Reviews and Comments

So… i guess i'm just going to go for it.

I think often of writing reviews here, but i stop short because i want to plan them out, take my time, and write them up carefully… and as a result of wanting to write them perfectly, i never end up writing them at all. So… i'll give this a try.

I think that, for the most part, this is a really maturely and delicately handled work. In case you've not read the book description, "If I Could Reach You" is about a high school girl, Uta, who is in love with her older brother Reiichi's wife, Kaoru. Oh, and she also lives with the both of them. So.

I've read a smattering of manga over the years, and… i've definitely read stories with a premise like this one that basically end up bringing the underage girl together with the adult woman in an… uncomplicated way. I wasn't sure if that was where this was going to go. Fortunately for the work, it did not.

What really captured me about this story /is/ the sensitivity that's largely on display here. I think that feelings between minors and adults are a /very/ difficult subject to tackle well, and must be approached with a deft hand. I think that this /mostly/ clears this bar. At the very least, i think it approaches the challenges earnestly.

Uta's feelings for Kaoru are… challenging, obviously. She's in love with an older woman who sees her as a younger sister, and for a large chunk of the work is in limbo as a result. Does she confess, knowing how weird that would be, and risk ruining the close relationship they share? Or does she hold her feelings in, and continue to hope that they'll pass, so that she can go back to that blissful time before she realised her feelings, when things were simple? In time, she realises that she /needs/ to confess, for the sake of her own heart, even as it makes her feel awful. She does so, and that does, indeed, upend everything. How could it not?

But… i think what really drew me into this story was Kaoru. I relate to Kaoru to an embarrassing degree. Kaoru leans on Uta, and has done since they were both children (i would guess that they're probably about five years apart in age, or so). But she doesn't do so unknowingly. In fact, there are a few people in her life that she leans on, but she tries /desperately/ not to do so (ughhhhh it's me). Leaning on them brings her deep feelings of shame (me again), /especially/ in the case of Uta who, more than probably anyone else, should not be asked to support someone that much older than her. I mean, can you imagine being 22 and leaning on a 17-year-old for support? That would make me feel all kinds of deep shame.

And i think that's really where the heart of this story is, for me: Uta's in love with Kaoru, but… it feels pretty apparent to me that this feeling Uta has is pretty deeply tied to the obligation she feels toward Kaoru. That is, Kaoru is a wounded puppy, and everyone around her (including Kaoru!) can see this. So… where is that line between loving a wounded puppy and romantic love? Is there a line? Can one become the other? /Should/ one become the other? How can Uta sift through those feelings, and, more importantly, how should /Kaoru/ handle them, so as to help Uta to mature healthily?

Unfortunately (just as in life), Kaoru's really not up to the task. Even knowing Uta's feelings, and knowing that she should handle them as an adult, that she should clear the air, be firm with Uta, and cut things off flatly… she doesn't. Because she's needy. So she keeps leaning on Uta. She keeps trying to usher Uta back into being a little sister, keeps needing her emotional support, even knowing that it's not fair of her, not right of her to seek those things.

This is where i really relate to Kaoru, because this is a feeling i know all too well. Not in the "a minor is in love with me" sense, thank goodness, but in the "i lean on others too heavily, hate myself for it, and continue to do it even when it feels so unfair that every fiber of my being is screaming." I hate this part of myself so deeply that it's difficult to express.

So… i found a lot to meditate on here.

I liked a lot of this.

So, my skills with handling my own and others' emotions are… embarrassingly bad. I think a lot of the appeal that anime and manga have for me are in watching people work through their feelings consciously, narratively. It was helpful to me to read this work (melodrama and all) and think on my own feelings, my own maturity (or lack thereof), my own good and bad decisions, my own weaknesses.

That said, there were bits i didn't really care for.

The more minor one was about some side characters who started dating. Not a big fan of their relationship. One cares for the other, and that other… i dunno, seems to kind of take it all for granted, on the one hand; and on the other feels sort of ace? But the text of the story has them come closer together over time, and… i dunno, it's inexplicable, to me.

But the major issue i have is with the ending.

