And another thing I feel a little proud of is that as I’ve published books over the last thirty-five years, the number of readers has steadily climbed. Norwegian Wood, of course, sold the most by far; but apart from that floating layer of readers and the temporary surge in numbers, it appears that the numbers of the base layer—those who wait for my latest book and buy it and read it—have continuously, and steadily, gone up. You can see that in the numbers, but I also get a strong visceral sense of it myself, too. Again, this is happening not just in Japan but overseas as well. Interestingly, readers both in Japan and abroad understand my books in pretty much the same way.
To put it another way, over a long period of time I think I’ve constructed a system whereby readers and myself are connected by a stout pipeline that allows us to communicate. This is a system in which the media and the literary industry aren’t needed much as an intermediary. What’s needed most there is a natural, spontaneous sense of trust between author and readers. Without a feeling of trust, in which many readers feel “If it’s one of Murakami’s books, then I’ll buy it and read it, and I know I won’t regret it”—without this sense of trust, no matter how thick this direct pipeline may be, the system won’t stand for long.
Years ago, I happened to meet and talk with the author John Irving, and he told me an interesting thing about his connections with readers. “The most important thing,” he said, “is to mainline the readers. I know it’s kind of a coarse way of putting it.” To create this unbreakable connection between you where the reader can’t wait for the next hit. I get it as a metaphor, but since the image is so antisocial I prefer using the gentler expression “direct pipeline.” But what we’re saying is nearly the same. You have to have that kind of intimate, physical sensation—that “Hey, bro, got something here you’re gonna love” sense—that sort of direct deal between author and reader.
I sometimes get interesting letters from readers. “I read your latest book, Mr. Murakami, and was disappointed. Unfortunately I just couldn’t get into it. But I’m definitely buying the next one. Keep up the good work!” That kind of message. Truth be told, I love readers like that and am very grateful for them. Because in that message there’s a clear sense of trust. And that makes me feel I’d better do a great job on the next book. And I hope with all my heart that he/she will like it. Of course, since “you can’t please everyone,” I don’t know if it will actually turn out that way or not.
Skip Notes
* Editor’s Note: After the original publication of this book, Haruki Murakami began hosting his own radio program, Murakami Radio, in Japan.
Going Abroad: A New Frontier
My works were first really introduced in America near the end of the 1980s. This happened when Kodansha International （KI）， a subsidiary of the Japanese publisher Kodansha, published a hardcover edition of the English translation of my novel A Wild Sheep Chase, and several of my short stories were published in The New Yorker. At the time Kodansha International had an office in central Manhattan, hired local editors on staff, and was very actively promoting Japanese literature. They were attempting to venture into the American publishing industry. Later on, this company became Kodansha America （KA）。
Elmer Luke, a Chinese American man, led the editorial team, and there were several other able staff members as well, specialists in PR and sales. The president was a Mr. Tetsu Shirai, the type who didn’t insist on running the company in a typically fussy Japanese style but let the American staff work as they pleased. So the atmosphere at the company was pretty relaxed. The American staff there were very enthusiastic about getting my work published in the US. Later on, I lived in New Jersey, so when I went into New York I’d stop by the KA office on Broadway and enjoy talking with them. The atmosphere was more like a US company than a Japanese one. The staff were all New Yorkers, very lively and capable, and it was a real pleasure working with them. I have a lot of good memories from those times. I was almost forty at the time, and all kinds of interesting things happened in my life then. Even now I keep in touch with some of these staff members.
Thanks to Alfred Birnbaum’s lively translation, A Wild Sheep Chase was better received than expected, reviewed at length in The New York Times and praised by John Updike in a review in The New Yorker. In terms of sales, though, it wasn’t all that successful. Kodansha International was still a newcomer in the publishing world, and I was of course unknown, and books like that aren’t displayed very prominently in bookstores. It might have been better if they’d had e-books and online shopping like now, but back then these were still a long way off. So though the book did get talked about, this didn’t translate directly into sales. Later, though, when A Wild Sheep Chase came out in a Vintage paperback edition, it turned into a book with strong and steady sales.