The worlds that Haruki Murakami brings to life in his novels are rarely devoid of the fantastic. Talking cats are unsurprising fixtures, as are romances that defy not only age but also disparities of time. His stories are infused with a quality of magical realism, straining against but not transcending the partitions between what is understood as possible and what is just beyond imaginable. Murakami enjoys toying with the boundaries of reality and, strangely, these challenges do not alienate his audience.
In his most recent novel, "After Dark," Murakami divides the chapters into precise but inconsistent segments of time. This detail has the effect of infusing the events that take place "after dark" with an anxious eeriness. It is impossible to anticipate what point in time will crop up next, and the only release from the unpredictable is the steady movement toward daylight.
No more than eight hours are covered in these pages; the reader is given a sliver, not a chunk, of the characters' lives. The events of "After Dark" are altogether uncommon, but they unfold with such placidity that the entire effect of the novel is that of a particularly lucid dream.
Murakami is not writing fantasy, however, and his novel is grounded by pop culture and actual locations. The novel opens in the restaurant Denny's, and conversation is banal as often as it is surprising. The fantastic is restrained, by Murakami standards, in "After Dark," but the quality of relations between the characters remains curious.
The primary relationship that the novel traces is between Tetsuya Takahashi and Mari Asai. Takahashi is forward without being impudent; he approaches Mari because he remembers her beautiful sister, a character around whom much mystery is constructed. Mari is monosyllabic but Takahashi is unperturbed by her distance.
The conversations that take place between Takahashi and Mari are not revealing so much as they are compelling in their frankness. The honesty that permeates the discourse between strangers in "After Dark" is a little startling. Without reducing his characters' interactions to the impolite, Murakami does away with the pretenses that commonly delay the onset of even friendly intimacy. Their willingness to open up to each other is pleasantly surprising in an increasingly guarded world.
On the margins of the dialogues between Takahashi and Mari are the mysterious activities that take place under the cover of dark. Someone is watching Mari's sister sleep, a slumber that has gone uninterrupted for weeks. Mari is summoned to a "love hotel" to translate for a Chinese prostitute who has been brutally assaulted. Her assailant, an otherwise typical businessman, is observed as he complacently carries on his work at the office, devoid of revulsion, doubt, or uncertainty. The drama of these events never peaks and the reader returns to the strange feeling that these lives will continue after the pages and the dark no longer mark their progress.
Murakami has written a number of lengthy, intricate novels, this latest installment seems like a vacation from what has preceded. For those unacquainted with Murakami's work, "After Dark" provides an introduction to his prose, while Murakami enthusiasts will have their appetites whetted for whatever comes next.