arts.

Posted by: Boviate at 08:54 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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