Kafka on the Shore

Chapter 40

Next to the sign that read Komura Memorial Library was an information placard informing them that the library's hours were eleven to five, except for Monday, when it was closed, that admission was free, and that tours were conducted every Tuesday at two p. m. Hoshino read all this aloud for Nakata.

"Today's Monday, so it's closed," Hoshino said. He glanced at his watch. "Not that it matters much, since it's way past their closing time anyway. Same difference."

"Mr. Hoshino?"

"Yeah?"

"This place doesn't look at all like the library we went to before," Nakata said.

"That was a large public library and this one's private. So the scale's different."

"When you say a private library, what does that mean?"

"It means some man of property who likes books puts up a building and makes all the books he's collected available to the public. This guy must have really been something. You can tell from the gate he had to be pretty impressive."

"What is a man of property?"

"A rich person."

"What's the difference between the two?"

Hoshino tilted his head in thought. "I don't know. Seems to me a man of property's more cultured than just a regular rich guy."

"Cultured?"

"Anybody who has money is rich. You or me, as long as we had money, we'd be rich. But becoming a man of property isn't so easy. It takes time."

"It's difficult to become one?"

"Yeah, it is. Not that we need to worry about it. I don't see either of us becoming rich, let alone cultured."

"Mr. Hoshino?"

"Yeah?"

"Since they're closed on Monday, if we come here tomorrow morning at eleven they should be open, right?" Nakata asked.

"I suppose so. Tomorrow's Tuesday."

"Will Nakata be able to go inside the library?"

"The sign says it's open to everybody. Of course you can."

"Even if I can't read?"

"No problem," Hoshino said. "They don't quiz people at the entrance about whether they can read or not."

"I want to go inside, then."

"We'll come back tomorrow, first thing, and go in together," Hoshino said. "I got a question for you first, though. This is the place you were looking for, right? And the thing you're looking for's inside?"

Nakata removed his cap and rubbed his close-cropped hair vigorously. "Yes. I think it's here."

"So we can give up our search?"

"That's right. The search is over."

"Thank God," Hoshino said. "I was starting to wonder if we'd really be driving around till fall."

The two of them drove back to Colonel Sanders's apartment, slept soundly, and set off at eleven the next morning for the library. It was only a twenty-minute walk from the apartment, so they decided to stroll over. Hoshino had already returned the rental car.

The gate of the library was open wide when they arrived. It looked like it was going to be a hot, humid day, and someone had splashed water on the pavement to keep the dust down. Past the gate was a neat, well-kept garden.

"Mr. Nakata?" Hoshino said in front of the gate.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"What do we do after we go inside the library? I'm always afraid you're all of a sudden gonna come up with some off-the-wall idea, so I'd like to know about it ahead of time. I have to prepare myself."

Nakata gave it some thought. "Nakata has no idea what to do once we get in. This is a library, though, so I thought we might start by reading books. I'll find a photo collection or book of paintings, and you can pick whatever you'd like to read."

"Gotcha. Starting off by reading-that makes sense."

"Then after a while we can think about what to do next."

"Okay," Hoshino said. "We'll think about what comes later-later. Sounds like a plan."

They walked through the beautiful garden and into the antique-looking entrance. There was a reception area right inside, with a handsome, slim young man seated behind the counter. He had on a white button-down shirt and small glasses. Long, fine hair hung over his forehead. Someone you might expect to see in a black-and-white Truffaut film, Hoshino thought.

The young man looked up at them and beamed.

"Good morning," Hoshino said cheerfully.

"Good morning," the young man replied. "Welcome to the library."

"We'd, uh-like to read some books."

"Of course," Oshima nodded. "Feel free to read whatever you like. We're open to the public. The stacks are completely open, so take any books you'd like to read. You can look books up in our card catalog or online. And if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'd be more than happy to help."

"That's very kind of you."

"Is there a particular field or book you're looking for?"

