Rebirth 2004: A lone figure in the literary world

Chapter 338 Tokyo Night

In a corner of the "Alley Cat" jazz bar in Roppongi, Tokyo, the 50-something Yoshitaka Iizuka let go of the serious burden of a university professor, put his suit on the back of the chair, unbuttoned his Oxford shirt to the second button, leaned against the wall, and held a glass of whiskey in his hand.

At this moment, the faded posters of American blues bands from the 70s in the bar trembled in the air-conditioning wind, and the dim wall lamps cast a faint halo on the cracked deerskin wallpaper, which was ambiguous and warm.

The band on the stage is playing classic pieces. The saxophone's tone is lazy and deep, the piano's melody is full of delicate emotions, and the low bass line is like the pulse of a city, firmly supporting the skeleton of the entire piece of music.

Sitting opposite Iizuka was a man who looked about the same age as him. His facial lines were soft, and it was obvious that he had a round face when he was young, but now it had been shaved into some angles by the long time and exercise habits.

His eyes were calm and gentle, always staring at the whiskey glass in his hand, as if there was some treasure hidden behind the amber wine and crystal ice.

Iizuka Yoshio put down the cup, took out a flat iron box from his trouser pocket, took out a cigarette from it and put it in his lips, then took out a match and scratched the inside of the iron box lid, and an orange flame jumped up.

Soon, the unique aroma of Peace cigarettes lingered between the two of them.

Iizuka Yoshio blew out a smoke ring and said in a voice with a slight Hokkaido accent: "How long do you plan to stay in Japan this time?" If Wang Zhenxu saw his revered mentor looking so relaxed, he would be surprised.

Professor Iizuka was known for his flawless appearance and speech in the university. Even when he occasionally went to a pub with his colleagues and students, he never behaved in a dissolute manner. But at this moment, he looked like a seasoned playboy.

The man took a sip of the wine in his hand and said, "Recently, a witness of the subway sarin gas incident sent me an email. I came back to interview him. Oh, and there is also the press conference for "Tokyo Tales"... ah, it's really troublesome.

I might have to stay for two or three weeks before I can go back to the United States.”

Iizuka asked, "Interview? Or is it about your new novel? What's its name? You told me it's called 1985? Is it a tribute to George Orwell's 1984?"

The man said, "This title has been rejected."

Iizuka looked curious. This friend rarely changed the things he was sure of. "Oh?"

The man explained in a slightly distressed tone, "It happened a few days ago. Didn't Michael Radford, the director of the movie version of 1984, come to Japan? I talked to him once and told him about the book. He said it was a bit inappropriate. Anthony Burgess had already written a novel called 1985."

Iizuka chuckled, then consoled him, "What a coincidence... But it doesn't matter. I can always think of another title for the book."

The man said, "I have been worrying about this for the past few days. The name of each book should be unique. If it happens to be the same as another book, it would be as embarrassing as walking towards someone wearing the same clothes as you."

Iizuka picked up his wine glass and shook it, thinking carefully about the title of the book for his friend. After a long while, he said, "Do we have to pay tribute to 1984?"

The man said, "Since I have drawn inspiration from my predecessor, I must tell him in some way, right?"

Iizuka Yoshio joked, "Why not use homophones?"

The man asked in confusion: "Homophone?"

Iizuka said, "'9', um, what did you think of?"

The man was naturally a very smart person. He understood what his old friend meant in an instant. He suddenly realized, "Ah... I am such an idiot. Isn't '9' the same as 'Q'? Come to think of it, not only are the pronunciations similar, but even the writing is very similar."

Iizuka Rong was a little surprised and said, "You are not taking it seriously, are you?"

The man took another sip of his wine, then said, "Let's just leave it at that. It's a terrible thing to be bothered by the title of a novel when writing it."

Iizuka said: "So, this book is called..."

The man slammed his cup on the table. "Let's call it '1Q84'. How interesting! It pays tribute to '1985' better than '1984'. And 'Q' can correspond to 'Question'. Okay, let's answer the visitors like this from now on. They like such mysterious answers the most.

It was well worth the drink tonight. Ah, it's a pity you didn't stick with your novel."

Iizuka smiled and said, "Murakami-kun, please stop mocking me. I am not as talented as you. I am very lucky to be able to continue my father's research as a professor in China."

