"Whenever I read a Murakami novel, the world around me always feels a little more magical. Such is his aim, as he explains in Novelist As a Vocation, a collection of brief essays reflecting on his role as an author. ��The world seems dull, but in fact it’s filled with magical and mysterious rough gemstones,�� says Murakami, ��the novelist is equipped with the eyes to discover them.�� And these gemstones shine under the polishing of his prose in both fiction and nonfiction and in these essays he examines the act of writing in a way that registers similarly to the fantastic worlds he creates: a reality-adjacent realm where anything is possible. Looking over the course of his career. Murakami muses on the ��trial and error�� that led him to craft a remarkable and unique voice, stating ��if there is indeed something original about my novels, I think it springs from the principle of freedom,�� and this same sense of freedom is instilled into the reader as his rather surrealistic and thoughtful stories untether our minds from the mundane to explore life from new heights. ��I want to open a window in their souls and let the fresh air in,�� he says of the reader and across these essays we are treated to a first-hand account of his pursuit for such an effect as well, from his inspirations to the ways the world around him—both the global literary platform in which he publishes as well as contemporary Japanese society—shapes him as a writer. While those looking to Novelist As a Vocation for thematic explorations of his works or a how-to guide to writing may find themselves wanting, Murakami’s discourse on the act of writing and his pursuit for originality are plenty to satisfy and inspire the curious mind.

��What is originality, after all, but the shape that results from the natural impulse to communicate to others that feeling of freedom, that unconstrained joy.��

Reading like Novelist As a Vocation is like a nice cozy chat with a favorite author with Murakami adopting a rather conversationalist tone to his essays while eschewing any academic or instructional airs that often accompany books on writing. It’s old man Murakami lovingly dispensing his thoughts (and, admittedly, sometimes its a bit eye rolling “old man�� hot takes on society or bemoaning the education system not being like it was in his day) and it makes for a lovely read full of big ideas on what being an artist means to him. And, more specifically, how he feels about his own pursuits of artistry and success while offering a few pieces of advice along the way. ��Novels well up naturally from within you, not something you can casually, strategically change,�� he posits, arguing that if writing to market research or the whims of others is the center that ��a work born from such a shallow base won’t find many readers.�� He seeks creativity and agrees with Polish poet Zbigniew Herbert who said ��To reach the source, you have to swim against the current. Only trash swims downstream.�� For Murakami, the act of writing is something that should move on its own, not with the current, and he finds he was able to capture this because the act of writing is one he undertook for himself. He says finds a sort of ��theraputic�� aspect in it that unlocked the magic in the world around him and, by mining the magic with words as his shovel, was able to bestow the magic into the hearts of his readers as well.

��All creative activity is, to some extent, done partly with the intention to rectify or fix yourself. In other words, by relativizing yourself, by adapting your soul to a form that’s different from what it is now, you can resolve �� or sublimate �� the contradictions, rifts, and distortions that inevitably crop up in the process of being alive. And if things go well, this effect can be shared with readers.��

For him, it is a sort of free expression he finds akin to the jazz music he enjoys and often incorporates into his works. In an old essay predating this book (a decent amount of this book will be repeated information from a new perspective for those who have long scoured the internet to read his interviews and essays), he describes his method of writing is best when free from restraints on planning:

��I never plan. I never know what the next page is going to be. Many people don't believe me. But that's the fun of writing a novel or a story, because I don't know what's going to happen next. I'm searching for melody after melody.��

Of course, he adds, these are just his ��theories�� that work for him, much as other writers had their own (he contrasts the writing styles of Franz Kafka—a clear inspiration to his works—with that of Anthony Trollope and aligns his own methods with the latter) and if you find one that works best for you, hone in on it. In this way, this is less an instructive book than one about big ideas but the lack of instruction is part of the message: be true to your art and it will thrive and being true means seeking originality and creativity.

