Word Salad Nothing Burger

Whose Mind is it Anyways? - Kafka on the Shore Analysis

Recently I've finished Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. I really liked it! But I can also see why a lot of people really don't care for it.

It's a good book if you like psychoanalysis; long, winding metaphors; and mysterious old guys. Though it's not for everyone.

This book is full of mysteries, and every time one is solved or progressed, we learn a little bit more about the characters' ways of thinking and being. The women in the story aren't written as characters so much as they're written to be little mysteries. That, coupled with the book's emphasis on the protagonist's complicated sexual feelings toward these women, leaves the female characters feeling painfully, even offensively, flat. I get why anyone wouldn't like the book for this reason.

Another critique I've seen online is how the book is "fake deep." To this point, I would disagree. It's a story full of dream-like sequences and unexplained coincidences, some of which seem to have no bearing on the plot after the fact. And for sure it can come off like the author just wanted to use some weird imagery at times -- and maybe he did -- but I don't see that as a weakness. I still believe even the most disjointed moments in the novel are intentional and are meant to make you reflect on the symbolism.

I see Kafka primarily as a book about dreams, the images conjured by the unconscious mind, and how these imaginings can unearth our repressed values and desires, which is at once tortuous and freeing (hopefully in that order).

Like I said, it's a weird book that kinda defies explanation. That said, I wanted to provide my interpretation of the themes and events in this book. That said, this post does presume you've read the book already, so expect both spoilers and lack of major plot details. I'm also down to update this post if anyone who reads it wants me to elaborate on anything I've said.

Everything is metaphor

Not literally, though. Early on, Oshima and Kafka have a conversation where they pretty much agree that much of life is metaphorical. A good example is how Oshima compares the winding intestines of a person to a labyrinth, suggesting that this imagery is meant to compare the resolving of one's inner conflicts with finding the end of a maze. This idea is recalled toward the end of the novel when Kafka literally proceeds to the centre of labyrinth where he ultimately resolves his arc. I think this example is kind of spelled out for us so as to improve our interpretation of the story's logic: taking metaphorical actions yields literal results.

For another example: Miss Saeki compiles her entire life's story into a bunch of files and then requests that they be burned. This metaphorical burning of her memories results in her ghost actually losing her memories.

In other words, metaphors (and language overall) are almost like their own force in this story. They are as fundamental to the universe's mechanics as gravity is to ours. If something is metaphorically true in Kafka on the Shore, chances are it's also literally true.

It's my belief following this logic is key to "solving" some of the book's mysteries. I say "solving" because I don't think some of these questions have concrete answers - the ambiguity is the point. However, I do think applying this metaphor logic wraps up some of the more pressing questions in satisfying ways.

Psychoanalytic theory

Psychoanalytic theory involves understanding one's unconscious motives for their behaviour. It often employs the use of metaphors to illustrate the relationship between the unconscious and conscious mind.

At the root of Kafka's conflict is Kafka's underlying fear of his Oedipal Curse. The Oedipus curse comes from the play Oedipus Rex, which is about a king who kills his father and sleeps with his mother after a chain reaction of actions taken to prevent exactly that.

The term "Oedipus complex," coined by psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud, was inspired by this play. It refers to Freud's theory that unconsciously children develop the desire to sleep with their opposite gender parent and "eliminate the competition" through killing their same-gender parent. (It's worth noting that Freud likely developed the Oedipus complex theory in response to his discomfort with his initial theory, that repressed memories of child abuse causes traumatic symptoms later in life.)

Carl Jung, another psychoanalytic theorist, believed that people each had a persona and a shadow, the former being the more openly expressed aspects of the self, and the latter being the repressed self, which is often associated with perceived negative or shameful qualities. Important for this discussion, Jung's belief about the persona and shadow could be explained as merging them together for the sake of a more holistic self.

Throughout the book, Kafka feels responsible for things that happen in his dreams, as he believes they are representative of his true intentions. The depth of his Jungian shadow is unknown to him and that scares him.

Another idea from Carl Jung is that of "archetypes." Jung argues that every person is born with pre-conceived notions of certain ideas, ones we've inherited from our ancestors and so on. Commonly discussed archetypes include the mother, the hero, the child, the wise old man, and the trickster (but as far as I can tell, there isn't a set number of archetypes).