The man sitting opposite Iizuka is Haruki Murakami. The 60-year-old has lived abroad for more than 20 years and only returns to Japan when necessary.

Some people say that this is because he was a traitor to Japanese culture and an outlier who wrote American novels in Japanese, so the Japanese literary world could not tolerate him. He felt bored and went to settle abroad.

Murakami himself said that he is not a patriot but rather a "cosmopolitan" who does not have a strong sense of belonging to Japan; and that living abroad allows him to drink better whiskey and enjoy more wonderful jazz performances.

Of course, there is also a conspiracy theory - Japan is one of the countries with the highest personal income tax in the world, and it also stipulates that no tax will be levied if you leave Japan for more than half a year - Murakami travels between the United States and Europe every year, and the taxes he saves are astronomical.

But in any case, it is not wrong to say that he is an outlier in the Japanese literary world.

Murakami Haruki said: "You were also a famous figure back then..."

At this point, both of them fell silent as they reminisced about the past. In the 60s and 70s, Japan had a fierce student movement over issues such as tuition increases and the Japan-US Security Treaty. Murakami and Iizuka both participated in the movement and even became important figures in the core circle.

Many of Haruki Murakami's works bear traces of this period. It can even be said that almost every one of them is a reflection, questioning and re-interpretation of this period of his youth.

But they eventually drifted apart, one became a professor of literature, the other a writer, and took different paths in life, but their friendship has been preserved to this day.

Every time Murakami returns to Japan for a short stay, he will look for Iizuka to reminisce about the past. Only when facing their old friend can they put aside the seriousness of a professor and the reserve of a writer and chat freely, as if they were back to their 20s.

Iizuka Yoshio finished his cigarette, extinguished the last flame in the ashtray, and changed the subject, asking, "Aren't you going to stay in Japan for a while longer?"

Murakami Haruki asked curiously, "Oh? Is there anything you want me to stay for?"

Iizuka said: "In October, a group of young Chinese writers will visit Japan. It will be very interesting."

Murakami Haruki's eyes became deep, and after a long while he said quietly: "Young people in China... You know I'm not good at dealing with this kind of situation, right?"

Murakami has very complicated feelings towards China. His father was once a member of the Japanese army that invaded China, which became one of the sources of his mental pain. Murakami always believed that he had the blood of war criminals flowing in his veins, a very sinful gene. Rather than letting this sinful memory continue, it would be better to end it from his generation.

When he traveled to China alone more than 10 years ago, he even ate canned food throughout the trip and refused to eat a single bite of Chinese food. Later, he wrote a novella, "The Boat to China," which tells the stories of three Chinese people the protagonist "I" met in elementary school, college, and when he was years old.

The three Chinese people in the novel left a good and friendly impression on me, but I instinctively did something guilty to them. The criticism of this novel is directly aimed at the ugly soul of the Japanese.

There is no shortage of pro-China "reflective" cultural figures in Japan, but it is rare to see them as "reflective" as Murakami. But it is also because of this that Murakami almost subconsciously avoids contact with Chinese people.

Iizuka knew what his old friend was worried about, so he said, "Actually, I'm not asking you to meet all of them. It's just that there's a young man among them, and I think it might be interesting if you met him."

Haruki Murakami said: "Oh? Is there actually a writer in China that you value?"

Iizuka smiled proudly and said, "Of course. China has the largest population and the longest history of civilization in the world, so it is natural that some talented writers would emerge.

But I want you to meet him because you two have some similarities. "

Haruki Murakami hesitated. He didn't want to stay in Japan for too long. As he was almost an American, the red tape of Japanese culture and the endless honorifics and apologies were really unpleasant.

But since it was an old friend who invited him so kindly, he couldn't just say, "Let me go, I'm not interested!" - People are really strange. They can easily refuse others in the United States and Europe, but when they return to Japan, they get caught up in ambiguous entanglements.

Iizuka Yung saw Murakami's mood, he reached out and patted his old friend on the shoulder and said: "Don't be embarrassed. When you go back later, you can go to the bookstore and buy a book of his, and then make a decision after reading it - oh, his name is 'Zhang Chao'.

You can always find it if you ask in a bookstore. He is very popular in Japan now.”

Haruki Murakami finally showed a little interest. After all, he also knew the stubbornness of Japanese reading tastes. Except for American writers, they could hardly read any foreign literary works.

