after the quake

“Her clothes, her shoes, her umbrella, her coffee mug, her hair dryer: all were gone.”

Komura lists all the mundane objects that belonged to his wife that are no longer in the home. The things are insignificant, yet they serve as poignant reminders of the dissolution of his marriage and his repressed feelings of loss and rejection. Komura’s personal misfortune is contextualized in the larger national tragedy and devastation of the Kobe earthquake. In both cases, the divorce and the earthquake, Komura responds with an emotional neutrality that suppresses the pain and horror of grief and death.

“Hokkaido in February would be freezing cold, Komura knew, but cold or hot it was all the same to him.”

Throughout most of the story, Komura barely registers an emotional reaction to the tragic events in his life and the nation. Feeling neither hot nor cold indicates his inability to feel a range of emotions, as he often opts for the middle or follows other people’s initiative. The scene recalls Komura’s description of a “warm” sex life and his satisfaction with mediocrity.

“Komura studied the way she walked. The upper half of her body was still, while everything from the hips down made large, smooth, mechanical movements. He had the strange impression that he was witnessing some moments from the past, shoved with random suddenness into the present.”

At the airport on his arrival, Komura notices the fracturing of Keiko’s body and how it feels like a disruption of time. The surreal description emphasizes a mood of things not fitting in place and being disjointed. The dreamlike quality is Komura’s introduction to Kushiro, a setting that symbolizes his unconscious and confrontation with repressed feelings and an enigmatic past. Like Keiko, Komura is also split between the man he thinks he is and the man that his wife rejected and left.

“Komura felt as if he had been imprisoned in a washing machine.”

In a comical scene, Komura is jostled in Shimao’s battered car on the cold roads of Kushiro. The imagery connotes a life stifled by domestic appliances and alludes to Komura’s life as an electronic salesman and the empty consumerism of the wealthy who vie over buying the most expensive items. The scene foreshadows Komura’s awakening that his marriage and home life, all markers of domestic contentment, may in fact have been a prison that limited his experience of the world.

“The only thing that matters is whether I can get my stomach full right now and get it up right now. Right?”

Keisuke’s character is almost a parody of masculinity and immaturity. Though he speaks the least in the story, his dialogue is frequently marked by crass language and the incessant performance of an exaggerated masculinity. A sample of his utterances include crude remarks about his “balls” (24), a “hooker” (24), “a hard-on,” (26), and needing “a crap” (33). He has little interest in the spirituality and ancient history of the bonfires and unapologetically asserts that he is only concerned with the Dionysian pleasures of food and sex. The juxtaposition of Keisuke’s carefree lifestyle to Junko’s introspective nature heightens the sense of her loneliness, as even her partner appears to not truly understand her.

“I know what you mean, Jun, but it’s not good being too sensible when you’re young. It just spoils the fun. Keisuke’s got his good points, too. […] It’s not easy being young.”

Despite Keisuke’s immaturity, Miyake is sympathetic to him and later asserts that Keisuke is merely enjoying his youth. The comment reveals Miyake’s empathy for others and his belief in redemption for the mistakes of youth. Miyake’s perspective is important for Junko to hear, as she is young yet already despairing of her life.

“‘It’s just a picture of an iron in a room.’

‘Why’s that so tough to explain?’

‘Because it’s not really an iron.’

She looked up at him. ‘The iron is not an iron?’”

Miyake’s explanation that the iron is not an iron recalls René Magritte’s surrealist painting The Treachery of Images, which depicts a pipe with the caption “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (“This is not a pipe”). Magritte’s work is a commentary on representation, language, and mediated perceptions of reality, which are surrealist tenets that have influenced and characterized much of Murakami’s fiction. Miyake’s painting is referenced only once but serves as the story’s title, creating a metafictional moment where, like the iron, the fire in the story is not a fire but a symbol for something more complex. Like these symbols, the story is strewn with references to liminal spaces of being and not being such as dusk/dawn, the land/sea, and wakefulness/sleep to explore the characters’ meditation on life and death.

“I could never live with this man […] I could never get inside his heart. But I might be able to die with him.”