If we take this lens, we get some interesting ideas about what the book is trying to say about through these characters. Murakami could be using these characters as a means to subvert our common associations with these archetypes, which might be a little idealistic.

Miss Saeki could be seen as a play on the mother archetype, only instead of being nurturing and warm like Jung might assume, we get a critical (maybe in some cases, more relatable) take on mothers being cold, distant, and burdened by the past. Kafka might be a play on the child archetype, except our instincts to associate him with a bright curiosity are subverted by his chronic uncertainty. Nakata rather than fitting the mold of the traditional idea of a wise old man, is constantly confused, passive, and asks for guidance rather than providing it.

The rest of this analysis doesn't depend on Jungian archetypes, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

Cultural Allusions

Early on, we are introduced to another Greek allegory, Aristophanes's conception of love from Plato's Symposium. In it, we hear that each "person" was actually two people, before the Gods (or in Kafka, God) separated them into individuals. From this point on, we get the impression that some characters are not whole, or at least not wholly themselves. It's unclear, but it's implied Nakata and Miss Saeki, who literally cast lighter shadows, are missing a piece of their spirit. Kafka, on the other hand, open talks with an alter ego, the boy named Crow, who seemingly acts like a separate entity at times. Just keep this in mind for now.

More Greek imagery comes in the form of katabasis or the descent into the underworld. We see this in famous myths like the story of Orpheus and Eurydice and the story of Psyche. It's also a common theme in non-Greek stories, such as Dante's Inferno. It involves a hero crossing into the afterlife, usually to make some sort of deal. In this novel, we see Kafka do something similar as he ventures deep into the forest maze to end up the ghost village. Similar to Orpheus, Kafka is also told not to look back when leaving the labyrinth.

Lastly, I think it's worth going over some of the ways Japanese culture and history might play into this story's symbolism. I'm not really and expert in this field, and I'm certain a lot of these ideas came from other people's analyses, so I'll be brief. If I can find the comments I originally found these ideas from, I'll cite them here.

But again, I'm nowhere near an expert on Japanese history or culture, but I'd be remiss to not mention this angle.

Now, I'm going to try to address what I think are some of the big mysteries of the novel.

My answer: biologically, no. Metaphorically, yes.

So, yes?

Kafka asks this question frequently, sometimes to himself and sometimes to Miss Saeki. He (and we) never gets a straight answer, with the closest one being "You know the answer."

Kafka's reasoning is that Miss Saeki once interviewed people who were struck by lightning, which could have included his father, and is about the age his mother would be. Additionally, his chosen alias is Kafka, which happens the same, actual name Miss Saeki's lover had, could be a coincidence, or it could have been derived from a long-lost memory of someone his mother used to love.

But I don't think this is the case.

I personally don't believe Kafka had ever interacted with Sakura or Miss Saeki prior to the occasions we see in the book. Our earliest impression of Kafka is that his father's curse is at the forefront of his mind, hence why he connects every older woman to potentially being his sister or mother, and though they left him at a young age, I find it difficult to believe they wouldn't recognize Kafka.

But still, that's beside the point. We're not supposed to worry about whether Kafka actually slept with his biological family, but instead we're supposed to ask another question: why is Kafka so obsessed with this curse?

Obviously, it's because it's gross and scary and he wants to avoid it (keep in mind, he can avoid this by not sleeping with anyone around the age of his mother or older sister). But it's about way more than that. Despite his nonchalance to his abandonment, Kafka both misses his mother and sister, and resents them for leaving him with his dad.

Late in the novel, when Kafka speaks to Miss Saeki's adult ghost, she implies she also abandoned a child at one point. Because of this, she and Kafka share a trauma that both of them have no way of getting reprieve from - Kafka has no way of finding his mother; Miss Saeki has no means of seeking forgiveness from whoever she abandoned. In this way, they are parallel mother and son. In asking for her metaphorical son's forgiveness, she can be literally forgiven, and in forgiving his metaphorical mother, he can finally let go of this trauma.

