Killing Commendatore: A novel

The older I get, the more sure I am that the books that stick with you the longest are the ones that enter into your life when you need them. If you read a masterpiece of literature in the wrong head space it won't resonate, but you could read a dime novel at the right time and it stays with you foreverMurakami is a strange author. He is a master of creating odd, leisurely novels full of arms length self analysis and deep undercurrents of emotion. Everything feels important, but also distant. Like a dream. In that way most of his works have sort of blurred together for me, mixing his favorite writing ingredients together in different recipes but ultimately not sticking to me at all once I put the book down.Killing Commendatore is the first book of his that has stuck with me since the very first of his I read, long ago. Most probably because it entered my life at the right time. The novel you see is, on it's face, a haunted house story. An unnamed portrait artist separates from his wife and moves into an isolated house in the mountains near Odwara. The house was owned by a famous aging artist of Japanese style works who is now ill and in hospice. It is full of secrets, hidden paintings, mysterious histories dating back to WWII, lost shrines, ghostly specters and bells.But more critically, the story is not about the house at all. It is about transition points. When a comfortable life going in one direction is suddenly shaken and send adrift, and how a new path is forged from that murky uncertainty by grappling through the darkness. That is the core of the story, and Murakami lands that in every way that matters. It was the sort of story I was ready for in my own life to read, and it's one reason the story stuck with me so well despite it's flaws.And there are flaws aplenty. While Murakami manages to almost every mystery up, the novel is a bit over long and something parts gets repetitive. It has the usual and unfortunate Murakami obsession with woman's breasts and poorly written love scenes, as well as his tendency to drift a bit too much into the metaphorical in his ideas that leave a few plot points not connecting with total satisfaction. That being said, the core stories of the haunted house and the man in the middle of a turning point in his life all landed for me, and this is one story of his that will stick with me for a long time.

Not the best, not the worst. Despite its 700-page length, Killing Commendatore is a readable work, but it is not on the same level as “Kafka on the Shore,” “Wild Sheep Chase,” or “IQ84.” The narrator, a portrait artist, is going through a separation as well as being at a mid-career crisis. Art and music play important roles in the story. Murakami readers know that the author is an aficionado of jazz and classical music. In past works, the classical music in the background has been Prokofiev, Beethoven, Liszt, and Schubert. This time, it is Richard Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier playing, but it is the fans of Mozart who will be most intrigued. The title refers to the Mozart opera, Don Giovanni, a painting of which is discovered in the attic of a house the narrator is renting. The painting depicts the opening scene, which is the killing of the character Commendatore. Not surprisingly, with Murakami’s use of altered reality, the characters of Commendatore and Donna Anna eventually come to life just two-feet tall. Many of the characters are “mysterious,” e.g. Menshiki, the neighbor; and the "Man with the White Suburu Forester." Even objects, such as the dry well (ala “The Wind-up Bird Chronicle”), the knife and the bell are of uncertain realities. Overall, there is a lot to enjoy, e.g. the underground adventure, and the depiction of an artist at work. My own love of art, Mozart, and Strauss may have influenced my enjoyment of this work. On the minus side, there is too much repetitive writing, and some of the story elements seem superfluous, e.g. Mariye’s intrusion into Menshiki’s house and the narrator’s multiple, unemotional sexual encounters. Has Murakami actually made sex boring? You decide. But did I like the book? Yes, indeed.["Mental" ladder is a typo on page 194 of the hardcover edition; the word should have been "metal," but Murakami probably would like the error.]