All right, so everything’s not as it appears to be, or maybe it is and suspension of disbelief is all it takes to appreciate this novel. But Kentucky Fried Pimp?
Now I’ve never had a problem with believing what I read; that is, taking as the truth the story and events as the author has presented them. With Paz’s My Life With the Wave, I never doubted that the man brought home a loving wash of seawater. What bothers me in fiction (and of course, supposed non-fiction) is the little details that don’t ring true. But that’s the way I am in life as well; I handle crisis with a calm and effective way. The little things that pester like mosquitos will turn me manic in a matter of time.
So okay, it’s Colonel Sanders. And from him we get some learning:
"You still don’t get it, do you? We’re talking about a revelation here," Colonel Sanders said, clicking his tongue. "A revelation leaps over the borders of the everyday. A life without revelation is no life at all. What you need to do is move from reason that observes to reason that acts. That’s what’s critical. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about, you gold-plated whale of a dunce?" (p. 275)
Up until now, Kafka’s new friend at the library, Oshima, has been the wise and thoughtful one, giving the youth as well as the reader some thoughts to ponder. But these tidbits are maybe just favorites of Murakami, his thoughts on life that he infuses his writings with to get them out and into other people’s heads. It’s not a preachy thing, and yet it’s given placement that, coming from characters like Johnnie Walker and Colonel Sanders, one seems to want to give some import.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology