Kafka on the Shore - a review?

It took three years to join the bandwagon and read Kafka on the Shore. It took even longer to get started on Mr. Murakami. Apparently, he has been 'the-in-thing' for a while now. I discovered him around six months ago, and finally read his stuff four weeks ago (and finished Kafka on the Shore two days ago). Despite the fact that the book is very much sexually charged (which in turn has made me feel sexually depressed - not the best of feelings one can have), it was .. a good read. Here is my take on it (not that anyone cares post-hype).

When a book is translated (in this case from Japanese), you have to wonder how true to the original was the translation. Did the author really mean to be so crude when he referred to the protagonists' privates as his 'cock' or did he actually mean 'penis'. Structurally, there is a huge difference between the two words- the mood, the vibe changes quite dramatically depending on which word you choose. That's something I will never know unless I became fluent in Japanese and read the actual version. (In fact, the sibling is becoming fluent in Japanese, and I have a feeling that this is actually pushing out all the algebra out of her brain - it happens!).

Mr. Murakami is well-read and you don't need to Wikipedia to tell you that. Yes, I know everyone has heard of the Oedipus Complex and everyone has their own take on Freud and almost everyone is street-smart about their German Philosopher Nietzsche - which makes this book so wonderfully readable. Thanks largely to contemporary literature era it's alright to make constant references to other diverse (and sometimes pretentious) fields. Murakami tells us about his take on Bach, Beethoven, Schumann, the Greek tragedies - almost every page has his interpretation on .. something someone else has done and said. I Googled (Google has come so far that we've turned it into a verb - that is true accomplishment!) Murakami, and this is precisely why people (critics, general public) love him and why I'm a few inches short of loving him.

I have to admit it's a great literary tool, something I automatically do in my own .. dabble into words. I realise how pretentious I sound.

I've written nothing about the book so far and dare call this a review? This is where critics come in handy- they always have just the right words. To put it in plain words .. I've read very few books where the progression and 'unraveling' has been handled so delicately well. It would be wonderful (I assume) to make love to Kafka.. no, actually it would be wonderful to have him dream that he is making love to me (but we won't go into any details on how he rapes his sister in his dreams).