Hoshino shook his head. "Not really. Actually we're more interested in the library itself than books. We happened to pass by and thought the place looked interesting. It's a beautiful building."

Oshima gave a graceful smile and picked up a neatly sharpened pencil. "A lot of people just stop by like that."

"Glad to hear it," Hoshino said.

"If you have the time, you might consider the short tour of the place that takes place at two. We have one every Tuesday, as long as there are people who'd like to join in. The head of the library explains the background of the library. And today just happens to be Tuesday."

"That sounds like fun. Hey, what d'ya say, Mr. Nakata?"

All the time Hoshino and Oshima had been talking at the counter, Nakata stood off to one side, cap in hand, gazing vacantly at his surroundings. At the sound of his name, he came out of his daze. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"They have a tour of the library at two. You want to go on it?"

"Yes, Mr. Hoshino, thank you. Nakata would like to."

Oshima watched this exchange with great interest. Messrs. Hoshino and Nakata-what sort of relationship did they have to each other? They didn't seem like relatives. A strange combo, these two-with a vast difference in age and appearance. What could they possibly have in common? And this Mr. Nakata, the older one, had an odd way of speaking. There was something about him Oshima couldn't quite pin down. Not anything bad, though. "Have you traveled far to get here?" he asked.

"We came from Nagoya," Hoshino said hurriedly before Nakata could open his mouth. If he started in about being from Nakano, things could get a little sticky. The TV news had already put out the word that an old man like Nakata was connected with the murder there. Fortunately, though, as far as Hoshino knew, Nakata's photograph hadn't been made public.

"That's quite a journey," Oshima commented.

"Yes, we crossed a bridge to get here," Nakata said. "A long, wonderful bridge."

"It is pretty long, isn't it?" Oshima said. "Though I've never been over it myself."

"Nakata had never seen such a long bridge in all his life."

"It took a lot of time and a tremendous amount of money to build it," Oshima went on. "According to the newspaper, each year the public corporation that operates the bridge and the highway over it is a billion dollars in the red. Our taxes make up the shortfall."

"Nakata has no idea how much a billion is."

"I don't either, to tell you the truth," Oshima said. "After a certain point amounts like that aren't real anymore. Anyway, it's a huge amount of money."

"Thanks so much," Hoshino butted in. There was no telling what Nakata might say next, and he had to nip that possibility in the bud. "We should be here at two for the tour, right?"

"Yes, two would be fine," Oshima said. "The head librarian will be happy to show you around then."

"We'll be reading until then," Hoshino said.

Twirling his pencil in his hand, Oshima watched the retreating figures and then went back to work.

They picked some books from the stacks, Hoshino going for Beethoven and His Generation. Nakata picked out some photo collections and placed them on the table. Next, much like a dog might, he circled the room, carefully checking out everything, touching things, sniffing their odor, stopping at select spots to stare fixedly. They had the reading room to themselves until past twelve, so no one else noticed the old man's eccentric behavior.

"Hey, Gramps?" Hoshino whispered.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"This is kind of sudden, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention to anyone that you're from Nakano."

"Why is that?"

"It's a long story, just take my word for it. If people find out that's where you're from, it might cause them some trouble."

"I understand," Nakata said, nodding deeply. "It's not good to trouble others. Nakata won't say a word about being from Nakano."

"That'd be great," Hoshino said. "Oh-did you find whatever it is you're looking for?"

"No, nothing so far."

"But this is definitely the place?"

Nakata nodded. "It is. Last night I had a good talk with the stone before I went to bed. I'm sure this is the place."

"Thank God."

Hoshino nodded and returned to his biography. Beethoven, he learned, was a proud man who believed absolutely in his own abilities and never bothered to flatter the nobility. Believing that art itself, and the proper expression of emotions, was the most sublime thing in the world, he thought political power and wealth served only one purpose: to make art possible. When Haydn boarded with a noble family, as he did most of his professional life, he had to eat with the servants. Musicians of Haydn's generation were considered employees. (The unaffected and good-natured Haydn, though, much preferred this arrangement to the stiff and formal meals put on by the nobility.)

