In 1Q84, the Japanese writer Haruki Murakami tells the story of a freelance assassin and an aspiring writer as they slowly become entangled with a sinister religious cult and the mysterious supernatural beings the cult worships.
Murakami sets his book in a parallel world that resembles 1984 Tokyo, except for the presence of two moons in the sky. (The title of the novel is a reference to this other world, with a “Q” that stands for “question mark” replacing the “9”.)
1Q84 combines elements of fantasy, thriller, and detective stories with questions about the nature, function, and meaning of fiction. The English version, translated by Jay Rubin and Philip Gabriel, was published in the fall of 2011.
Murakami’s novel was widely expected to be a masterwork, but the reception among English speaking reviewers was mixed, with some hailing it as a major work of literature and others seeing it as a 1,200 page novel of no great substance.
I liked 1Q84 more than some of its critics, but I agree with those who think the novel is unlikely to find a permanent place among the world’s great books.
As an entertainment, I thought it was successful. I was never enthralled by the novel, but I did finish reading it, and I found its main actors, Aomame the assassin, and Tengo the writer, well drawn and appealing.
Only one character, however, a grotesque but finally sympathetic private detective name Ushikawa, burned with the convincing life that distinguishes great literary characters from their lesser brothers and sisters.
I also didn’t think all the references to artists, discussion of metaphysical ideas, or the novels-writing-reality and reality-writing-novels tricks (which are at least as old as Andre Gide’s 1895 Paludes), added up to very much.
They seemed more like the kind of fruits and nuts you might throw into a satisfying, but ultimately unremarkable cake, to make it tastier.
Finally, I thought 1Q84 lacked quiddity, lacked that strange and delicate alchemy which makes a novel deeply idiosyncratic on one hand and broadly universal on the other, and which distinguishes great books from merely good ones.
Fans of 1Q84 may offer two substantial objections to these opinions.
The first is that I don’t know if Rubin and Gabriel’s clear and workmanlike translation of 1Q84 reflects Murakami’s work or whether English readers have lost the rhythm and music of the original prose, not to mention the subtle resonances and associations which are particular to different words in different languages, but which are essential to writers of any talent.
To this I can only reply, true. That is a difficulty with any translation.
The second problem is the (reasonable assumption as it turns out) that I am largely unfamiliar with Japanese culture and society.
This means that if Murakami created a metaphorical history of Japan in 1Q84, or included large amounts of sociological comment, or has written significant elements of parody or satire into the novel, the chances are something better than 95% that I don’t get them.
To this I can only reply, also true. But it is a quality of literature that it transcends the time and place of its composition, and speaks powerfully to readers in other places and other times. That 1Q84 falls short on this measure does not make it a bad book. But it doesn’t make it an important one, either.
Peter Galen Massey 
I was initially excited about his Kafka on the Shore. I still remember the stark anticipation I felt every time I would pick it up at the end of the day (I do have a day job haha). Until it started talking about Johnnie Walker and Colonel Sanders. Man, was I mad! You couldn’t be too in your face (post) postmodern after that. I’m sure I missed something there, and I wasn’t his ideal reader–s/he hasn’t been born yet, etc.etc. but I was truly, and irretrievably, lost. 😦
But you are right. Translation has something to do with it probably. I don’t know. But right now, I feel Murakami’s a lover I hated to part with, but go he must!
As a 45-year Japan resident and fluent Japanese speaker/reader/writer, I can say that translation has nothing to do with it: Murakami’s novels are in fact generally better in English. His main translators are very resourceful. This is particularly true of “Kafka”–typically pointless and improbable title. It is improbable precisely because Murakami’s writing is just not very Japanese to being with. HIs language is never beautiful or even original. Some characters are well-drawn, however: e.g. Hoshino in “Kafka”. Murakami will never be another Nabokov–but then neither will most other writers, especially not the so-called ‘postmoderns’. Once you have experienced the best, nothing else will do. (I drive a Porsche Cayman S, although cars offer a wider legitimate choice than novelists.) History will show that Murakami is OK, but not great: OK as a serial-writer for Japanese women’s magazines, perhaps…
Thanks for the comment, JAF. I came late enough to the hype for 1Q84 that I asked myself, What am I missing? As you saw, I asked myself the same question once I was done with the book.
Thank you, PGM, for your kind note.
I should add to my rather hasty comments appended to your very well-considered overview of 1Q84. Having finished the book yesterday, I must admit to a sense of deprivation. It was a lot of fun while it lasted. The main characters–as so often in Murakami’s writing–were very well drawn. It could even be said that they draw the reader into them, even in the case of the physically off-putting Ushikawa.
In addition to characterisation, the plot is very well put together–even though Murakami has to turn round occasionally to remind the reader what is happening. Perhaps that is inevitable due to the complexity involved.
I suppose my impressions of Murakami have been rather biased From using one of his favourite short stories (“Neji-maki dori to kayôbi no onna-tachi”)–yes, the tale about the “Windup Bird” in a university Japanese to English translation class for over a decade. That story, from the late 80s, is steeped in the “suburban anomie” which characterises some of Murakami’s earlier work. But it would be unfair to judge the major novels on the basis of a single short story from that era.
Having tried to write fiction in Japanese myself, one thing that worries me about Murakami’s work is its apparent lack of spiritual depth. Certainly that is characteristic of the character-types and physical places–which are so familiar to me–that appear in the book. It was interesting, therefore, to find so many references to religion in 1Q84. To quote from a newspaper (Die Zeit) interview with Murakami which I think dates from early last year:
“I am not religious. I only believe in the power of imagination. And the fact that there isn’t only one reality. The real world and another, unreal world exist at the same time, they are strongly connected. Sometimes they overlap, blend. And if I want, if I concentrate a lot, I can cross the border. I can come and go. That is what’s happening in my books. That’s the point. My stories take place on one side, then the other, and I don’t even recognize the difference anymore.”
Is it just me, or is this typically obfuscating? (Is it because the interview was conducted in English?) Perhaps, in the case of 1Q84, the references to religion may be explained as follows. It seems clear enough that the “Little People” belong to the Murakami world of the imagination, into which both Aomame and Tengo are transported. It was interesting to find, therefore, that–despite his above-quoted protestation–in the real world there is a God with a capital G, to whom Aomame appeals in prayer at least twice. Near the end of the book, she “realised she believed in God”. This is of course partly because she had to protect the “little one” inside her. Then there is the apparently misquoted maxim from Carl Jung’s stone sanctuary: “… God is present”. The playful nature of this quote may be intentionally designed to undercut the status of the God to whom Aomame appeals. However, if we ignore the playfulness, and accept the quote in context at face value, then it could denote the same God as the one to whom Aomame appeals. So has Murakami “got religion”? Certainly he is at a stage in life when that sometimes happens… Do I now have to turn round and read ‘Colourless Tsukuru’ in order to try and find out? No wonder this writer is a million-seller…
Hi RAF. Thanks for the thoughtful comment! I really don’t have the background to answer the question about Murakami and religion. I haven’t read any of his other books; I can’t recall reading any interviews with him; and I didn’t read 1Q84 with a particular eye on its religious aspects. The best I can do is say that religions tend to state that there is a different / higher / greater / truer reality behind the material world we experience through our senses and understand through minds and that these realities have beings in them significantly more powerful than humans who occupy themselves with us one way or another. That sorta sounds like 1Q84 but whether the similarities get all the way to proving Murakami is religious or believes in God, I’m not sure. I’d be inclined to take Murakami at his word if he says he is not religious. He may not be telling us, or himself, the full truth, but he seems like the person most qualified to tell us what he really thinks. Best! PGM