Junko describes her bond with Miyake not as a romantic interest or even a friendship where she could ever know him intimately and “get inside his heart.” Indeed, Miyake only answers a few of her questions about his past but chooses to end the conversation and tell her no more. The scene plays with the theme that people are essentially strangers to each other. However, Junko’s willingness to die with Miyake is a metaphor for choosing companionship and finding a like-minded soul who helps her carry through her loneliness.

“When the fire goes out, you’ll start feeling the cold. You’ll wake up whether you want to or not.”

Miyake reminds Junko that the cold will wake her, and the story ends with Junko repeating his exact words. The refrain echoes the last stanza in Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” which is about a man who may be lured by death but concludes that he must persevere: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep” (Frost, Robert. “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Poetry Foundation). The poetic echoes of Miyake’s words emphasize a bittersweet urging and natural instinct to live life amid its struggles and not rush toward death.

“The best cure for a bad hangover was to watch a morning talk show, according to one friend. The shrill witch-hunter voices of the showbiz correspondents would bring up every last bit left in your stomach from the night before.”

Yoshiya’s friend makes a comment about society’s superficial concerns with celebrities and their private lives. The reference to witch hunting suggests a culture that thrives on scapegoating others. In contrast to the pop-culture reference to talk shows, Yoshiya works at a small publishing company that produces travel guides, a genre that encourages exploring new places and different perspectives. That the talk shows are stomach turning indicates that Yoshiya is a youth who is critical of the triviality and voyeurism of celebrity culture.

“Unfortunately, the eyes of most people are clouded and unable to see the truth, Yoshiya, but Our Lord, your father, is the world itself.”

Yoshiya was raised to follow the absolutism of his father, God, who determined the world and Yoshiya’s sense of himself and reality. Mr. Tabata represents a figure of obedience and submission to a higher power, and he instilled in Yoshiya a similar belief. Yoshiya has struggled with the necessity of self-negation in all-encompassing acceptance of God as his father and the desire for self-determination and independence.

“Each morning they would cram their rucksacks full of supplies, travel as far as they could by commuter train, then walk along the rubble-strewn highway the rest of the way to Kobe, where they would distribute daily provisions to the victims of the earthquake.”

Despite her eccentricities, Yoshiya’s mother is also a figure of empathy and service. Yoshiya may worry about her judgment on some schemes, but she also demonstrates responsibility and diligence in helping others. She later tells Yoshiya that her backpack often weighs 35 pounds, a significant load that represents her devotion to her faith and her active role in supporting other people’s lives.

“Our hearts are not stones. A stone may disintegrate in time and lose its outward form. But hearts never disintegrate. They have no outward form, and whether good or evil, we can always communicate them to one another.”

While recalling holding Mr. Tabata’s hand while he was on his deathbed, Yoshiya tries to communicate a renewed perspective of the world. Rather than the decay and deterioration that characterize his morning hangover and the scrapyard setting, Yoshiya declares the resilience of the heart, a symbol for the soul, love, and connection with others. Rather than feeling that life is essentially about isolation, Yoshiya extols the undeniable connection that hearts can “always communicate.” Yoshiya had earlier described God, his father, as having a “heart of stone.” In his cathartic release, he no longer feels the despair and coldness of anyone’s rejection.

“The men had seemed to possess both the poise of a seasoned general commanding troops on the front line and the vision to recognize at a glance that Satsuki was a professional pathologist without combat experience.”

Satsuki thinks about the hierarchy within the medical profession where male physicians deem themselves superior to her despite her qualifications. These men act with confidence, and the military metaphor connotes a traditionally male-dominated field that undermines female authority. Satsuki is a professional pathologist who researches conditions of the immune system and thyroid, yet she is nevertheless made to feel as if she is not a “real” doctor against her male colleagues in the medical field. The belittling incidents emphasize a sexist environment where Satsuki must assert her self-worth.

“Just shut up and let Nimit make all the decisions.”

This quote is an ironic statement from Satsuki’s American friend who arranges her vacation. His advice is told in a “mischievous tone” not as an insult against Satuski’s agency but to assure her that she is in good hands and to trust Nimit. “Shut up” foreshadows Nimit’s advice to Satsuki to not speak aloud about her past secret. He tells her not to use words, suggesting that language can be inadequate to express the complex and contradictory truths of one’s feelings. Translating feelings into words can result in a type of rationalization that does not capture the raw honesty of an emotion. Nimit advises instead for Satsuki to have her dream, which operates in a language of its own.

