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Sometimes I meet a person who says " Ive had so many iing experiehat I write lots of books about them." I think Ive heard quite a few people say the same thing especially since I came here. This doeshat Ameris say such a thing, but that many Japanese living in America often do. What they say might be probably true, because its quite challenging to live away from their home try, and they must have entered various kinds of exg happenings in this try. Its quite natural that they should have a strong wish to tell their story to someone else.Of course, I dont know if they are really going to write their own novels someday. But I only say this after all; despite the background as a writer who has written quite a number of novels so far, Ive almost never had any "truly exg" is in my private life. No doubt I might have had somethiing as a person living more than 40 years, such as meeting a strange and mysterious person or being greatly shocked by a sudden ge of destiny. Some memory, I t tell you what it is though, makes me smile and some still makes me so sore. Thrilling things once quivered me with excitement. heless I guess you must also have gohrough such things as I have experienced in my life. Ive never met anyone who be said to have<q>?9９lｉｂ.</q> experienced "su unbelievable happening as no one ever had even in this large world." If I were quite a strao writing novels and asked if I declare to people that "Ive got so much stock of iing topiy writing, " then my ao this question will be "No." Definitely "No." What I could do is just fess holy that "My life was somewhat iing in its way, but not iing enough to write a novel about it."
For all this, in a very rare occasioumble upon people who entered incredible experiences in this world. I like their story telling since a boy, and I often ask them to tell their own episode. I have no idea of using their story as a subjey novel, but I just feel like listening to them. Various tales exist; some of them are stunning, moving, heartily laughable, and chillih fear. Their narrative is sometimes so enting as to make me fet to go to bed. It is true that "Fact is strahan fi. " But it is not always true that the person, who has gohrough su excitement, write a novel as stimulating as his experiehere might be a writer like Jack London (an Ameriovelist 1878-1916) who makes up extraordinarily iing books from his plentiful, extraordinary experiences, but judging from my knowledge, such a is rather exceptional.
Though this is my private opinion, people are ined to be captured by the keen sense of helplessness while actually writing them down ohey suffer overwhelming experiences. Painful is the stress when one ot reproduce or vey vividly to others, however hard he tries, what hes experienced so intensely. In my case, the stronger is the iion to "write about a particular subje a particular way," the harder it bees to start writing and to express myself. This stress somewhat resembles the irritation one feels when he ot describe to another person what he experienced so vividly and realistically in his dreams. All words I use to narrate my feeling of the moment fail incessantly to describe what I wish to, and then they begin to betray me.
To the trary, there are some people, despite their lack of experiences, who find out something funny and something pitiful in a trivial i from their unique viewpoint which is quite different from that of others. They recreate their findings into a different form and tell other people more prehensibly about them. These people are standing much closer to s.
Anyway I have no experien my life which is really worth telling you about. I uand why John Irving said something to the effect that "If I write my books based on my personal experiences, my readers will probably fall asleep after the first 20 pages." In my case, less than 20 pages. It is generally believed that writers create their works uhe influence of various real experiehough. For instance, when I published my first novel, my acquaintances around me suddenly started to bee restless and nervous. They began to keep a distance from me though we had been enjoying a casual relationship until that time. At first I couldnt make out why, but after talking to them, I noticed they gave the cold shoulder to me for fear that I might use them as the models for my book. Weve beeing along with one another sihey found that I had no iion to write such kind of novels.
Since I came to the States, Ive visited lots of uies and talked with many Ameri students. Ive talked publicly before a large audieoo. But I feel more fortable when speaking face to fa a small class, using my own words and following my own casual style. Sometimes after class, all of us went to a pub and enjoyed an open and frank versation lass of beer. In su atmosphere, there is no differeween Ameri and Japaudents. Students, who assumed an affected attitude in the presence of a teacher during the session, now get relaxed and recover the childish sparkle in their eyes.
