1Q84

Before the school holidays set in, I stocked up on books to read during my time away from bells and students and worksheets. I was probably very ambitious in what I had hoped to get through, though teachers are told that high expectations have a positive impact on results so why not apply the same logic to my own reading? After Killing Commendatore proved to be such an enthralling, unsettling book that continues to occupy my daydreams over a beer (San Miguel is the flavour of choice at the moment)  or wine (pinot noir is always the flavour of choice) in the backyard as day blends into afternoon in the final peace before the much welcome disruption to regular order arrives home (that is, our daughter), I decided to double down on Murakami books.

Out of this Murakami pile, I picked up the longest book (some 1318 pages) to try and knock off first not for any other reason than if I didn’t manage to finish this one now, in these holidays which are 5 to 6 weeks or so, then I would likely never read it. That book – 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami – would therefore (in my original logic) not feature as a blog post here for some time (say, February – if ever!). And, as I read it, I began to think that while highly engaging it may prove difficult to write something about.

That’s not to say that the book is devoid of any interesting or distinguishing features; it is bursting at the seems of things to be said about it. But in a trilogy of books combined at 1318 pages … where would I begin? I had thought that maybe a post at the end of each book in the series, but the books themselves are proving an enigma to try and point at anything that would suit both the tone of this blog and as something that might not reveal too much about the story.

Then, today, something jumped off the page that just screamed out at me as the thing to write about. A passage replete with all of those literacy characteristics a high school student would salivate over (intertextuality, driving dialogue, a moment that should spur real introspection for both the protagonist and the reader) but, more meaningful for this blog, also a passage that stops to reflect on history!

The passage begins on p. 367 (at least in this edition) where the two central characters in one of the parallel stories – Tengo and Fuka-Eri – discuss George Orwell’s 1984. Tengo provides a succinct summary of the basic plot, emphasising two points: The manipulation of language central to the controlling power of Big Brother, and the general lack of will and control Orwell depicts the future with. But this quickly transitions into a more substantial drawing-out of the role history plays in not just 1984, but for individuals and wider society:

“Information is restricted, and history is constantly being rewritten. The protagonist works in a government officer and I’m pretty sure his job is to rewrite words. Whenever a new history is written, the old histories all have to be thrown out. In the process, words are remade, and the meanings of current words are changed. What with history being rewritten so often, nobody knows what is true anymore. They lose track of who is an enemy and who an ally. It’s that kind of story.”

“They rewrite history.”

“Robbing people of their actual history is the same as robbing them of part of themselves. It’s a crime.”

Fuka-Eri thought about that for a moment.

Tengo went on, “Our memory is made up of our individual memories and our collective memories. The two are intimately linked. And history is our collective memory. If our collective memory is taken from us – is rewritten – we lose the ability to sustain our true selves.”

I (along with any other teacher of the course I always seem too come back to) could make a running series of lessons with this passage! There is so much to think about, to chew on and then spit out with all the momentary conviction one can muster until the inherent contradictions of the discipline of history itself changes one’s mind.

Immediately what sprang to mind when I composed my thoughts about this moment in the book later in the afternoon was this advertisement that has started to occupy space on mine (and all Australians’) televisions:

Seemingly different this year is not an advertisement for the consumption of lamb on Australia but an actual well thought out and nationally introspective ad that probably achieves more changed minds and hearts (even if incremental) than any other governmental effort in recent history (has there even been any effort previous to now?). When I first saw the ad I couldn’t help but actually acknowledge what it was saying despite the fact I’m hardly the target audience. Nothing being said was fundamentally profound to me but it did make re-open my eyes to the fact that some people’s ‘story’ of Australia has been – rightly or wrongly – pushed to the margins in recent times (the more Liberal / conservative / optimistic story) at the expense of ‘correcting’ the narrative.

I use ‘correcting’ here for no other reason than it, with the inverted commas, encapsulates what I believe to be the development of the Australian historical story or narrative within my lifetime at least. Whether it’s the correct word to use or not is best saved for another bog post!

Now, in trying to draw back to the the thin thread that seemingly connects that ad with the passage previously quoted: I found it problematic (?) that Tengo used the words “actual history”. This, for my mind, is dangerously close to the notion that there is this objective truth that we can extract from the past and slap the label of ‘history’ on it. I suspect that Murakami chose this more for the characterisation effect and to say more about Tengo that his philosophy of history, but the history teacher in me couldn’t help but go on a tangent, some wild goose chase in regards to my own philosophy of history.

Accepting that Orwell’s 1984 is an extreme depiction of a totalitarian dystopia, taking the whole proposition to absurdity, I did draw an immediate link to that ad. What would Tengo say of this ad when compared to, say, the public displays and commentary about 1988 and the Bicentenary? Or the Sesquicentenary in 1938? What about even the general public consensus in the Howard Years? Has history been rewritten? There is a distinct difference in the narrative – and so has “a crime” been committed?

On thinking more about this, is the difference actually proof of what Tengo said: That previous traditional Australian narratives and public stories that appear with increased frequency through January were the “crimes” and this more recent effort to synthesise both the ‘optimistic’ narrative of Australia (of which there are many who both experienced this and hold true to it) and the ‘Invasion Day’ narrative of Australia (of which there are also many who both experienced this and hold true to it too) is the practical application of Tengo’s words.

The ad illustrates the diversity of experience and of voices one could expect to find if they were to venture outside of the comfort of their own narratives. This process doesn’t deny the existence of anyone’s experiences or personal history, but it does create a more varied and desperate collective experience. Knowing that one’s own experience – one’s own history – is both similar to some and different to others should, for my mind, allow us to “sustain our true selves” as Tengo suggested.

Though maybe I would adjust that to ‘our truer selves’ and, through this, a truer national history.