So, what feels like the end of the text is this: Kaoru decides to divorce her husband (which feels like a mature decision for them both!), and starts living on her own, trying to find her feet. Thumbs up there, that's great! Separation and processing one's feelings is… really healthy sometimes! On the other hand, Uta looks back more happily on her time with Kaoru, and is glad that she had those feelings and glad that she confessed them, despite the pain of it all: the pain her feelings caused, and the pain Kaoru inflicted upon her by trying to, essentially, box her in and (generally, i think, unwittingly) take advantage of her. I dunno, growing up is hard, it's weird, and… i dunno, i, too, have mixed feelings about people i loved, people that had power over me and hurt me deeply. It's muddy and hard, but sometimes you come through feeling okay about it on the whole, in the end. Fair enough. Growing up is Hard. She also decides to hold on to her unrequited feelings and love Kaoru from afar, and show it by trying to watch over her. Also kind of fair. There are people i was deeply in love with, that i had painful relationships with (though not in this way, but, still, i could understand someone feeling this way), and i, too, still love them, and would help them if they ever needed it. I, too, tend to hang on to my feelings well after most people would be able to let them go, because… i'm just not built like that, for better or worse.

But… the actual ending: we flash forward a few years, and… Uta and Kaoru are living together, and even start dating.

::sigh::

This is such a disappointing ending. Honestly, it feels maybe it's a concession to the fans? "We want them to be together!" "Okay, fine, here it is, in like ten pages, they're together after Uta's an adult, okay?"

I guess… i guess that, like, the should-have-been ending is driving at both of them growing up. Holding dearly onto a time they once shared, when they were swimming in different feelings, but both were feelings of love of a kind… but now they both need to grow up. Uta begins to realise that the kind of love she had was suffocating her, and maybe she'll begin to find something more free as she begins truly to learn about romantic love; and Kaoru begins to feel that she can grow past that poisonous weakness she feels inside of her. Maybe she can finally grow up, herself, and, if not stand on her own two feet, at least find a way to exist in life that she can feel more proud of. She can learn to be honest with herself about her strengths and weaknesses, and find a stronger way to move through the world (you know, rather than leaning on a child's unrequited love in order to survive).

But then it just undermines all of that so that we can see them kiss.

I dunno, the generous reading is that, you know, we skipped five years or more, so maybe they've both grown, healed, and now maybe it's okay for them to get together? But even then, i dunno. Those wounds are still there, that history doesn't get erased… i just don't love the sudden jolt to this alternate reality. It doesn't flow from what they've started to learn, i think.

So, yeah! There was a lot here that was resonant (watching an indecisive adult badly handle difficult feelings and take /absolutely forever/ to make sense of, like, emotions that most folks would probably consider pretty basic '-_-), and i really do get a lot out of watching people pick through thorny, difficult, sometimes taboo feelings (because, i dunno, that's where life happens: in the Hard parts). I just… wish it stuck to its guns in the end.

But, you know, engagement welcome, too! I suck at art, so… i'd love to hear if others see things differently!

I have a weird relationship with Murakami.

In looking over his bibliography on Wikipedia, i see that i have read every one of his novels except for "After Dark" and "Kafka on the Shore" (i know, probably a weird one to have skipped, but a friend of mine deeply disliked it many years ago, so i've always just had it in the back of my mind that i would tackle it eventually, just not yet). In fact, i've read all of them twice, except for "Norwegian Wood", "Dance, Dance, Dance", and "Sputnik Sweetheart". This was my second time reading Killing Commendatore.

So, i dunno, i feel like i should have a pretty good handle on Murakami, but i really don't.

Many of his motifs now stand out to me, i suppose, and it's interesting to watch them shift throughout his lifetime. I have a good feeling for the general atmosphere of his works. I know that he really seems to like music and women's ears. I get the feeling that he's generally not really into Capitalism, but he also doesn't really seem to feel very inspired by the sixties' student movement. There's a lot of ambivalence and indecision in his protagonists, and most of his protagonists kind of blend together. Idk. I could go on, but here's the point i'm trying to make: i can note these details, and i have spent a lot of time buried in the atmosphere of his works, but… i suck at metaphor, so i'm not really sure that i understand the works very well.