They are usually the students ied in Japaerature or Japanese, but for many of them, this is the first time in their life to meet a noveli<u></u>st. Therefore they are very eager to know something very realistic about a , for instance, what kind of creature a writer is, what kind of ideas he has, and what kind of life he is living. Some of them wish to write a hemselves, too. These -orieudents are keenly ied to know how they start writing a novel or bee a . Most typical questions asked by them are as follows:
1. What did you want to write in your uy days?
2. How did you publish your first novel?
3. What do you think is the most essential for writing novels?
From my standpoint as a private writer, I find it almost impossible to expand my case into the level of all writers and to teach them that "s are sud-such people" or "This is the way to write a novel" or "You bee a writer in this way." I also find it meanio suggest to them knowingly some "correct" theory of being a . So I show them my crete example, saying that "In my case I am like this." Besides, they much prefer the quick, descriptively "colorful" start-up example to the logical, abstract theory or cept.
In this "crete and colorful" way, wherever I went, I explaio the students how I became a , and I happeo notice that it was nearly good luck itself that made me a writer. Sometimes I am deeply impressed by the fact that I could bee a writer.
When a student, I was certainly thinking of writing something. More specifically, I wao write film sarios. Sarios first, and then novels, for I felt ied in films. That is why I chose to ehe Film & Drama Course in Waseda Uy, but I gave up writing sarios halfway, thinking it didnt fit me. I didnt have the slightest idea of what to write or how to write in those days. her any material nor any theme did I have to write about. Such a person could art writing a script ( or anything else), which was a self-evident fact. But I liked to read film scripts anyway, so I went to the Drama Museum on campus almost everyday, if not attending classes, and devoured all the film scripts in the West and in the East through all ages. Looking bay student days now, I think this dev helped me so much. Therefore, I think I give a piece of advice to younger people, having a wish to write something, that "you need not force yourself to write something when you ot." I wonder if this might help them or not though.
Then I graduated from Waseda, got married, and started w. (No, it is opposite. I married, started w, and then graduated from uy.) Driven by the severe everyday life, I totally fot my wish to write something. To clear off my debts, I had to work from early in the m till late at night like "a whipped carriage-horse," which sounds like a non-literary clich?, though. I ti for seven years. As my bar served the "stuffed cabbage" , for instance, I had to cut a full bag of onions into tiny pieces every m. Still now I mao cut plenty of onions in a short time even without shedding tears. My hands automatically and swiftly move as if they knew how to do it.
"Do you know the knack of slig onions without tears?" I ask my students sometimes.
"No," they say.
"Finish cutting them before tears start dropping." A big laughter occurs.
When it es to the topic like this, a lively sparkle appears in my students eyes. That might be partly because theyve rarely heard such a story in their regular classes, and partly because they more or less have a sort of vague ay about their future: "What kind of life course am I going to follow?" "What kind of possibility I find there?" I uand their sense of instability about their present position and their future. Around the age of twenty, I was as unstable as they are now, or my case must have been far worse than what the word "unstable" means. If a god appears here and asks me if Id like to go back to the age of twenty again, I will probably dee by saying "I appreciate your offer, but I am quite satisfied with the way I am now." If you pardon me, I want to say frankly "To hell with my twenties."
Then at the age of 29, a sudden impulse of writing a novel knocked on me. Now Ill explain about it more. It was an early afternoon in spring and I went to see a baseball game between Yakult Swallows and Hiroshima Carp in Jingu Baseball Stadium. Lying down ifield bleacher, drinking beer, and when a player named Hilton hit a double, I made a sudden resolution that "Now its time for me to start writing a novel." This is how I started to write a novel.
When I give su explanation to my students, all of them make a stunned face. "That means ah...the ball game meant something very special to you?" "I dont think so. The spring sunshihe taste of beer, the flying two-base-hit ball, all these elements got together and they stimulated something in me, I guess," I explain. "All I needed was the time and the experieo identify myself. It doesnt have to be a special experie doesnt matter that they are just a series of ordinary experiences. But they have to be the experiehat are embedding themselves deeply in my body. When a student, I couldnt find out what to write despite the itch for writing something. I he seven years and hardships to discover the theme for my writing, I guess." "If you hadnt goo the ball game stadium on that April afternoon, you would not be a writer now, Mr. Murakami?"
"Who knows?"
I really mean it; "Who knows?" If I hadnt been iadium that afternoon, I might have lived my ordinary life without writing any novels. But as a matter of fact, I was in the empty outfield bleacher of Jingu Stadium on that spring afternoon - yes the stadium was really empty in those days - and lying down, watg Dave Hilton hit a beautiful double into left field, I came to write my first book "Hear The Wind Sing." It might have been the only "extraordinary" i in my life.
