I put the thin fragment of glass, dripping blood, in my pocket, and ran out into the misty road. The doors and windows of the houses were shut, nothing was moving. I thought I'd been swallowed by a huge living thing, that I was turning around and around in its stomach like the hero of some fairy tale. Almost Transparent BlueA warning to any potential readers of this book. There is explicit, graphic sex in the first half of this novel. If you are prudish about group sex, alternative sex, or say sex involving a foot that will be seared into your memory for the rest of your life you should avoid this novel. If you have issues with rampant drug use and drug/alcohol induced vomiting you should avoid this novel. The first cool thing about this novel is the fact that it was published in 1976 almost a full decade before Bret Easton Elliscame up out of his own drug induced haze to write the novel Less Than Zero. I read Ellis and I read Bright Lights, Big City, and later The Secret Historyand enjoyed them to varying degrees. I'd heard of the other Murakami, but his books were somewhat elusive to me in the 1980s. So finally here in 2012 I read this book and discover that if I had read this book back in 1985 I would have laughed at the feeble attempts of the "brat pack" to write "edgy" novels. I wonder did Ellis read this book before he wrote Less Than Zero? This book kicks you in the nuts and as your falling to the ground you catch a knee to the chin that stands you back up so Murakami can slug you a few more times before letting you fall into bloody heap wishing you could reach that syringe full of smack just beyond your blood dripping reach. Our characters get into an altercation with a security guard. They break his arm, but they don't stop there. By the time they are done he is a mess.The blood smeared and dripping over the lower half of his face was a black mask. The veins in his forehead bulging, he tried to pull himself along by his elbows. Perhaps seized by some fresh pain, he mumbled, lay on his side, his feet trembling. His vomit-covered belly heaved up and down.There is a lack of humanity running through this novel. The main characters are horrible to everyone including each other. Ryu, the main character and also the stand in for the author, does show some real tenderness towards his friends, but not without some sensual benefit to himself. There is a lack of soul, not in the religious sense because that is all silly nonsense (as if my life force can be bartered with), but in the lack of substance in these characters. I read a book several years ago, part of a trilogy of which only two parts have been published, by a guy named James A. Mangum. In one of the two books, memory escapes me, he talks about these "soulless" creatures walking the Earth, the offspring of "Angels" and human females. They lack a soul because they are not exactly human, but they are able to assimilate with their soul carrying brethren. They lack that important part of humanity that allows us to really care about each other. I think we've all met people that resemble that description. The really scary part about accepting any of this as potentially true is that as these soulless creatures mate with other humans their offspring is also soulless. With each generation more humanity is lost.I read Less than Zero for a second time a couple of years ago before I read Imperial Bedroomsand I thought about the Mangum concept then as well. There is something missing in these characters and of course the drug use, the promiscuous sex, random violence, alcohol induced vomiting is all an attempt to feel something, anything. The crew goes to party with some American black men from the military base that is near where they live. Ryu is sharing a description of the scene.I was completely stoned. I felt as if my insides were oozing out through every pore, and other people's sweat and breath were flowing in. Especially the lower half of my body felt heavy and sore, as if sunk into thick mud, and my mouth itched to hold somebody's prick and drain it. While we ate the fruit piled on plates and drank wine, the whole room was raped with heat. I wanted my skin peeled off. I wanted to take in the greased, shiny bodies of the black men and rock them inside me. Cherry cheesecake, grapes in black hands, steaming boiled crab legs breaking with a snap, clear sweet pale purple American wine, pickles like dead men's wart-covered fingers, bacon sandwiches like the mouths of women, salad dripping pink mayonnaise.There are cockroaches that spew different colors when crushed. There is a pet rabbitcide. There is a doctor that explains to Yoshiyama, being treated for a suicide attempt, the absolute best way to kill himself next time. They ingest mescaline, acid, heroin, Hyminol, Nibrole, glue, marijuana, and something called a Crystal Ship. They don't want you looking at them, but they do everything they can to insure that you are watching.Even moments of beauty are seen with jaded eyes. At the edge of the wide grounds was a pool, and around it flowers were planted. Like the eruptions on a rotting corpse, like a serum with multiplying cancer cells, the flowers were blooming. Against the background of a wall that rippled like white cloth, they scattered on the ground or suddenly danced up in the wind. I'm cold, as if I were dead. The Other MurakamiI was uncertain of this book for the first fifty pages. If I were one of those reviewers that reviews books that they don't finish I would have given it two stars, but as the book moves forward I started to begrudgingly change my mind about the book. It is hard to adjust first impressions, but the accumulation of stark images started to impress me. You may toss this book across the room a few times (hopefully not the first edition hardcover as it is becoming rather rare), but let it set for a few minutes, a few hours, or a few days and then pick it back up again. This book broke ground and the imitators that came later don't measure up.
