"A Shinagawa Monkey"

Haruki Murakami is my favorite Japanese author. From his famous works of fiction like Norwegian Wood and The Windup Bird Chronicle to his short stories and essays, I almost never fail to be profoundly affected by his work.

Certain thematic elements crop up again and again in Murakami's body of work: loss, or more specifically, the disappearance of something important (often of a woman); memory; underground places (especially wells); music; the subconscious (loosely some sort of alternative to the normal conscious ego that deals with reality). The narrative voice is often the first person voice of the male main character--who may deceptively seem to be a representation of the author himself. Animals appear figuratively or literally--usually cats. Even in the straightest of Murakami's stories, there are often fantastical elements which are not explained, and elements of the plot (even the main elements) which are not resolved. Of course, there are exceptions to these rules, just as his own disregard for the rules he has established in a specific piece is almost a standard, unifying feature of Murakami's writing.

"A Shinagawa Monkey" was printed in The New Yorker in February. It was part of a collection of five short stories he published last year that I have yet to read. It is the story of a young woman who has lost her name. Unfortunately, like most of his works that The New Yorker has featured, at first read it didn't do much for me. I'm not sure if I had read it in Japanese if I would have gotten a different impression, but I really am not even inclined to give it another read. However, since he is my favorite Japanese author, and because the titular monkey inhabits the sewers directly below the part of Tokyo in which I'm living now, I would be amiss not to post a link here