��These words may provide the best definition of originality available. “Fresh, energetic, and unmistakably your own.��

Readers of Murakami will no doubt find that he has a distinct and unique voice in the global literary word. His works often harness Western culture from The Beatles to the structures of authors like Raymond Carver and Raymond Chandler (both of whom he has translated) all poured into a concoction of dreamlike vibes and surreal musings that transcend the need to identify what is “reality�� and what is “not.�� It is an original voice that he is proud of and seeks to consider how one can look for originality:

��In my opinion, an artist must fulfill the following three basic requirements to be deemed “original��:
1. The artist must possess a clearly unique and individual style (of sound, language, or color). Moreover, that uniqueness should be immediately perceivable on first sight (or hearing).
2. That style must have the power to update itself. It should grow with time, never resting in the same place for long, since it expresses an internal and spontaneous process of self-reinvention.
3. Over time, that characteristic style should become integrated within the psyche of its audience, to become a part of their basic standard of evaluation. Subsequent generations of artists should see that style as a rich resource from which they can draw.
…need not fulfill all three requirements equally, of course��

I enjoyed learning about Hungarian author Ágota Kristóf who, after leaving Hungary for Switzerland in 1956 amidst political upheaval, began writing in French out of necessity. Murakami considers that ��through writing in a foreign language thats she succeeded in developing a style that was new and uniquely hers,�� and while the two are quite different in style, he feels a kinship with her having written his first novel, Hear the Wind Sing, in his second language, English and then translated it back into Japanese. In doing so he found he could streamline his prose but also find a voice that was unique to him. While he often is told his ��work has the feel of translation,�� he finds that to be part of his pride in his prose and what lends it to global translation and accessibility. He has always been big on sharing his ideas for that reason he likes to use 'easy words and good metaphors; good allegory,' and believes you should be 'kind to the reader' when explaining the plot so he explains 'carefully and clearly.'

'I think the first task for the aspiring novelists is to read tons of novels.'

While it isn't the primary focus, I should not that this book isnt devoid of writing advice either. Murakami suggests ideas like the best way to write characters is to observe people and listen to how they talk. Also to read a lot, both good and bad books and see what sticks. He also believes in trying new things. 'There aren’t any new words. Our job is to give new meanings and special overtones to absolutely ordinary words,' and by doing so we find our own magic. Still, I find his commitment to sharing with the reader to be the most endearing. In his , Murakami said:

'Dreaming is the day job of novelists, but sharing our dreams is a still more important task for us. We cannot be novelists without this sense of sharing something.'

I find this beautiful. And that is why he also believes your writing should be committed to justice, for what good is sharing a vision if it isn't a vision that upholds each other. Ursula K. Le Guin once wrote that 'words are events, they do things, change things,' and in Murakami we see an aim of words to move us, make us think differently--particularly think out of the box--and hopefully, make us appreciate life and each other.

��Perhaps no other writer concerned with memory and the difficulty of reclaiming the past �� not Kawabata, not even Proust �� has succeeded as well as Murakami in capturing the immediacy of the experience of déjà vu.��
-Jay Rubin, Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words

One cannot share with the world without a good translator, of which Murakami has had many. There are a few notes scattered in the book about his various translators, Philip Gabriel, Ted Goossen, Alfred Birnbaum and Jay Rubin, though the translation of this book is credited to the ��Harukimurakami Archival Labyrinth�� which feels like something straight out of the mysterious libraries in his works. As always, there is magic inside his works if you just know where to look.

��When the writing process is still underway, however, I have to be able to incorporate criticisms and suggestions in as humble and open-minded a way as possible.��

There are plenty of other musings in here, from responding to his early critics (with a touch of well-earned gloating) to his thoughts on being an author and not worrying too much about critics or awards. ��A literary prize can turn the spotlight on a particular work, but it can’t breathe life into it,�� he states, later adding that prizes ��mean vastly different things to different people,�� and ��you can’t make sweeping statements about them, one way or another�� and advises artists to avoid that. There is an acknowledgement that prizes can keep you in print and get attention, but that writing to a prize shouldn’t be the intent. As always, its about being true to the art, to yourself, and if so, you will be true to the reader.

��The novel I produce may be praised by people (if it turns out well), but no one seems to appreciate the process itself that led to it. That’s a burden a writer must carry alone.��

I enjoyed Novelist As a Vocation for its lovely first-hand insights into the mind of Murakami. It is more broad sweeping in ideas than necessarily craft based and is perhaps a book best suited to Murakami enthusiasts but one need not be in order to enjoy it. For those e looking for more insight into the craft of his novels might want to also consider checking out David Karashima’s Who We're Reading When We're Reading Murakami or Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words by one of Murakami’s English translators, Jay Rubin, though the big picture musings on the vocation of novelist is quite endearing and insightful here.

3.5/5

��Writing fiction is an entirely personal process that takes place in a closed room. Shut away in a study, you sit at a desk and (in most cases) create an imaginary story out of nothing and put it in the form of writing. The formless and subjective is transformed into something tangible and objective (or at least something that seeks to be objective). Defined simply, this is the day-to-day work we novelists perform.��&��ܴdz�;