While reading both “The Strange Library” and segments of The City and its Uncertain Walls, I kept returning back to ideas surrounding the accessibility of knowledge and truth, whether it be more introspective or factual truth. In both of these works, knowledge and/or truth is sought after by the protagonist: boku searching for the girl and town from his youth in The City and its Uncertain Walls and boku seeking information about tax collection during the Ottoman Empire at the strange library. Yet these pieces of knowledge are guarded, and inevitably censored, by a system of sorts, leaving little opportunity for dispersal.
The City and its Uncertain Walls in particular reminded me a lot of Lois Lowry’s The Giver, where the lead protagonist lives within a sterile, perfect, and emotionless society; this protagonist takes on a designated role of The Receiver who receives memories of the past, many of which include pain, love, or suffering. Boku takes on a similar role in this town, where he is the only one able to read the past dreams of its residents. Why are these memories and dreams locked away to the general public? Why does only one person become burdened with the role of carrying these pieces of information?
In “The Strange Library,” boku actively seeks answers to questions he has at the trusted location of the library, yet upon identifying sources to these questions, he becomes imprisoned by the old man and enters a strange, surreal world. The Sheep Man’s warning that the Old Man will eat his brains signified to me a form of censorship, and it also reminds me of the current issue of banning books in the U.S. A strange camaraderie between the girl, boku, and Sheep Man reflected a kind of oppressed group of individuals with whom knowledge and voice is forcibly taken away from them.
Perhaps these magical realist and bizarre narratives are Murakami’s way of critiquing systemic issues regarding accessibility and education.
Shi Shi
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