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A review by sacredblues
Birthday Stories: Selected and Introduced by Haruki Murakami by Haruki Murakami
3.0
As Haruki Murakami (01-12-1949) writes in his introduction, while birthdays typically bring connotations of joyful celebration and reflection, the stories in his anthology, are often painful and melancholic. To Murakami, this is due to the novelist being “incapable of taking the world at face value.” Despite (or because of) this unhappiness, many of these stories carry with them a subdued beauty. While not all the guests bring extravagant presents, some do, and all make their presence known, leading to a decent party overall.
I’m a fan of Haruki Murakami; I’d go as far as saying that he’s my favorite author. With this in mind, I was stoked to read an anthology by him. I was excited to see what stories he gravitated towards, how stories could be so wild as to impress Murakami. But if you’re looking for a wild Murakami ride, you may be in for some disappointment. Murakami definitely seems to stay his hand this time around. In fact, in Turning, Lynda Sexson (1952) may very well outweird Murakami in his own book. In all fairness Murakami’s Birthday Girl is indeed strange, but, much like the rest of the book, it doesn’t quite reach the level of absolute bonkers. This isn’t to say this is a detriment, but it’s something to keep in mind when approaching the book.
If that’s what this anthology isn’t, the question becomes what it is. It’s not as weird as some other Murakami works I’ve read, but a strangeness does tinge most of the stories. In addition, an air of light mystery permeates throughout. I have to commend Murakami for having such an eye for curation; as stated before, the works don’t just connect in theme, but in tone. What this is, then, is a collection of subdued, open-ended birthday woes. They’re not as whimsical as what I’ve come to expect from Murakami, but these presents certainly rise above the humdrum of many literary fiction pieces.
That’s all fine and dandy, but then what exactly do I think about the presents? While there are some real knock-outs, others are the type you forget about the week after. You don’t necessarily hate them since you’re grateful you got a gift in the first place, but when all the guests have gone home, you can’t really fake your enthusiasm for what they’ve brought.
Allow me to briefly go through each of the stories in the collection.
Russel Banks’ (02-28-1940) The Moor starts the collection off with a bang and is probably my second favorite story of the anthology. It’s notable for being arguably the happiest story in the collection. While it might not contain the unbridled joy of the stereotypical birthday party, it’s sweet and tender. It’s certainly reflective, but that reflection is so neutral that it doesn’t dip into melancholic territory. Plus it depicts a fairly unique romance, and that’s always good. While first impressions might not mean everything, they certainly mean a lot and The Moor gave the collection a lot of forward momentum.
Denis Johnson’s (07-01-1949) Dundun continues with this momentum, giving us a very stark pessimism that contrasts with the soft optimism of The Moor. While it’s not the saddest story, it’s easily the most violent and sticks with me.
William Trevor’s (05-24-1928) Timothy’s Birthday is the first of the duds. It’s a fine story, I suppose, but it’s a story that didn’t connect to me. Not necessarily because of subject matter, but more because I was unsure of what exactly the subject matter was. Trevor constructed his story in a way that kind of makes it hard to parse out character relations and setting. I know I said there’s an air of mystery throughout the collection, but here it makes the story unsatisfying. And subject matter plays a part, too. This ultimately feels like the most “normal” story of the bunch. There’s genuine emotion here, but a mere day after finishing the book, it’s hard to connect the title to the story.
After a baton pass, Daniel Lyons’ (1960) The Birthday Cake regains the speed the previous story lost with a simple yet gripping premise as readers must grapple with hatred and entitlement in the face of a day of celebration. It’s pretty striking how simple the story is, yet gripping.
Lynda Sexson’s Turning shows up Murakami in sheer what-did-I-just-read, but unfortunately, for me, it’s a lot of style with not a lot of substance to back it up. That might not be quite fair, but I was unsure of the point of this story’s weirdness. The story elicited a head scratch before promptly moving on.
David Foster Wallace’s (02-21-1962) Forever Overheard was a novel coming-of-age story wrapped into a small package. I particularly like the use of second-person, inviting the readers into the story in a way that the other stories don’t. However, I can’t help but feel that it might be the worst of the best in this collection. I can appreciate the story on a technical level, but at the same time, I didn’t find it the most exciting read. However, it sticks with me and the use of metaphor is brilliant, so I don’t have too much to fault the story over.