Beethoven, in contrast, was enraged by any such contemptuous treatment, on occasion smashing things against the wall in anger. He insisted that as far as meals went he be treated with no less respect than the nobility he ostensibly served. He often flew off the handle, and once angry was hard to calm down. On top of this were radical political ideas that he made no attempt to hide. As his hearing deteriorated, these tendencies became even more pronounced. As he aged his music also became both more expansive and more densely inward looking. Only Beethoven could have balanced these two contrasting tendencies. But the extraordinary effort this required had a progressively deleterious effect on his life, for all humans have physical and emotional limits, and by this time the composer had more than reached his.

Geniuses like that don't have it easy, Hoshino thought, impressed, and laid down his book. He remembered the bronze bust of a scowling Beethoven in the music room of his school, but until now he'd had no idea of the hardships the man had endured. No wonder the guy looked so sour. I'm never gonna be a genius, that's for sure, Hoshino thought.

He looked over at Nakata, who was deep into a photo collection of traditional folk furniture, and working an imaginary chisel and plane. These photos must've made him unconsciously feel like he was back at his old job. And Nakata-who knows? He might become a great person someday, Hoshino thought. Most people can't do the kinds of things he does. The old codger's definitely in a class all his own.

After twelve, two other readers, middle-aged women, came into the reading room, so Hoshino and Nakata used the opportunity to take a breather outside. Hoshino had brought some bread along for their lunch, while Nakata was lugging around his usual thermos of hot tea. Hoshino first asked Oshima at the counter whether it was all right to eat on the library grounds.

"Of course," Oshima replied. "It's nice to sit on the veranda overlooking the garden. Afterward, feel free to come in for a cup of coffee. I've already made some, so help yourself."

"Thanks," Hoshino said. "This is quite a homey place you have here."

Oshima smiled and brushed back his hair. "It is a little different from your normal library. Homey is a good way to describe it. What we're trying to create is sort of an intimate space where people can relax and enjoy reading."

Hoshino found Oshima an appealing young man. Intelligent, well groomed, obviously from a good family. And quite kind. He's got to be gay, right? Not that Hoshino cared. To each his own, was his thinking. Some men talk with stones, and some sleep with other men. Go figure.

After lunch, Hoshino stood up, stretched his whole body, then went back to the reception area to take Oshima up on his offer of a cup of coffee. Since Nakata didn't drink coffee, he stayed on the veranda sipping his tea and gazing at the birds flitting around the garden.

"So, did you find anything interesting to read?" Oshima asked Hoshino.

"Yeah, I've been reading a biography of Beethoven," Hoshino replied. "I like it. His life really gives you a lot to think about."

Oshima nodded. "He went through a lot-to put it mildly."

"He did have a tough time," Hoshino said, "but I think it was mainly his fault. I mean, he was so self-centered and uncooperative. All he thought about was himself and his music, and he didn't mind sacrificing whatever he had to for it. He must've been tough to get along with. Hey, Ludwig, gimme a break! That's what I would have said if I knew him. No wonder his nephew went off his rocker. But I have to admit his music is wonderful. It really gets to you. It's a strange thing."

"Absolutely," Oshima agreed.

"But why did he have to live such a hard, wild life? He would've been better off with a more normal type of life."

Oshima twirled the pencil around in his fingers. "I see your point, but by Beethoven's time people thought it was important to express the ego. Earlier, when there was an absolute monarchy, this would've been considered improper, socially deviant behavior and suppressed quite severely. Once the bourgeoisie came to power in the nineteenth century, however, that suppression came to an end and the individual ego was liberated to express itself. Freedom and the emancipation of the ego were synonymous. And art, music in particular, was at the forefront of all this. Those who came after Beethoven and lived under his shadow, so to speak-Berlioz, Wagner, Liszt, Schumann-all lived eccentric, stormy lives. Eccentricity was seen as almost the ideal lifestyle. The age of Romanticism, they called it. Though I'm sure living like that was pretty hard on them at times. So, you like Beethoven's music?"

