After publishing his first novel to great fanfare, Haruki Murakami did not waste any time, cranking out his second just one yet later in 1980. Set a couple years after the events of the first book, Pinball, 1973 follows the lives of our still unnamed narrator and his quirky friend the Rat. Since graduating from university, our mystery man has gone into the translating business, setting up a firm with someone he met at university. The Rat is just as committed to leaving the seaside town as when we first saw him. And he actually does, but not without things getting a little complicated first.
Having read this book straight after Hear the Wind, I was shocked at how much Murakami’s writing had improved, and in such a short span of time.
Emboldened by his newfound literary stardom, Murakami’s confidence is unmistakable, practically oozing off of the page.
Each and every one of his sentences feels complete, leaving nothing unsaid. They are longer and more complex, cramming in more ideas than those in his first book.
Pinball is richer and more thought provoking compared to its predecessor. Having found his voice in the year or so between their releases, his scenes are more descriptive and vivid, painting a more accurate picture of the world his characters inhabit. While it is tighter and less conversational than his first, Pinball’s prose is just as intimate, combining formal and informal elements. Counting Kurt Vonnegut as one his main influences, it is not hard to see where Murakami draws his stylistic inspiration.
The Rat and our unnamed narrator, once inseparable, don’t interact all that much in this book unfortunately. The Rat, still hellbent on becoming a writer, falls in love with an older woman, seriously complicating his plans of finally escaping. The narrator has his hands full working and taking care of some seriously quirky twin girls. These girls, who are totally clueless about the world around them, are a complete mystery to both the reader and the protagonist.
While the Rat and our unnamed man do share the limelight, it is plain to see who undergoes the most character development. The Rat puts real plans in place to leave the seaside down and his pampered upbringing, severing all ties to his former life.
The Rat’s journey in the book mirrors Murakami’s own in the real world. At this stage in his career, Murakami still was not totally committed to the writer life, juggling writing with his full-time job. To pursue his dream, the Rat, and by extension Murakami himself, has to leave the comfort and security of everyday life.
But by pursuing it, the Rat only complicates his life even further. To help him along the way, the Rat purchases a used typewriter from an older woman. While they don’t get off to the best of starts, the Rat and his new lady friend strike up an intimate relationship. The Rat, slowly falling in love with the older woman, has a difficult decision to make. Will he spend the rest of his life with his new girlfriend, finally feeling like he belongs: or will he move away once and for all and live his dream of being a writer? Wasting away in his apartment for days on end, the Rat is paralysed by indecision. Left with no other choice, the Rat abruptly cuts contact, with not so much as a goodbye to the woman he has fallen in love with.
But after all that, the Rat isn’t free just yet. One thread still binds him: J the bartender. J and the Rat are twin flames. Outsiders in the seaside town, they watch passively as life flashes them by. Fear of the unknown has left the Rat immobilised for too long. To truly make something of himself, the Rat has to say goodbye to one of the only things he holds dear.
For the Rat, J’s bar is his home away from home, a place where he can truly be himself. Saying goodbye to J, and in turn his bar, means saying goodbye to the one place he truly felt accepted. And when he does, he can finally set out on his nomadic journey of self-discovery.
The Rat’s trepidation mirrors Murakami’s own about becoming a full-time writer. His overall character, at least in this book, symbolises Murakami’s burgeoning desire to be part of the literary world. Through the Rat, Murakami says goodbye to his old life and starts anew. My biggest gripe with Pinball is how bland and uninteresting the unnamed narrator is. While he does reconcile with his own past – sewing up old wounds – it doesn’t happen until the last quarter of the book. He leads a bland and pretty uneventful life up to that point. This lack of characterisation is a recurring theme across many of Murakami’s novels, whether by accident or on purpose.
