Hoo-boy. Murakami has just presented us with McCarthy’s Judge (Blood Meridian) in the form of a man who dresses like and calls himself Johnnie Walker and who claims he must kill cats. A philosopher, a man who forces one to look at himself–in this case, Nakata–and pushes one to go beyond one’s worst imaginable capabilities just to prove the evil residing within us all.
"…But listen to me–there are times in life when those kinds of excuses don’t cut it anymore. Situations when nobody cares whether you’re suited for the task at hand or not. I need you to understand that. For instance, it happens in war. Do you know what war is?"
"Yes, I do. There was a big war going on when Nakata was born. I heard about it."
"When a war starts people are forced to become soldiers. They carry guns and go to the front lines and have to kill soldiers on the other side. As many as they possibly can. Nobody cares whether you like killing people or not. It’s just something you have to do. Otherwise you’re the one who gets killed." Johnnie Walker pointed his index finger at Nakata’s chest. "Bang!" he said. "Human history in a nutshell." (p. 142)
Murakami has eased us into this scenario–a lot stranger and bloodier than what I’ll give away here–that places us in a very uncomfortable position. I squirm a bit as I read, and even McCarthy didn’t quite make me do that. I think the fact that even as the action and pace steps up, we were lulled into two still comfortable worlds where we thought we knew some things were hiding beneath the surface, but didn’t expect to open the door into hell with the flip of a page.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology