A Brief Reflection on Murakami's "Underground" (1997)
For an online book club, I finished Haruki Murakami's 1997 work of "journalistic literature" Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche. I finished the work at a commonly-odd time — roughly 0217 local time — and decided to scribble my thoughts on it free-form. Though I did not think much of the notes at the time, for the sake of personal posterity, and to share some thoughts with the book club itself — the act of Reading is only furthered by the act of Writing, and the act of Writing only becomes again the act of Reading once share — I decided to slightly polish and publish the sow's ear I have found in my notebook.
1226Z
...there are many problems with our metro systems around here. Personnelkorting, increasing prices, fare jumpers, and so on.
But not sarin gas.
We also have frequent compromises in the Dutch social contract. Explosions in front of targeted households are on the rise, vandalism is rampant in many neighbourhoods, and just last week I saw two bikes be stolen by the same middle-aged, drunk duo.
But not sarin gas.
I, myself, have come upon hardships in recent times. I have been let go, taken a knee injury, and have struggled to find gainful employment.
But not…
Content-ized Trauma
I was not quite aware of just how large the sarin operation by Aum Shinrikyo was. I had heard of a sarin attack before, but the level of coordination and amount of sarin bags is still chilling to read about.
However, this is a book not only, or mainly, about sarin gas and domestic terrorism, but a book about memories - individual and collective.
Memories need to be refreshed. Initially, I was surprised how edited some statements were. Murakami addresses these decisions early on, as was right to do. I understood not giving a name or a place of work as an interviewee for privacy purposes. But, initially, I wondered why no statement at all would be given by some of the individuals Mr. Murakami reached out to.
This last week, though, I saw one of those overly-produced “documentaries” on HBO — or Netflix, I already cannot recall — and I wondered why, to the above question, no longer. I do believe that remembering our collective shortcomings is important. It provides a window into the human experience and, more concretely, allows a society to learn lessons from past failures. However, I do not know to what extent this burden need be placed upon the shoulders of the victims, in a very public manner, in order for these lessons to be learned.
This went double for the more contemporary streaming-service content, with all its publicity, emotional editing, and editorial liberties, but it may still have applied in 1997 when Mr. Murakami decided to pen his book of interviews.
I am glad he did, for the record. I do not quite know why it feels different, either my own bias towards the written medium over the visual or some other je ne sais quoi that Murakami managed, but something about it feels right. Heck, maybe it was the upfront nature of his own shortcomings and limitations, something I have always respected in the man.
Whatever it was, I am of the belief that this book was created with more care for its subjects than any "docu-series" I have sat through in the past half-decade. The human touch of a notepad and pen perhaps strives to meet victims of unfathomable pain halfway. And, in all the Fear and Loathing we have witnessed in the years since the 1995 Tokyo attacks, couldn't we all use just a little bit more reaching out than retreating in?