It’s like one of those Greek tragedy masks in a textbook that’s half one idea and half the opposite. My sister’s looking off to the side so half her face is in shadow and her smile is neatly cut in half. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step.Īnd you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you.
Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. After re-reading Kafka on the Shore I decided to compile a list of all the metaphors from the book for your convenience below. A reason for this is because of Murakami’s lucid world-transporting metaphors. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami is one of my favorite books.
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