"I can't really say if I do or not. I haven't heard that much," Hoshino admitted. "Hardly any at all, actually. I just kind of like that piece called the Archduke Trio."

"That is nice, yes."

"The Million-Dollar Trio's great," Hoshino added.

"I prefer the Czech group, the Suk Trio, myself," Oshima said. "They have a beautiful balance. You feel like you can smell the wind wafting over a green meadow. But I do know the Million-Dollar Trio version-Rubinstein, Heifetz, and Feuermann. It's an elegant performance."

"Um, Mr.-Oshima?" Hoshino asked, looking at the nameplate on the counter. "You know a lot about music, I can tell."

Oshima smiled. "Not a lot. I just enjoy listening to it."

"Do you think music has the power to change people? Like you listen to a piece and go through some major change inside?"

Oshima nodded. "Sure, that can happen. We have an experience-like a chemical reaction-that transforms something inside us. When we examine ourselves later on, we discover that all the standards we've lived by have shot up another notch and the world's opened up in unexpected ways. Yes, I've had that experience. Not often, but it has happened. It's like falling in love."

Hoshino had never fallen head over heels in love himself, but he went ahead and nodded anyway. "That's gotta be a very important thing, right?" he said. "For our lives?"

"It is," Oshima answered. "Without those peak experiences our lives would be pretty dull and flat. Berlioz put it this way: A life without once reading Hamlet is like a life spent in a coal mine."

"A coal mine?"

"Just typical nineteenth-century hyperbole."

"Well, thanks for the coffee," Hoshino said. "I'm happy we could talk."

Oshima gave him a big grin in reply.

Hoshino and Nakata read books until two, Nakata going through his carpenter's motions as he leafed through the collection of furniture photographs. Besides the middle-aged ladies, three other readers had joined them after lunch. But only Hoshino and Nakata asked to join the tour of the library.

"You don't mind if it's just the two of us?" Hoshino asked. "I feel bad you have to go to all this trouble just for us."

"No trouble at all," Oshima said. "The head librarian is happy to conduct the tour, even for one person."

At two on the dot a good-looking middle-aged woman came down the stairs. Back held straight, she had an impressive walk. She wore a dark blue suit with severe lines, black high heels, a thin silver necklace at her wide, open neckline, her hair gathered in the back. Nothing extraneous, altogether a highly refined, tasteful look.

"Hello. My name is Miss Saeki. I'm the head librarian here," the woman said, and smiled calmly.

"I'm Hoshino."

"I'm Nakata, and I'm from Nakano," the old man said, hiking hat in hand.

"We're glad you've come to visit us from so far away," Miss Saeki said.

A chill ran down Hoshino's spine at Nakata's words, but Miss Saeki didn't look suspicious.

Nakata was typically oblivious."Yes, I crossed over a very big bridge," he said.

"This is a wonderful building," Hoshino interjected, trying to cut off any talk of bridges.

"The building was built in the early Meiji period as the library and guesthouse of the Komura family," Miss Saeki began. "Many literati visited and lodged here. It's been designated a historical site by the city."

"Litter oddy?" Nakata asked.

Miss Saeki smiled. "Artists-poets, novelists, and so forth. In the past men of property in various localities helped support artists. Art was different back then, and wasn't viewed as something one should make a living at. The Komuras were men of property in this region who sponsored culture and the arts. This library was built, and is operated, to pass down that legacy to future generations."

"Man of property-Nakata knows what that means," Nakata said. "It takes a long time to become one."

Smiling, Miss Saeki nodded. "You're quite right, it does. No matter how much money you accumulate, you can't buy time. Well, we'll begin our tour on the second floor."