I believe Miss Saeki refuses to confirm whether she is Kafka's biological mother because it would sever this connection. If she tells him she is certain that they are not mother and son, it changes the dynamic of their relationship (they become strangers or friends) and removes their capacity to forgive/be forgiven as child and parent.

Obviously, the ethics justification for this is dubious, but we'll keep things strictly analytical today.

Sakura, of course, follows the same logic. Sakura and Miss Saeki never interact in the book, nor do they ever speak of each other, casting further doubt they have any relation let alone knowledge of each other. Of course, with Miss Saeki's withdrawnness, it's possible she and Sakura are just not on speaking terms, but again, there's no evidence for this one way or the other.

Kafka is a lonely, neurotic kid, and Sakura grounds him in a way an older sibling would do. By the end of the novel, he is less guilt-ridden and apprehensive of interpersonal relationships, hence why he reaches out to Sakura as a sister - he is open to receiving her support.

Is Kafka Nakata? Is Kafka Miss Saeki's late lover? Is Kafka Crow?

My answer: I think so. Probably not. I think so.

Or in other words, I think Crow is Miss Saeki's late lover.

But let's start from the beginning.

We'll discuss the Kafka-Nakata connection in the next section, because I think that mystery is more closely related to Johnnie Walker.

Let's focus on Kafka Tamura, Kafka Komura (Miss Saeki's ex-lover), and Crow.

Throughout the book, Kafka T. relies on Crow for emotional support. It's presented almost like it's a separate personality or a persona Kafka created, but there are times where Kafka reaches out to Crow and he's not available, like he's not necessarily restricted to Kafka's mind. Most of Kafka's chapters are in first-person POV, but sometimes we get this weird, bolded text where the POV switches to second-person. It is implied this is Crow speaking from his POV in Kafka's body. The longest instance of this text occurs when Kafka and Miss Saeki walk along the shore from the titular painting, the one that depicted Kafka Komura. Crow speaks very intimately here to the point where I'm confident in saying this is a shade of Kafka K. reliving an evening with his long-lost lover.

How did this happen then? I don't know. The spirit world mechanisms in this book are the hardest part for me. But I have a suggestion.

Miss Saeki is the only other person than Nakata who is described as having a lighter shadow. This, coupled by the fact that she is distinct from the ghost of her 15-year-old self, seems to indicate that she made some sort of trade in which "half" of Kafka K. could come back to the living world in exchange for something like her happiest memories. This would recall the katabasis imagery we spoke about earlier.
I also think Crow is representative of 15-year-old Kafka K., also at his and Miss Saeki's happiest. This is why he's always considered a "boy."

(Side note: I think this 15-year-old Miss Saeki ghost is who the older Miss Saeki is talking about when she says she once abandoned somebody - if this seems inconsistent with my argument that this abandonment was crucial to her and Kafka's parent-child dynamic, I wouldn't disagree, but I'd maybe argue that her 15 y/o self can be conceived as her child in a way.)

This still doesn't explain why/how Crow is bonded to Kafka T. My theory is that Crow actually isn't. I think as a wandering spirit, he chooses to follow Kafka around. Hence why he isn't always around when Kafka needs him, and why he was seemingly able to go to the spirit world alone to confront Johnnie Walker. Why does he choose to be around Kafka? Well, I think it's because Kafka's father is Johnnie Walker somehow, and Crow wants to keep an eye on him.

Kafka T. chooses his alias because of the author he likes. I think he also chose, subconsciously or not, because Kafka means "crow" and Crow is his closest friend.

From a metaphorical standpoint, Kafka T. can be considered the spiritual child of Kafka K. in that they share the same not dissimilarly to how boys may be named Juniors of their fathers. Through Kafka, Crow is able to reconcile with Miss Saeki as partner and partner.

What's up with Johnnie Walker? What's the deal with Nakata?

My answer: buckle up.

Johnnie Walker is easily the most confusing story element of a book full of confusing story elements, so let's recap:

You see? It's a lot of disparate elements.

I think it's best to approach this mystery by applying what we know about story structure.

JW is the closest thing we have to a villain in this story. There is no other character who attempts to force the protagonists to do something they don't want to do. The only other antagonistic force is Kafka's father, who doesn't appear in the book outright.