The writer "Zhang Chao" is able to have his works displayed on the shelves of Japanese bookstores, so I think he must be of some standard.

But when facing his old friend, he still made a joke: "If you really want me to meet him, you should bring me a copy of his novel."

Iizuka Yoshio was not polite and said, "That won't do. His novels were published with government funding for the Yearbook Society. Each copy was paid for by taxpayers. You, a non-citizen, should buy them with your own money."

After saying this, the two of them looked at each other and laughed so hard that they fell forward and backward.

Iizuka Yoshiya wisely did not continue this topic, but chatted about something else with Murakami Haruki. When they saw that it was almost 9 o'clock, the two said goodbye to each other after finishing the rest of the wine, ending this short gathering.

A tipsy Haruki Murakami was walking alone on the streets of Tokyo. The air around him was hot and humid, making him feel a little stuffy.

Turning a corner, you will see the Tsutaya Bookstore which is still in business. This is a large bookstore chain that started out by renting videotapes and records, and later gradually expanded to selling books.

The bookstore was still brightly lit at this moment, and through the glass, one could see a few individual customers wearing large headphones and listening to CDs.

Haruki Murakami remembered what Iizuka said, and after a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door of the bookstore. At the clerk's call, he walked to the counter and asked, "Excuse me, do you have any novels by Zhang Chao?"

The clerk looked up at Haruki Murakami and thought he looked familiar, but still answered professionally, "Of course we have it. Which one do you want?"

Haruki Murakami asked, “Are there many?”

The clerk replied: "Zhang Chao-sang is a popular foreign writer in recent years. Now we have his "Your Name", "The Vanishing Lover", "Criminal Eiko"..."

Haruki Murakami interrupted the waiter's "calling out the menu" and said, "Let's take the one translated by the 'Yearbook Society'."

The clerk was stunned for a moment, but quickly reacted, lowered his head and said, "Please wait a moment..." Then he trotted along, and his figure quickly disappeared among the layers of bookshelves.

After a while, the clerk hurried back to the counter with two books, one of which was "The Eikoshi of the Criminal World" and the other was "Kafka on the Shore" published by Murakami in 2002.

The clerk bowed deeply to him and said, "Mr. Murakami, I'm sorry to ask you to sign your name."

Although Haruki Murakami does not often appear in public and rarely holds book signings, his image still appears in many newspapers and magazines over the years, so it is not surprising that he is recognized.

He looked around and saw that all the customers in the bookstore were busy with their own things and no one noticed his side. He breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled and signed his name on the title page of the book with the marker handed to him by the clerk.

Murakami doesn't put on a show of effort like many other writers.

Then he asked, "How much is this copy of "Criminal Eiko"..."

A few minutes later, the night clerk at Tsutaya Bookstore watched Murakami disappear in the orange light of the street lamp, then he took out his mobile phone, took a photo of "Kafka on the Shore", and also took a photo of the title page signed by Murakami Haruki.

Then I sent it to my good friends via group email.

"Guess who I just met?"

“Guess which book he just bought?”

Haruki Murakami naturally didn't know that his actions had unintentionally set off a small trend in Japan.

He walked for more than ten minutes and returned to his apartment in Tokyo. It was a high-rise residence with high-quality services, with three bedrooms and a study, but two of the bedrooms had been converted into a gym and a library by him.

As a jogging enthusiast, he would run 10 kilometers on the treadmill even in rainy and snowy weather that made it inconvenient to go out.

After washing up, Murakami went to bed on time. Unlike most writers who are night owls, his work and rest schedule is very regular - he goes to bed at 9 pm, gets up at 4 am, starts writing at 5 am, and continues writing until 10 am, about 10 pages of manuscript paper, which is about 4000 words (this number is too high...).

Then it’s exercise, lunch, and chores…

Year after year, day after day, he does this almost without fail, which is why he has been able to maintain high productivity for more than 20 years.

Murakami glanced at the bedside table, where the novel he had just bought today was quietly lying - he was used to reading a few pages of a novel before going to bed.

I opened "Criminal Eikoku" and the soft reading light at the bedside made the words above seem particularly peaceful...

He thought that just like in the past, after ten or at most fifteen minutes, he would be overcome by sleepiness and fall into a deep sleep.

Unexpectedly, the reading light at the bedside would be on all night.

(End of this chapter)