Classic Book Reviews: Meet the classic contemporary novels that deeply resonate with the Artraiders team.
Book: A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami. Reviewed by Shaun Morgan.
Murakami has a singular way of reeling you in, starting with the utterly mundane before slowly, almost imperceptibly, turning the dial towards the truly bizarre. A Wild Sheep Chase is no exception. It begins with the most unassuming of premises: a nameless advertising executive, recently divorced, adrift in the quiet hum of his post-marital, pre-meaningful life. He’s the quintessential Murakami protagonist – a young man, often in his 30s, navigating a quiet existence punctuated by jazz, spaghetti, and a growing sense of placelessness, much like Toru Okada in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle or Tsukuru Tazaki in Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. But then, as is always the case with Murakami, a single, anomalous element is introduced. A seemingly innocuous photograph, sent by an old, almost forgotten friend, arrives. A sheep, with a distinct star marking its back, subtly embedded within a bucolic Japanese landscape. Before we know it, a mysterious figure, a shadowy right-wing operative, was in the apartment, his demands veiled but unambiguous: find this sheep or face profound, unspecified consequences.
The plot, from that precise point, is a gentle unspooling into a Lynchian dreamscape, a characteristic descent that Murakami perfects. Unlike the more complex, multi-layered narratives of his later works like 1Q84 or Kafka on the Shore, A Wild Sheep Chase maintains a relatively linear, though increasingly surreal, progression. The protagonist, accompanied by a woman with impossibly beautiful, almost ethereal ears – a detail I couldn’t shake – embarks on a journey that feels less like a conventional quest and more like an unfolding, existential meditation. They travel north, through Hokkaido’s vast, empty spaces, the setting itself mirroring the growing internal emptiness and vastness of the protagonist’s search.
Along the way, they encounter a parade of Murakami’s signature eccentrics: a jaded university professor who once devoted his life to studying the peculiar sheep, now seemingly resigned to a quiet failure; a gruff, laconic hotel owner with an uncanny connection to a legendary “Sheep Man”; and the elusive Sheep Man himself, a creature of unsettling wisdom and existential weariness, who embodies the kind of quiet, mystical profundity found in the various sages and guides throughout Murakami’s bibliography. The search for the sheep isn’t a race against time or a heroic endeavour; it’s a slow, psychological descent into the peculiar underbelly of existence, driven by a logic that feels both absurd and entirely natural within Murakami’s meticulously constructed, yet subtly unhinged, world. The narrative meanders, taking detours into mundane observations or philosophical digressions, echoing the unhurried, almost aimless quality of his prose that often belies the deep currents beneath.
The characters, though often unnamed or defined by a single striking feature, are hauntingly real in their internal landscapes. The protagonist’s detached introspection, his sense of being an observer rather than a participant in his own life, resonates deeply. The ear-model’s quiet self-possession, her blend of vulnerability and practical strength, makes her a compelling, if enigmatic, companion. The Sheep Man’s profound understanding of…well, everything – the weight of history, the nature of influence, the subtle shifts in the cosmic fabric – felt like echoes of my own subconscious, projections of anxieties and desires I hadn’t quite articulated. Their interactions are sparse, often punctuated by long silences or seemingly irrelevant digressions, yet they contribute to a powerful sense of quiet desperation and longing that permeates every page. This sparseness of dialogue, contrasted with the richness of internal monologue, is a hallmark of Murakami’s style, drawing the reader into the characters’ inner worlds.
As for themes, A Wild Sheep Chase is a rich tapestry woven with threads of identity, loss, and the pervasive, often futile, search for meaning in a world that frequently feels devoid of it. The sheep itself becomes a potent, multi-layered symbol: perhaps a lost part of the self, a connection to a forgotten or suppressed past, the embodiment of a parasitic influence, or merely a cosmic joke. Murakami explores the inherent loneliness of modern life, the yearning for genuine connection in a fragmented society, and the unsettling realization that some fundamental questions have no concrete answers, only deeper questions. The journey is internal as much as external, a slow stripping away of facades and comfortable realities until only a raw, uncertain core remains. This exploration of the subconscious, the search for a missing piece, and the blurring of reality and dream are recurring motifs throughout his work, perhaps most vividly explored in Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or the aforementioned Kafka on the Shore.
Murakami’s writing style, even in this relatively early work, is immediately recognizable. The prose is lean, almost clinical, yet it builds an atmosphere thick with unspoken dread and unexpected beauty. His sentences are direct, unburdened by overt metaphor, allowing the surreal elements to land with even greater impact. He often uses simple, evocative imagery – the taste of beer, the sound of rain, the feel of a worn jacket – to ground the increasingly fantastical elements in a relatable reality. There’s a quiet melancholy that permeates the entire experience, a feeling that something important has been mislaid and might never be found again. This melancholic undertone, a wistful longing for something just out of reach, is a consistent thread in his literary tapestry. The ending, typically for Murakami, provides a sense of resolution but not necessarily closure, leaving the reader with lingering questions and a profound shift in perspective.
Reading this book felt like sifting through the forgotten corners of my own mind, uncovering objects I didn’t realise I’d misplaced. It left me with a strange, compelling urge. After I finished A Wild Sheep Chase, I cleaned my home.