Shigesato Itoi, by Haruki Murakami

my translation of the 39th story (out of 99) of 夢で会いましょう [Meet Me in a Dream] by Haruki Murakami and Shigesato Itoi, not guaranteed to be accurate. see the intro post to read more!

Truth be told, I’ve only met Shigesato Itoi a couple times. I don’t know him so well. By nature of my work I’m often alone, and I’m also shy by my own nature, so this isn’t only true of Itoi: there are many like him I barely know. And yet so often do I see his face or read his work in magazines, I feel we’re in constant contact. He’s a familiar face.

I’ve been a fan of his prose since I first read it nearly a decade ago, in Friends of the Middle Classes in Treasure Island¹. What a wonderful place to meet him: in his work.

In this world there’s good people who are terrible writers, same as there’s terrible people who write well. Where does Itoi fit in this spectrum? As always, he’s been a hard one to pin down. Perhaps we can say it like this: he in a different category than “novelist.”

As in a street fair for example (strange comparison, I know), once a “novelist’s” prose has closed up shop for the day, it’s lingering heat or shadow, perhaps, remains.² Itoi’s work however, once it’s packed and left, doesn’t leave a trace. The street remains as empty as before. Existence is the same as non-existence, and in that way Itoi has caused a heavenly transformation, in my opinion. Daily life is celebration now.