 “It’s everything I’ve wanted for him all these years.”

Satsuki’s energies have been steered toward wishing someone misery and harm, a toxic desire that she has harbored for years and the source of the stone inside her. Such bitterness has distracted her from focusing positive energy on her own life, on the difficult task of coping with her trauma, and on finding a way to heal. The stone is like a parasite that has lived inside her without her knowledge and has defined her spiritual existence so firmly that the old woman tells her that nothing of her will remain after her death except the stone in her ashes, a warning that she risks distilling her essence and meaning of her life down to a hard stone.

“Hold onto it with both hands. Think of it as your life, and hold onto it with all your strength.”

The old soothsayer gives Satsuki instructions on how to coerce the snake to eat the stone. The snake is a symbol of her life, and holding on with both hands and not letting go represents taking control of one’s life and steering it. The dream’s imagery is foreshadowed earlier in the story when Satsuki admires Nimit’s driving: “His technique with the steering wheel was almost beautiful, the way he would move his hands to exactly the same points on the wheel at exactly the same angle” (67). Nimit, an older man who has given his life much thought, drives his car with control, a metaphor for steering one’s life as one chooses.

“‘I am half dead already,’ Nimit said as if stating the obvious.”

Earlier in the story, Nimit tells Satsuki that he doesn’t have “the slightest regret” in his life and is prepared for his death (74). The “obvious” factor in Nimit’s attitude is that he has come to terms with his mortality. As a man in his sixties, Nimit has taken the time and energy to make sure that he can face death with dignity and no regrets. In contrast, Satsuki has carried a stone inside herself for far too long and without any knowledge of it being there. Nimit’s readiness for death is a contrast to Satsuki’s lack of self-examination and self-awareness.

“It’s your home. You don’t have to ask for my permission.”

Katagiri asks Frog if he minds if Katagiri smokes, and Frog replies that Katagiri can do as he pleases in his own home. The exchange highlights Katagiri’s lack of power and self-assertion. Frog is a stranger and a guest in his home, yet Katagiri defers to him. Frog must remind Katagiri that he is essentially his own boss, indicating that authority is something Katagiri rarely possesses.

“‘Tell me, Mr. Frog—’

‘Please,’ Frog said, raising one finger. ‘Call me Frog.’”

Katagiri formally addresses Frog as Mr. Frog and forgets to drop the “Mr.” despite Frog’s frequent reminders. This happens five times during their conversation, a sign that Katagiri is habitually formal in his interactions with others. As a lowly corporate employee who admits to having no friends, Katagiri likely has had few opportunities to refer to someone in a casual and informal manner.

“However it turns out, ours will be a lonely battle.”

Frog’s contention that the battle against Worm will go unrecognized by others and only be known to them has both a negative and positive connotation. Katagiri has spent his life being ignored, and the “lonely battle” alludes to the many ways that Katagiri has felt isolated from society and forced to cope with his own problems alone and without support. However, a more positive interpretation suggests that Katagiri will not need recognition or approval from other people because what will matter most will be what he thinks of himself.

“Each and every one of us is a being of limited duration: all of us eventually go down in defeat.”

Frog’s comment on mortality and how death can be a measure of the meaning of one’s life is a recurrent theme throughout the collection. Miyake in “landscape with flatiron” and Nimit in “thailand” both hold a similar principle and invoke death as a reminder to make the most of their lives. The stories are set in the aftermath of the Kobe earthquake, and the message is all the more significant since the devastation and horrors of the disaster were overwhelming and incomprehensible.

“Sala’s questions were always sharp and interesting, and while he was thinking about them he could also come up with new twists to the story.”

The idea for the bear, Tonkichi, to make honey pies originally comes from Sala when she ponders at the beginning of the story why Masakichi doesn’t make something with the honey he collects. The titular honey pie is the resolution that reunites the two bears in the story and a symbol of Sala’s ingenuity and inspiration. In Junpei’s life, Sala is the metaphorical honey pie that motivates him out of his passivity and motivates him to take initiative and reunite with Sayoko in a romantic relationship.