Once again we’re indebted to our sage of the near North Mr Joe Blake (esquire) for this rivetting review. We anticipate copies of this novel may be acquired from the local library, newsagent, purveyor of fine books and amongst those who go round in literary circles. Though we hasten to add, being a book gifted with the aura of imagination, wit, eroticism and mystery it will not be found in school libraries, universities or any other institution promoting standardisation, homogenisation and the credo “BELIEVE”.
Killing Commendatore, by Haruki Murakami, Harvill Secker, hardback, 681 pp, rrp $45
Reviewed by Joe Blake
On the night that voters cast their first judgment on his ill-starred and inevitably-short-term government, a terrified Scott Morrison delivered a harangue channelling Haruki Murakami. “We’ll reward those who have a go,” he steamed, face getting redder by the second. “Those who get up early in the morning.” Well, Murakami does just that, but I’m not sure he wants Scomo’s prizes. At 69, he starts writing at 4am each day, keeps it up till lunchtime, then goes for a 10 kilometre run. Despite this Liberal Party attitude, he withdrew from the alternative Nobel this year because it might be “distracting.”
When you finish a Murakami, you might reflect that the tale was a mite complicated. The good thing is, that never occurs while you’re reading. His crystal-clear prose, translated brilliantly, allows you to drift through the story and follow each twist and turn with ease. Just one example of the complications: The Commendatore of the title (Italian for Commander) is a character in the Mozart opera Don Giovanni, who also appears in a painting and comes to life (a 2-foot tall man dressed in medieval costume) as an Idea. The said painting is a representation of a plot (by the artist and his friends) to assassinate a Nazi official in Vienna during World War II. That’s just part of this amazing novel.
The narrator (and main character) of this story never gets a name, but is central to everything that occurs. A would-be artist who makes a living by doing portraits of the rich, he goes into seclusion in the hills after his marriage collapses. Luckily for him, he is able to stay in the house of a famous painter, who has succumbed to dementia. Although he intends to keep away from his fellow humans for a while, it doesn’t work out that way. To keep himself afloat financially, he teaches a couple of art classes, and starts a couple of affairs with married students. (Perhaps I should have warned you: this is Murakami, so there’s bound to be sex involved. There’s also cooking and descriptions of the outfit of every character, every time they appear.)
He also meets some neighbours: a Great Gatsby type who has a lot of money, a huge house, an E-Type Jag and a murky past; and a 12-year-old girl who lives with her aunt. There’s a special relationship between these neighbours, or maybe there isn’t, but I won’t spoil it by going into that. There’s also a lot of magic happening, like the bell that rings in the night when nobody’s there to ring it, as well as the appearance (and disappearance) of the Idea-as-Commendatore I mentioned earlier.
As the story unfolds, lots of parallel situations reveal themselves, so that by the close of the novel there seems like a millions ends to draw together. In the meantime, to save someone’s life the narrator has to undergo an ordeal that threatens his own existence, involving obstacles like hidden tunnels and Double Metaphors. Of course, he triumphs, and all’s well that ends well. It’s a hell of a ride.
Whe you’ve forgotten what an education was for, and lost the capacity to ask the reason why? Spose you have to believe in something. Murakami’s novel will not be found here.
If you’ve never read this wonderful writer, rush out and get yourself a copy of Killing Commendatore. I warn you though: don’t take it out in public. If you do, you’re certain to be mobbed by Murakami’s adoring fans, all asking for a loan of your precious object.