Killing Commendatore is no exception here. What's especially embarrassing is that, like, i feel like he goes out of his way to explain what some of his metaphors mean here, and i'm still not sure i understand.

But i don't mean this as a criticism; i'm not sure if that's clear. I think part of what draws me back to his works is exactly that i don't entirely understand them, but generally speaking there's a vibe there that resonates with me; and i feel as though i could understand, that understanding is close to within my grasp. So, i read again, and think again.

I have a similar relationship to David Lynch. As particular examples, i like Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, and have seen both a couple of times. But my favorites are Inland Empire and Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. The latter is for profound resonance reasons; but the former is because i feel as though i can almost make sense of the film, but not quite, and i feel something resonant there. So, i return from time to time.

I often think that this is a foolish way of doing things. I never read others' interpretations of these works, and i generally don't take notes that would help bring things together. I don't know why this is. Something in me stops me, i guess. I guess that… reading others' interpretations is challenging because i'm prone to taking on others' ideas wholesale and squelching my own, because i don't always value my own opinion; i'm also embarrassed every time someone points out obvious interpretations that i missed, which is a foolish way to feel, as i'll never grow without communicating and being taught. These two are always in tension: the need to learn and grow and the need to not steamroll myself. Notes are difficult because, one, i'm bad at not writing every last little thing down; and, two, writing has a way of pulling me out of the headspace i'm trying to enjoy when taking in a work. So. Yeah. Still, i feel foolish in not doing these things that would assuredly help me to grow more steadily.

Anyway. A review.

For the most part, i've enjoyed reading this text, and I'd recommend it to folks who like Murakami. It feels like he senses the end his life now on the horizon, and there's certainly a vibe of someone looking back over his life here, and trying to leave some breadcrumbs behind for after he's gone. I dunno, this is just a feeling i get. The theme of traversing an invisible boundary—made literal—between absence and presence was resonant for me, someone who has a difficult time remembering that life is happening to it all the time, and that remaining absent is costly in its own ways. I think i generally enjoyed spending time in this world. Moreover, i just get a certain feeling when i read his works that it feels meaningful to spend time with. This book is not the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle or 1Q84 if one is looking to read those again—it feels less grand and sprawling. It feels more straightforward, almost like a folktale, than some vast epic of literature. And i think that suits Murakami well.

Some things i'm not a fan of: i've never been a huge fan of Murakami writing women. Some things he writes about the interactions between men and women make sense to me. For example, the way that women are asked to and do hide themselves; the ways that they react strongly to foolishness of men in their lives, and the hurt that men unknowingly cause because they are raised to think only of themselves; the ways it can be frustrating for men to be so slow on the uptake. But… he also just… i dunno. He's very strange about women. His writing often dissects the women in his stories, in that he loves to select from their features and describe them in a way that feels leery and uncomfortable for me—very "male gaze" sort of thing. When he describes sex, in particular, it makes me kind of nauseous—it vaguely reminds me of reading online erotica, in that leering "parts not people" way; i dunno, maybe i'm just a demisexual grey ace queer. But even more, when he writes from a woman's perspective, it's… uncomfortable at times. For example, apparently women only think about their features—especially their tits—all the time. Like, in this book in particular, there's a long passage from the perspective of a pubescent girl, and Murakami can't go more than a few pages without her being sad that her chest hasn't yet started to develop. Now, because i'm bad at metaphor, it may certainly be that this is meant to stand in for something that i'm not picking up on. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't still feel leery and really uncomfortable to hear an aged man author go on at length about a young girl's flat chest, and how it reminds him of his dead sister's flat chest (which he also goes on about a bit early on in the book). Similarly, there's a conversation somewhat near the middle of the book where he speaks frankly about his penis with this same girl. Like… it's not leering or aggressive or anything other than a sharing of fact, but it still leaves me feeling uncomfortable. Oh! And the sexual assault in a dream bit is A Lot.

So, idk.

I think that, at least for the time being, i press on with his writing because there's something there—something i still find ineffable—that i get from it. But it's difficult at times, and i'm not convinced i will always feel this way.

So, if you're a fan of Murakami—and sort of know what you're in for with his writing generally—you may want to pick this one up. Just… tread with caution.