Ethan Canin’s (07-19-1960) Angel of Mercy, Angel of Wrath might not be as foreboding as its title would imply, but it does carry some of the strangeness I’d expect from this anthology and for it, it’s one of my favorites. It doesn’t hurt that it’s pretty positive, at the end of the day.
Andrea Lee’s (1953) The Birthday Present is a present in and of itself and is easily my favorite story of the anthology. As Murakami says in his introduction, the story “carries a real wallop.” It had my heart pounding from start to finish. It certainly is a weird story, though it isn’t a gimmicky story, using its strangeness to analyze relationships, love, and loneliness. Perhaps the biggest reason I love it is due to my fascination with sex. Whatever the reason, it sticks with me and I’d recommend this anthology just for The Birthday Present alone.
Raymond Carver’s (05-25-1935) The Bath is a story that’s easily recognizable and shocking. It’s somehow simultaneously both mellow and charged. It’s the most dire and grim story in the book, yet it still manages to eke out a sliver of hope. While it might not be my favorite story in this collection, it’s certainly one of the best written.
Paul Theroux’s (04-10-1941) A Game of Dice is similar to The Birthday Present in a few ways: from general tone to subject matter. Both will manage to disgust you in the same way if you find yourself prickling at sexuality in literature. I liked both of them. While A Game of Dice is not quite as “punchy” as Lee’s piece, it does have the benefit of having an “aha!” moment at the end that will make you want to reread the piece in light of new information.
Claire Keegan’s (1968) Close to the Water’s Edge manages to be touching and while not leaving much of an impact on me. It’s certainly a story that makes you think, but not too deeply, plus I don’t think it’s ambiguity works too well.
Lewis Robinson’s (05-05-1971) Ride combines childhood whimsy with the pain and cynicism of growing up...and much like Keegan’s piece, it really doesn’t do much, for me, unfortunately, and I can’t quite articulate why.
Finally, there’s Murakami himself and his piece, Birthday Girl. Ultimately, I’m left wondering if this piece sticks out due to its own merits or due to its placement smack dab at the end. However, as weird as he can get or no, the story certainly is weird and it’s unquestionably Murakami. Your enjoyment of this piece hinges on how much you enjoy his slightly surreal style. For what it’s worth, I enjoyed it.
With all of my opinions in front of me, I ultimately liked more stories than I disliked. With that in mind, many of the ones I liked didn’t blow me away. At the end of the day, Birthday Stories might not be the best collection ever, but it has enough unique and engaging stories that I left feeling satisfied. If you're in the mood for a cake that’s often bitter yet tasty, then you should dig into this anthology.
7.8/10
C+
I’m a fan of Haruki Murakami; I’d go as far as saying that he’s my favorite author. With this in mind, I was stoked to read an anthology by him. I was excited to see what stories he gravitated towards, how stories could be so wild as to impress Murakami. But if you’re looking for a wild Murakami ride, you may be in for some disappointment. Murakami definitely seems to stay his hand this time around. In fact, in Turning, Lynda Sexson (1952) may very well outweird Murakami in his own book. In all fairness Murakami’s Birthday Girl is indeed strange, but, much like the rest of the book, it doesn’t quite reach the level of absolute bonkers. This isn’t to say this is a detriment, but it’s something to keep in mind when approaching the book.
If that’s what this anthology isn’t, the question becomes what it is. It’s not as weird as some other Murakami works I’ve read, but a strangeness does tinge most of the stories. In addition, an air of light mystery permeates throughout. I have to commend Murakami for having such an eye for curation; as stated before, the works don’t just connect in theme, but in tone. What this is, then, is a collection of subdued, open-ended birthday woes. They’re not as whimsical as what I’ve come to expect from Murakami, but these presents certainly rise above the humdrum of many literary fiction pieces.
That’s all fine and dandy, but then what exactly do I think about the presents? While there are some real knock-outs, others are the type you forget about the week after. You don’t necessarily hate them since you’re grateful you got a gift in the first place, but when all the guests have gone home, you can’t really fake your enthusiasm for what they’ve brought.
Allow me to briefly go through each of the stories in the collection.
Russel Banks’ (02-28-1940) The Moor starts the collection off with a bang and is probably my second favorite story of the anthology. It’s notable for being arguably the happiest story in the collection. While it might not contain the unbridled joy of the stereotypical birthday party, it’s sweet and tender. It’s certainly reflective, but that reflection is so neutral that it doesn’t dip into melancholic territory. Plus it depicts a fairly unique romance, and that’s always good. While first impressions might not mean everything, they certainly mean a lot and The Moor gave the collection a lot of forward momentum.
