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IN THE 1980S THE JAPANESE ECONOMY WAS BOOMING. Japan loomed in the world's and its own imagination as an unstoppable economic machine. To many, Japan was a suitable model for economic and social development: the economy was great, schools were good, and violence nearly nonexistent. Its successes were spoken of in almost Utopian, terms (though occasionally as an economic threat not to be ignored). Some negative aspects of Japanese society were even spun as positives, internally and abroad. And in Japan, many seemed supremely confident as they viewed the future. Perhaps however, their bravado masked ambivalence about society's direction.
By then, Haruki Murakami had been writing for almost ten years. His debut novel, Hear the Wind Sing (1979), had won the prestigious Gunzö Newcomers Award and captured the hearts of readers with its quirky characters Rat and J, lively language, and bittersweet portrayal of the collapse of the radical student movement after 1969. Subsequent works, like A Wild Sheep Chase (1982) and Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (1985), had also struck a popular chord, though not necessarily with many old-guard critics of the literary establishment, who dismissed Murakami's work as faddish, uninspired, or lacking political heft. Nevertheless, readers found something to relate to in Murakami's fiction and his popularity soared. His work seemed to capture the sense of disillusionment, disconnection, and confusion that lingered close to a placid surface even during halcyon days. In recent works, Murakami no longer seems content to simply capture these feelings; rather, he attempts to explore their origins and demands greater engagement from his still somewhat passive characters.
Murakami's characters appear content, though they are portrayed ironically. They commute to ordinary jobs, drink whiskey and beer, and listen to American music. Solitary creatures, they shut out the world with psychological barriers and self-imposed isolation. Nothing is obviously wrong with their lives, but something is amiss. Many try to fill their only vaguely sensed longing through mindless repetitive action and consumerism, not realizing that what they believe to be "identity" is largely a by-product of ideology that supports the interests of the state and capitalism. Then something traumatic rattles their complacency, triggering a quest in which they struggle to plumb the deep wells of personal and cultural memory...