The City And Its Uncertain Walls separates the shadow from the self

Haruki Murakami — touted as a powerhouse of 20th-century Japanese literature — has published multiple best-selling novels during his more than 40 years as an author. With works translated into 50 different languages, Murakami’s work has been criticized by those inside and outside of Japan despite his legacy.

Murakami’s latest, The City And Its Uncertain Walls, continues this trend. While some say he lacks the ability to give depth to female characters, Murakami is praised for his ability to harness magical realism and themes of isolation to create compelling fiction.

The nameless protagonist starts the book off with a bang, talking about his lack of friends and interests, but that all changes once he meets a nameless girl at a writing competition. The two get close, and begin to date, but something else blossoms alongside their relationship. The girl begins to tell our protagonist that she isn’t a real person but a copy of one living in a town far away (her shadow, to be more precise). One day, she vanishes without a trace, and the main character stumbles upon the town she told him about. The novel asks a variety of questions as the protagonist struggles with feelings of isolation and purpose as he tries to make sense of the mysterious town.

Murakami decides to switch narratives in every other chapter, one telling the love story of the protagonist and his sweetheart while the other details his encounters with the The City ’s namesake town. The sections don’t dwell too long, eventually merging together into a singular narrative less than halfway through the book, creating a new take on  the commonly used dual narrative structure. 

Murakami continues his tradition of using fantastical elements to tell an incredibly human story. The town walls take on a persona of its own, and unicorns roam the fields in this mysterious town. The elements never stray too far into the fantastical, though, existing less as the subject of the story and more as a device for its messaging.

Alongside his trademark fantastical elements, Murakami’s eye for aesthetic cohesiveness continues within The City. Each nook and cranny of the book’s settings is aptly described and consistent in tone. The city feels foggy and mysterious, while the flashbacks to the burgeoning relationship are tinged with a reminiscent afterglow. These not only help characterize the settings but  provide insight into our protagonist and his state of mind, as he imparts his own insight onto the audience. 

The core message of the book is letting go of the past. The protagonist is given a perfect relationship (in his mind, at least) in his youth that is cut off abruptly. He never got closure and spent decades holding onto hope that he’d go to the town and meet his love again. This leads him to live a rather stagnant life with no interests or  job that truly passionate about, creating a wall between the narrator and others for the majority of the book. 

The City’s point of view was also an interesting choice, with each section’s overarching message taking on a unique perspective. The novel’s first part highlights the relationship between the protagonist and his love interest, which is further emphasized by the second-person perspective. The main character tells the story of the first section to his love interest (using “I” when referring to himself and “You” when referring to the girlfriend) which gives the story a more personal feel.  

While The City tells a decent narrative, it falls short regarding the characters. Some either don’t have names or have little to no personality besides their role in the story making them difficult to empathize with. The women in the book especially are hit or miss when it comes to their characterization, with the initial love interest having little to no personality besides her relationship with the protagonist. 

While it can be argued that this is an intentional choice by the writer, it makes the love interest feel less like a living person and more like an inanimate object. Considering how the narrator’s driving force is his attachment to his love interest, her lack of discernible traits and personal information creates a flimsy motivation for the protagonist to progress from story beat to story beat. 

Another female character, a librarian assistant named Mrs. Soeda, has a little more depth near the final sections of The City. However,  her introduction is hollow and utilitarian. She spends a considerable amount of time in the book functioning as an exposition dump for backstory and doesn’t have much of a personality to call her own. 

While there’s a lot to like about The City and Its Uncertain Walls from the detailed descriptions, engaging tone, and powerful message, the characters fall flat at times and can hold the story back from being the best it could possibly be.