Denis Johnson’s (07-01-1949) Dundun continues with this momentum, giving us a very stark pessimism that contrasts with the soft optimism of The Moor. While it’s not the saddest story, it’s easily the most violent and sticks with me.
William Trevor’s (05-24-1928) Timothy’s Birthday is the first of the duds. It’s a fine story, I suppose, but it’s a story that didn’t connect to me. Not necessarily because of subject matter, but more because I was unsure of what exactly the subject matter was. Trevor constructed his story in a way that kind of makes it hard to parse out character relations and setting. I know I said there’s an air of mystery throughout the collection, but here it makes the story unsatisfying. And subject matter plays a part, too. This ultimately feels like the most “normal” story of the bunch. There’s genuine emotion here, but a mere day after finishing the book, it’s hard to connect the title to the story.
After a baton pass, Daniel Lyons’ (1960) The Birthday Cake regains the speed the previous story lost with a simple yet gripping premise as readers must grapple with hatred and entitlement in the face of a day of celebration. It’s pretty striking how simple the story is, yet gripping.
Lynda Sexson’s Turning shows up Murakami in sheer what-did-I-just-read, but unfortunately, for me, it’s a lot of style with not a lot of substance to back it up. That might not be quite fair, but I was unsure of the point of this story’s weirdness. The story elicited a head scratch before promptly moving on.
David Foster Wallace’s (02-21-1962) Forever Overheard was a novel coming-of-age story wrapped into a small package. I particularly like the use of second-person, inviting the readers into the story in a way that the other stories don’t. However, I can’t help but feel that it might be the worst of the best in this collection. I can appreciate the story on a technical level, but at the same time, I didn’t find it the most exciting read. However, it sticks with me and the use of metaphor is brilliant, so I don’t have too much to fault the story over.
Ethan Canin’s (07-19-1960) Angel of Mercy, Angel of Wrath might not be as foreboding as its title would imply, but it does carry some of the strangeness I’d expect from this anthology and for it, it’s one of my favorites. It doesn’t hurt that it’s pretty positive, at the end of the day.
Andrea Lee’s (1953) The Birthday Present is a present in and of itself and is easily my favorite story of the anthology. As Murakami says in his introduction, the story “carries a real wallop.” It had my heart pounding from start to finish. It certainly is a weird story, though it isn’t a gimmicky story, using its strangeness to analyze relationships, love, and loneliness. Perhaps the biggest reason I love it is due to my fascination with sex. Whatever the reason, it sticks with me and I’d recommend this anthology just for The Birthday Present alone.
Raymond Carver’s (05-25-1935) The Bath is a story that’s easily recognizable and shocking. It’s somehow simultaneously both mellow and charged. It’s the most dire and grim story in the book, yet it still manages to eke out a sliver of hope. While it might not be my favorite story in this collection, it’s certainly one of the best written.
Paul Theroux’s (04-10-1941) A Game of Dice is similar to The Birthday Present in a few ways: from general tone to subject matter. Both will manage to disgust you in the same way if you find yourself prickling at sexuality in literature. I liked both of them. While A Game of Dice is not quite as “punchy” as Lee’s piece, it does have the benefit of having an “aha!” moment at the end that will make you want to reread the piece in light of new information.
Claire Keegan’s (1968) Close to the Water’s Edge manages to be touching and while not leaving much of an impact on me. It’s certainly a story that makes you think, but not too deeply, plus I don’t think it’s ambiguity works too well.
Lewis Robinson’s (05-05-1971) Ride combines childhood whimsy with the pain and cynicism of growing up...and much like Keegan’s piece, it really doesn’t do much, for me, unfortunately, and I can’t quite articulate why.
Finally, there’s Murakami himself and his piece, Birthday Girl. Ultimately, I’m left wondering if this piece sticks out due to its own merits or due to its placement smack dab at the end. However, as weird as he can get or no, the story certainly is weird and it’s unquestionably Murakami. Your enjoyment of this piece hinges on how much you enjoy his slightly surreal style. For what it’s worth, I enjoyed it.
With all of my opinions in front of me, I ultimately liked more stories than I disliked. With that in mind, many of the ones I liked didn’t blow me away. At the end of the day, Birthday Stories might not be the best collection ever, but it has enough unique and engaging stories that I left feeling satisfied. If you're in the mood for a cake that’s often bitter yet tasty, then you should dig into this anthology.
7.8/10
C+