Haruki Murakami’s After Dark is peculiar for its presence of the eye, a literal point of
view. Through this eye, which is continuously emphasized, the audience becomes a
passive, hidden observer, and, as an observer, the audience is led to believe that they
have a full understanding of both the physical happenings of the book ant the intentions of
the characters. Under closer inspection, however, such a premise must be looked upon
with scrutiny.
The genuineness of the interactions between the characters are questioned several times during the novel, especially within the interactions involving Takahashi. When Mari asks Takahashi whether or not he had slept with Eri, Takahashi answers that he would have to say no regardless of what he had done, calling it “professional confidentiality,” thus implying to the audience that some things that have been said may be far from the truth. Takahashi’s honesty is further questioned as the novel progresses. During his conversation with Mari, Takahashi expresses his desire to quit the band and start law school. However, when the audience is given a glimpse of Takahashi’s supposed last practice with his band, the atmosphere and mood of the passage says nothing of Takahashi quitting the band, instead demonstrating what seems to be just another routine practice. This inconsistency between Takahashi’s words and actions reveal that he has either lied to Mari about his future prospects, or that he has lied to his band concerning his retirement. Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Takahashi has lied, thus allowing the readers to doubt not only the characters themselves, but also the premise of the novel.
When it becomes clear that the readers do not have a clear understanding of the characters, the premise of the novel begins to break apart. Supposedly, Mari and Takahashi, individuals with severe emotional scars, are shown to not only to interact with each other, but also reveal their darkest secrets in one night, when in real life, such characters would have a difficult time opening up, let alone interact. A more abnormal case appears in the form of Kamugi, a supposed high school graduate and employee of Alphaville. During her conversations with Mari, Kamugi expresses her opinions concerning the significance of memory and humans’ dependency on it. While Kamugi’s argument proves to be quite insightful and fascinating, it seems uncharacteristic that a woman with such a background would have any knowledge of the philosopher Kant, let alone such abstract topics.
Through the assurance of the seemingly all-seeing nature of the eye, Murakami reinforces our delusions concerning our omnipotence over the novel and its characters. This assurance in turn opens the audience’s suspension of disbelief too far, which Murakami seeks to deconstruct mercilessly. When the audience finally realize the artificiality of both the premise and the duplicity of the characters, the real illusions within the novel seem trivial compared to the illusions which both Murakami and the readers weaved for themselves.
The genuineness of the interactions between the characters are questioned several times during the novel, especially within the interactions involving Takahashi. When Mari asks Takahashi whether or not he had slept with Eri, Takahashi answers that he would have to say no regardless of what he had done, calling it “professional confidentiality,” thus implying to the audience that some things that have been said may be far from the truth. Takahashi’s honesty is further questioned as the novel progresses. During his conversation with Mari, Takahashi expresses his desire to quit the band and start law school. However, when the audience is given a glimpse of Takahashi’s supposed last practice with his band, the atmosphere and mood of the passage says nothing of Takahashi quitting the band, instead demonstrating what seems to be just another routine practice. This inconsistency between Takahashi’s words and actions reveal that he has either lied to Mari about his future prospects, or that he has lied to his band concerning his retirement. Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Takahashi has lied, thus allowing the readers to doubt not only the characters themselves, but also the premise of the novel.
When it becomes clear that the readers do not have a clear understanding of the characters, the premise of the novel begins to break apart. Supposedly, Mari and Takahashi, individuals with severe emotional scars, are shown to not only to interact with each other, but also reveal their darkest secrets in one night, when in real life, such characters would have a difficult time opening up, let alone interact. A more abnormal case appears in the form of Kamugi, a supposed high school graduate and employee of Alphaville. During her conversations with Mari, Kamugi expresses her opinions concerning the significance of memory and humans’ dependency on it. While Kamugi’s argument proves to be quite insightful and fascinating, it seems uncharacteristic that a woman with such a background would have any knowledge of the philosopher Kant, let alone such abstract topics.
Through the assurance of the seemingly all-seeing nature of the eye, Murakami reinforces our delusions concerning our omnipotence over the novel and its characters. This assurance in turn opens the audience’s suspension of disbelief too far, which Murakami seeks to deconstruct mercilessly. When the audience finally realize the artificiality of both the premise and the duplicity of the characters, the real illusions within the novel seem trivial compared to the illusions which both Murakami and the readers weaved for themselves.
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