Killing Commendatore: A novel

The older I get, the more sure I am that the books that stick with you the longest are the ones that enter into your life when you need them. If you read a masterpiece of literature in the wrong head space it won't resonate, but you could read a dime novel at the right time and it stays with you foreverMurakami is a strange author. He is a master of creating odd, leisurely novels full of arms length self analysis and deep undercurrents of emotion. Everything feels important, but also distant. Like a dream. In that way most of his works have sort of blurred together for me, mixing his favorite writing ingredients together in different recipes but ultimately not sticking to me at all once I put the book down.Killing Commendatore is the first book of his that has stuck with me since the very first of his I read, long ago. Most probably because it entered my life at the right time. The novel you see is, on it's face, a haunted house story. An unnamed portrait artist separates from his wife and moves into an isolated house in the mountains near Odwara. The house was owned by a famous aging artist of Japanese style works who is now ill and in hospice. It is full of secrets, hidden paintings, mysterious histories dating back to WWII, lost shrines, ghostly specters and bells.But more critically, the story is not about the house at all. It is about transition points. When a comfortable life going in one direction is suddenly shaken and send adrift, and how a new path is forged from that murky uncertainty by grappling through the darkness. That is the core of the story, and Murakami lands that in every way that matters. It was the sort of story I was ready for in my own life to read, and it's one reason the story stuck with me so well despite it's flaws.And there are flaws aplenty. While Murakami manages to almost every mystery up, the novel is a bit over long and something parts gets repetitive. It has the usual and unfortunate Murakami obsession with woman's breasts and poorly written love scenes, as well as his tendency to drift a bit too much into the metaphorical in his ideas that leave a few plot points not connecting with total satisfaction. That being said, the core stories of the haunted house and the man in the middle of a turning point in his life all landed for me, and this is one story of his that will stick with me for a long time.

Killing Commendatore is Murakami, through and through. Weird events are treated as almost matter-of-fact; an encounter with a 2-foot tall man dressed in traditional Japanese garb is unusual, but nothing to get too worked up about. A deadly serious tone punctuated with occasional humor makes you wonder if the whole thing’s a joke. Characters are grounded in their love for music, with detailed references to operas, jazz, and pop songs. Bursts of sexuality help define them and shift gears in the plot. The main character is nearly isolated from the world, forced to confront his problems alone. Despite the strict adherence to form, this story had me hooked. I can never figure out the rules of the world in a Murakami book, but somehow this doesn’t frustrate, and instead propels me onwards.In this installment, a portrait artist separates from his wife and moves in to the isolated house of an elderly artist, Tomohiko Amada, currently hospitalized with dementia (“he doesn’t know the difference between an opera and a frying pan”). The nameless narrator decides to buckle down and rededicate himself to art. He has a rough time of it, until he discovers a previously unknown painting from the famous former resident. Suddenly, life starts moving faster for the narrator - the story weaves together the parallel tales of his life, his wealthy and mysterious neighbor Menshiki, and Amada, each defined by the broken relationships in their lives. The narrator uses his art as a means of sorting out these issues, and explores how Amada may have done the same.I like the subtlety of this book. The narrator is hurt by losing his wife, but doesn’t really understand his own emotions. We dive deep on his thoughts about art and what it means to him. He recognizes that traditional portraiture isn’t the stuff of modern artistic legends; he values his work, while still wondering about doing more avant-garde pieces. The magical elements of the story are reined in just enough to keep them from being overwhelming. The characters often seem unrealistic - dialog isn’t natural, plot points can be logically ridiculous, some characters (especially a key 13 year old girl) seem contrived. I don’t think these are dealbreakers for enjoyment. The novel defines a world that isn’t exactly ours, and it works on its own terms.

Another masterpiece from Haruki Murakami. I wish it did not end or maybe a part 2 will be good too