Given the coincidence of their deaths, and their similarly evil vibes, I think it's safe to say that Johnnie Walker is at least analogous to Kafka's dad.

Koichi Tamura predicted - or threatened - that Kafka would sleep with his mother and sister and kill him, his father. We know that, metaphorically, this first prediction came to pass. Kafka had sexual experiences with people who took the place of his mother and sister. However, we also know he didn't kill his father; Nakata did.

This prophecy, coupled with the more explicit scene where Kafka wakes up covered in blood, would suggest that Nakata and Kafka are spiritually linked, or in this interpretation, metaphorically the same.

This makes sense if we consider their parallel traits. Both are naive, innocent characters who hold themselves to high ethical standards. They both share a fear that their lack of something is inhibiting them. For Nakata, it's his knowledge that he is not spiritually whole. For Kafka, it's the fear that he is secretly morally bankrupt. For Nakata and Kafka, Johnnie Walker and Koichi Tamura represent the same fear: hurting others the way that they've been hurt.

In killing Johnnie Walker, albeit forcibly, Nakata inherits this "curse," this idea that he is capable of harm. There's almost like this Garden of Eden quality to it. He commits a "sin" and loses the ability to talk to cats, almost like he endured a fall from grace.

Except Johnnie Walker isn't really dead. He persists as a spirit, unable to be directly harmed.

Again, it's a little vague, but it seems like JW wants to access the spirit world somehow through the stone. At one point it seems like he's already in the spirit world, when Crow attacks him.

I'm waffling a little bit, but here's my take: JW represents a sort of death, maybe even specifically suicidal ideation. Which, let me be abundantly clear, is not to say that death or suicide are inherently evil in nature. However, I think a major theme of this story is learning to live beyond grief, guilt, shame, and longing. We see a lot of characters subtly fiddle with the idea of suicide and self-harm, sometimes metaphorically and sometimes literally. Oshima, for example, drives recklessly so as to claim a power over death, but still risks his life. At times, Kafka and Miss Saeki talk about death almost like an escape. Arguably, the entire final sequence, in which Kafka visits essentially the afterlife and must decide whether to stay or return to the land of the living, is an allegory for him contemplating death but ultimately choosing life (with the encouragement of his support system).

In this sense, I see Johnnie Walker as the manifestation of the call-to-the-void. This mental call to death. It persists in Nakata until after he dies, at which it tries to make its way to the entrance stone. The emergence of the white blob is akin to acknowledging this desire, naming it and bringing it to the external reality, where it can be dealt with. It naturally wants to bury itself in the spirit world, where it can't be discussed and therefore can't be destroyed. Ultimately, it is not an evil creature, it is natural, but that doesn't mean it isn't harmful.

Kafka on the Shore is ultimately a life-affirming novel. One that sees how fear and sadness can alienate us from others, putting us at risk of the dangers of a self-agonizing mind. The solution is spelled out for us in two, parallel ways:

Kafka feels guilty. He carries deep-seated resentments and a desire for revenge. However, he represses these feelings. Only in venturing deep into his mind and accepting them (not alone, but with the support of multiple lifelines), can he let go of this guilt and move forward.

Nakata feels burdensome. He wants to be independent, but he can't, and this frustrates and embarrasses him. However, in his twilight days he continues to seek out a purpose, accepting that he is inherently valuable despite his incapabilities. Importantly, it is Hoshino and his support for Nakata that helps Nakata unlearn the idea that he is a burden.

Conclusion

I'll repeat it: there's no correct answer to any of the mysteries in this story. I personally believe there's an internal logic to the way things work, namely that language is another law of physics in this universe, one that has the power to contort reality to make comparisons real.

The real reason Kafka runs away is because he is afraid of life. He wants reassurance that he won't make fatal mistakes. During his time in Shikoku, he learns that reality is entirely subjective; the truth can manifest in more than one way. And through this perspective, he realizes he still retains agency over his life.

....

If you read this far, thank you! I really enjoyed this book, and it was fun for me to dissect it and research a lot of the allusions it made. I'd love to keep talking about it so if you agree, disagree, or have any questions or comments, please feel free to email me at waterwedoingforever@gmail.com