"Mr. Murakami, do you think something similar will happen in everybody elses life?"
"I have no idea." That is the only answer I give. "But I imagine something similar, if ly the same, will more or less happen to anybody else. The instance of revelation must sometime visit you when various things suddenly get ected to each other. Well, at least, dont you think our life would be happier if we believed such a moment is sure to e?"
Anyway I think I learned quite a few things from my job. A few years ago a book titled "All I Really o Know I Learned in Kindergarten" became<tt></tt> a big bestseller here in the U.S., and in my case the same thing be said: "All I o know I learned in my jazz bar." I acquired various knowledge at the schools that I attended, but frankly speaking, this kind of knowledge didnt help me very much when writing a novel. I have no idea of maintaining that the school education is meaningless, but I rarely met a situatio came home to me how important my school education was. When I was a small boy, my mother told me that "If you dont work hard now, you will have regrets for not having studied harder after having grown up." Her advice gave me a vague feeling that she might be right, but still I t uand what she really meant. Thats because after grown up, Ive never regretted that "I should have studied harder when young." It is my twehat taught me some truth about how I should live, and in those days I was literally engaged in physical labor day after day. I spent every day in my twenties w both physically and desperately hard in order to pay my debts every month. I could not think about anything else even if I tried. But as a result, that kind of hard labor nourished me most. Labor was the best teacher to me and my "true uy."
For instance, managing a bar, I have a lot of ers every day, and not everybody necessarily likes my plaore accurately, just a few of themdo. But strao say, you mao carry on your business if one or two ers out of ten really like your plad if they wish to "drop by this bar again." Sometimes you have a better result when only a few out of ten really love your place rather than whe, or nine ers merely feel that "it is not bad." This lesson came home to me, while I was running my bar, through the pains as if to have all the bones in my body crushed. Even when many people speak harshly about my book, I believe, firmly and in the daily sense brewed through my own experiehat it doesnt matter so long as one or two of them intuitively uand what I want to express. It became an invaluable lesson to me. Without these experiences, it might have been much harder for me to live as a and some malicious ents on my book might have disturbed my own pace. When I talked about these things with Ryu Murakami (one of the porary writers in Japan; his novel "Almost Transparent Blue" in 1976 won the coveted Akutagawa Award and the Gunzou Award for New Writers), he was impressed and exclaimed that "You are really great, Haruki. Ill get mad by not being praised by all of the ten critics." But his ent, on the trary, impresses me because it certainly sounds like himself.
Though I have no idea of boasting of myself - it isnt even worth boasting of, Im not a person to think by using my brain, but rather a person to do so by actually moving my body. I am a person who learn or write only through the body. That is because I used to make my living by making use of my body from m till night. That is everything the word work meant to me. This charac<q>?９9ｌｉｂ?</q>ter of mine sometimes makes me feel out of pla "the world of literature." Partly this sense of "out of place" might have urged me to go abroad and live away from Japan for such a long time. The reason I ot do without my favorite jogging and swimming may have the same in.
About writing a novel, I have almost nothing to "teach" to my students. "All you have to do is live actually. If you really wish from the bottom of your heart to write something <u>藏书网</u>or to express yourself to somebody else, the time is sure to e when you write somethie the fact that you t write anything well now. Until that time you carefully tio pile up your daily experiences one by one as if to lay bricks oer another. For example, love someone seriously, " I say, and then some student responds that "I do it, too," which makes all of them laugh. Audent asks "What shall I do, if such a time doesnt e to me?" Some giggle. In su instance, without aation, I quote a vocal teachers cruel line from Orson Welless "Citizen Kane"; "Some people sing, others t"
When I won the Gunzo Award for New Writers with my first novel, and I said to all the people arouhat "My first book Ive writtely wohe Gunzo Award for New Writers," none of them believed my words. Instead, they thought I was joking. Probably some of them, Im vinced, still have a deep doubt about the fact that Im called a . In their eyes, I guess, I look something different from a .
Away from those days, away from Japan, and a long way from the stuffed cabbage, now I look bay past life and I think that our life is very hard to explain, whether we have "exg experiences" or not.
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