They toured the rooms upstairs one by one. Miss Saeki gave her usual talk about the various literati who had stayed there, and showed the two men the calligraphy and paintings these artists had left behind. During the tour Nakata seemed to turn a deaf ear to what she was saying, instead curiously examining each and every item. In the study Miss Saeki used as her office, a fountain pen was sitting on the desk. It was up to Hoshino to follow along and make all the appropriate noises. All the while he was on pins and needles, worried the old man would suddenly do something bizarre. But all Nakata did was continue to scrutinize the items they passed by. Miss Saeki didn't seem to care what Nakata did. Smiling all the while, she briskly showed them around. Hoshino was impressed by how calm and collected she was.

The tour ended in twenty minutes, and the two men thanked their guide. Miss Saeki's smile never failed the entire time. The more Hoshino watched her, though, the more confused he grew. She smiles and looks at us, he told himself, but she doesn't see anything. She's looking at us, but she's seeing something else. Though all the time she was giving the tour, even if her mind was elsewhere, she was perfectly polite and kind. Whenever he asked a question, she gave a kind, easy-to-follow response. It's not like she's doing this against her will or anything. A part of her enjoys doing a meticulous job. But her heart isn't in it.

The two men returned to the reading room and settled down on the sofa with their books. But as he turned the pages, Hoshino couldn't get Miss Saeki out of his mind. There was something very unusual about that beautiful woman, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He gave up and went back to reading.

At three o'clock, totally without warning, Nakata stood up. His movements were uncharacteristically decisive. He held his hat firmly in his hand.

"Hey, what's up? Where are you going?" Hoshino whispered.

But there was no response. Lips set in a determined look, Nakata was already hurrying toward the main entrance, his belongings left behind on the floor.

Hoshino shut his book and stood up. Something was definitely wrong. "Hey, wait up!" he called. Realizing the old man wasn't about to, he scrambled after him. The other readers looked up and watched him leave.

Before he got to the entrance, Nakata turned left and without hesitating started up to the second floor. A NO VISITORS ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT sign at the foot of the stairs didn't deter him, since he couldn't read. His worn tennis shoes squeaked on the floorboards as he climbed up the stairs.

"Excuse me," Oshima said, leaning over the counter to call out to the retreating figure. "That area is closed now."

Nakata didn't seem to hear him.

Hoshino ran up the stairs after him. "Gramps. It's closed. You can't go there."

Oshima came out from behind the counter and followed them up the stairs.

Undaunted, Nakata strode down the corridor and into the study. The door was open. Miss Saeki, her back to the window, was sitting at the desk reading a book. She heard the footsteps and looked up. When he got to the desk, Nakata stood there looking down at her face. Neither one of them said a word. A moment later Hoshino arrived, soon followed by Oshima.

"There you are," Hoshino said, tapping the old man on the shoulder. "You're not supposed to be here. It's off-limits. We have to leave, okay?"

"Nakata has something to say," Nakata said to Miss Saeki.

"And what would that be?" Miss Saeki asked quietly.

"I want to talk about the stone. The entrance stone."

For a while Miss Saeki silently studied the old man's face. Her eyes shone with a noncommittal light. She blinked a few times, then silently closed her book. She rested both hands on the desk and looked up again at Nakata. She looked undecided about how to proceed, but then gave a small nod.

She looked over at Hoshino, then at Oshima. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a while?" she said to Oshima. "We're going to have a talk. Please close the door on your way out."

Oshima hesitated, then nodded. He gently took Hoshino's arm, led him out to the corridor, and shut the door.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Hoshino asked.

"Miss Saeki knows what she's doing," Oshima said as he escorted Hoshino back down the stairs. "If she says it's all right, it's all right. No need to worry about her. So, Mr. Hoshino, why don't we go have a cup of coffee while we're waiting?"

"Well, when it comes to Mr. Nakata, worrying's a total waste of time," Hoshino said, shaking his head. "That I can guarantee."