As soon as I had read the first page, I knew that I had read “Almost Transparent Blue” at least once many years ago. Even though the weighty & lengthy TBR shelf chides me, I read it through on a long train ride. And I am glad I did. I know like and appreciate this more more than I did before.This is Murakami-san’s first novel written in his youth about even younger youths. Is it autobiographical? I don’t know and don’t recall anyone ever saying so definitively. The main character shares his personal name “Ryu” and certain places and situations reflect locations that the author was exposed to in these and earlier years.You could call the novel “decadent”. You could also call it “self-indulgent” (“Ryu” and his friends are very much so). And despite it not having a traditional plot, I think that the layout of the novel and its progression was worked out either during the writing of the novel or during his editing (if any). Because with this second (third possibly?) reading I was able to see more of a pattern to it. But it feels like a stream-of-consciousness account of several days in the life of “Ryu”. How consecutive these days are or are not is difficult to discern.Was it written as a form or rebellion against the status quo? Probably. In the 70s in Japan, as well as the US, the counter-culture that took root at the end of the 60s was still in full swing. The author himself participated in similar things as what goes on in the book. No matter how much we in the US think that society and family conspire to control how we behave and interact (I am taking the hard view here), it is nothing compared to those pressures in Japan and many other Asian countries.The phrase, “the nail that sticks up will be hammered down” is a true insight into how conformity has been the overwhelming force in Japanese society for hundreds of years. A small island with a large population and few natural resources, they exist in population concentrations that we seldom encounter. Thus, cooperation and conformity are almost a necessity (again I exaggerate). Under such “rules” there is always a backlash. And in Japan that backlash has and I think always will be spectacular.Many of my friends in Japan are non-traditional. Some more so than others, of course and none as wild as those in the novel. But, they have a spark in them that connects back to the rebellion that is in these characters. Asian cultures are often much more tolerant of the misdeeds of their children up until their twenties. But when they reach a certain age, then they are expected to transition into the role of good workers, citizens, and members of society. I’ve seen people who have done exactly that and others who reversed course and took themselves further out of play.At the end of this novel, we are left to wonder what will happen to most of the players. But one, and perhaps the most surprising one, peels away and is not heard from again. Have they made their leap into conformity? We are never sure. But it is implied.(Note there is another character who tells “Ryu” that this is almost exactly her own plan. Once she is bored with all of this (i.e. the drugs, sex, and rock n’ roll) she will settle down and get married.)This is a stupendous first book by an author who went on to pen other works that have also been critically (and popularly) acclaimed. It can easily turn many people off, but it is different, strong, and entertaining. Four (4) star minimum – maybe “4.5”.
Do You like book Almost Transparent Blue (2003)?
3"JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS"STARS** I've never touched a drug a day in my life, yet this book has me contemplating checking myself into a rehab facility. In all seriousness though, the author writing is riveting.Almost Transparent Blue is raw, gritty and shows the reader a realistic day in the life of an addict(s) (at least I think so).... Hell, I felt like a creepy spectator watching the junkie games. ** cringe** So the morale of the story folks----> Drugs will turn you into a stinky, sticky and sweaty orgy loving hoebag . You will vomit numerous times throughout the day and your friends will be disappointed when your current overdose doesn't do you in (DOA). Any questions ?
—JaHy☝Hold the Fairy Dust
I almost stopped reading this after the first few pages, and when I reluctantly decided I'd read the whole thing, I felt pretty sure I wouldn't read any more of Ryū Murakami. But somehow, by the time i reached the end I was incredibly impressed, and want to read more.There isn't much plot - the story is about a set of young characters who take drugs and have sex, often violent sex, swapping partners, etc. The descriptions are very vivid and sensual - you get the smells, the details of bodily fluids, the tiny visual details. You are experiencing it with the characters - smelling their smells, seeing their pubic hair, feeling their cognitive distortions, etc. Which is why I wanted to stop reading - this isn't something I enjoy experiencing! At the same time, I was amazed by the vividness, almost poeticnesss, of the writing, and I was curious where the story would lead. To begin with it seemed like it would be purely description, with no reflection, no indication of looking beyond this way of life, but as the novel goes on, the characters do reflect and you get a sense of their emptiness and lostness and desire for something more. For me, that was essential - if it had been simply one long vivid description of being high, stoned, having orgies, I'd have found it interesting and clever, but would soon have had enough and not wanted to read any more. But as soon as the characters start expressing reflection on their lives, wanting to look beyond the immediate, feeling frustrate and empty, then I started to find them interesting - to begin with, it's like they purely sex objects.It is quite unlike anything I've read before.
—Gail
I don’t have much to say about this brief and rather shallow debut, which details the squalid sex-and-drug-fueled existences of a group of young Japanese lowlifes/layabouts in the 1970s, except that it’s lurid, grotesque, delirious, disturbing, and oddly compelling. (I say “compelling,” but my readerly propulsion through the book may simply have been my desire to escape from these sordid characters and their dead-end lives as soon as possible). I wouldn’t recommend this book to anyone or ever read it again, but it has a scorching power that’s impossible to deny, radiating moments of strange, sensuous, shocking beauty amidst the filth and fury.
—Erik
