Killing Commendatore: The rewards of patience #BookReview #Murakami

As a long time faithful Murakami reader, I bought his new book ‘Killing Commendatore’ (KC) soon after it was released in October last year. Much like the grindingly slow pace of the book, I took an entire year (and some) to finish reading it. There’s a bunch of reasons for this, including the fact that I’m a slow reader in any case. Distracted by other endeavours, my reading took a backseat through the past year and the book itself was making little attempt at keeping me hooked.

If I was any less of a Murakami fan, this venture might have been abandoned a long-time ago. But the promise of metaphysical occurrences and deep insight into human nature and its potential to co-create reality, a running thread through many of his books, kept me going. And it didn’t disappoint. Though even with all its surreal elements, KC feels more grounded in reality than many of his other works.

But the term ‘more’ here is relative. There’s an entire other world that exists in the book's universe besides the tangible everyday reality, and very harmoniously so. While I continued to read the intertwining story of the two worlds, it kept me guessing till the very end about where it's really leading up. And eventually it all comes together when narrator finally sees the big picture, after all the entire story is from his perspective.


Ultimately, we as the readers realise that it’s about his journey through loss and trial, finally reaching a point of faith. The story starts with an abrupt end to the protagonist’s marriage or at least a seeming end (it resumes shortly afterwards. This isn't a spoiler, it's stated right at the start). He’s a portrait artist, who then not just starts making his way through an emotional journey but also a physical one. Since this is a Murakami work, sometimes we don’t know how much of his journey is in the realm of the intangible consciousness and how much of it is actually happening in the physical reality. This makes it delicious to read.

As can happen often, when we go in search of life after a centrepiece comes undone, the universe fills it up with situations and people we could never have imagined otherwise. In fact, it’s quite likely that an extreme experience actually opens up the psychological space to experience things we weren’t capable of having earlier. This could be just my reading, but I think that’s what Murakami is going for in KC. It's interesting that it’s the opening up in consciousness that allows help of even the most unexpected kind to rush in and help the main character in finding healing.

I don’t remember reading a book ever that has taken me down the journey of the main character’s mind like this (films yes, books no) and finally earn the satisfaction of tying a bow to an entire journey. By the time I reached the end of the book earlier today, I was smiling. This was not just because I had finally managed to wade through the entire experience, but because the end itself felt deeply gratifying. By the end of the book I was speculating if the s-l-o-w pace of KC was deliberate. Did he want to take the reader through the excruciating psychological journey that the protagonist was on? I’m not sure. But if that was indeed the motivation, it sure achieved its purpose.
If I was a better reader, I’d probably read KC again, now that I know what the book intends to say and read it from that perspective. But for now, I’ll just bask in the satisfaction of a story that ends very meaningfully.

P.S. The state of my copy of KC is pitiable to say the least. Eventually it got read because I was reading snatches of it when travelling my brief journeys across town even if that meant it losing some of its aesthetic value. A hard-won gain, I suppose!