Book Review: The City and Its Uncertain Walls by Haruki Murakami

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“The City and Its Uncertain Walls” begins with a young nameless couple. The story truly starts when the girl disappears and the boy, now a middle-aged man, decides to unravel the mystery of the walled city she once spoke of.

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“The City and Its Uncertain Walls” follows the journey of a middle-aged Japanese man as he seeks the other world — a walled city where true selves reside and memories are kept stored in a library — and as he navigates the real world, where he takes on the responsibility as the new head librarian in a small mountain town.

“The City and Its Uncertain Walls” definitely threw me in for a loop. Whenever I thought I was getting bored with the story, some new element was introduced to the world.

Given that this is Murakami’s return to fiction, and his rewritten work from 20+ years ago, the book has all of the inner workings of a typical Murakami novel: a lonely isolated character, obsession with the Beatles (the young boy with the Yellow Submarine shirt), the prevalence of books and libraries, magical realism, and an unnamed main character plagued by teenage nostalgia of a long lost girlfriend. Essentially, this book punches the squares on the Murakami Bingo.

I want to talk about the walled city, which is a fictional world created by a myth-making consciousness. We understand that the town and its conditions exist because of the unnamed main character “I” and his 17-year-old girlfriend:

Mainly you talked about how the town was laid out. I would ask practical questions and you would answer them, and as we did, the details of the town began to form and were transcribed. You were the one who created the town. Or maybe it was there, inside you, already. But when it came to putting the pieces together so you could visualize it, so you could describe it in words, I do think I played a role as well. You talked about it, and I wrote it all down. Like ancient philosophers and religious figures who had a faithful, meticulous scribe, or disciples, perhaps, at their side taking down their every word. I noted it all down in a special little notebook just for that purpose, the ever-competent secretary, or faithful disciple. That summer, the two of us were completely engrossed in this collaborative project of ours. (pp. 8-9)

To enter this magical walled city — where sacrificial unicorns roam, dreams are sorted by a dream catcher, and a strict gatekeeper guards the town — you must get rid of your shadow self, which will die a few days after the severing.

The separation between the self and the shadow self serves as a metaphor for immunity from human emotions and dreams:

It’s true that people there all have shadows with them.

In this town, people lack shadows. Once you get rid of your shadow, you really understand, for the first time, that shadows have their own weight. In the same way that you don’t ordinarily feel Earth’s gravity.

Getting rid of a shadow, of course, isn’t so easy. It’s disturbing to part with someone, no matter who it is, especially when you’ve spent so many years together with them and grown so close. When I came to this town, I had to leave my shadow with the Gatekeeper at the entrance.

“You can’t step inside the wall with a shadow,” the Gatekeeper informed me. “You either leave him here or give up on going inside. One or the other.”

I got rid of my shadow. (p. 35)

Since this walled town is created partially by his imagination, the rules do not always apply to the unnamed character. They shift according to his intentions instead.

It is only when he becomes troubled by the idea of killing his shadow that he truly understands the power that is conjured by his imagination:

“I’m sorry, but it’s hard to make up my mind.”

“Is something bothering you?”

Unsure how to reply, I looked away and gazed out the window. How should I explain it to him?

My shadow sighed. “I don’t know what happened, but I think the town is trying to stop you. Using all kinds of methods to do so.”

“Am I that important to the town? That it would go to such lengths to stop me?”

“Of course it would. I mean, it’s like you’re the one who created this town.”

“I didn’t do it on my own,” I said. “I just lent a hand, a long time ago.”

“But without your enthusiasm, all these detailed structures would never have come about. You supported this town for a long time, nourishing it with the power of your imagination.”

“It’s true this town came out of our imagination, but over time the town’s taken on a will of its own and has its own goals.”

“It’s beyond your control? Is that what you mean?”

I nodded. “This town is like a living being that moves on its own. A pliable, clever living being that changes shape as needed. I’ve sensed this ever since I came here.” (p. 100)

His shadow self (maybe his ‘real’ subconscious) explains to him how the city seems to operate. It is an enclosure, an epidemic of the mind serving to protect from what makes us human; our shadows and the memories they hold. It’s very Jungian to be honest:

“Seeds of the mind?”

“That’s right. Human emotions. Sadness, confusion, jealousy, fear, distress, despair, doubt, hatred, bewilderment, anguish, skepticism, self-pity…and dreams, and love. In this town, feelings are not just useless but harmful. Like seeds of an epidemic.”

“Seeds of an epidemic,” I said, repeating my shadow’s words.

“Yes. That’s why they’re completely scraped away and sealed in airtight containers, then stored deep inside the library. And ordinary people are forbidden to get near them.”

“So my role is—?”

“Is to take those souls—or echoes of the heart—calm them, and eliminate them. It’s not a job that shadows can do. Only real people, with real emotions, have empathy.”

“But why do they have to be calmed? They’re sealed away in airtight containers, content to be asleep, so you could just leave them be.”

“You can seal them away as tightly as you’d like, but the very fact of their existence is a threat. The town might think that somehow, the dreams will acquire the power to break free and escape. If that happened, the town would be destroyed. So they need someone to lessen that power, and dissolve it, if but a little. If someone listens to the voices of the old dreams, and dreams along with them, then maybe it will keep the dreams calm. That’s probably what they’re hoping for. And right now, the only one who can do that is you.” (p. 103)

In the end, there’s a lot to unpack with this story and I believe it is best experienced during a reread. The story can become quite convoluted, as well as confusing at times, as it is a dual timeline, following two separate libraries, lives, and memories.

Therefore, I am certain that I will reread this book in the future and come back to update and enrich this review.

If you like books about memories, dreams, books, libraries, second chances, shadow selves (and ghosts), then you will enjoy “The City and Its Uncertain Walls.”

I also filmed some of my non-spoiler thoughts about this book during a reading vlog, you can watch it here.

“That’s right. Human emotions. Sadness, confusion, jealousy, fear, distress, despair, doubt, hatred, bewilderment, anguish, skepticism, self-pity…and dreams, and love. In this town, feelings are not just useless but harmful. Like seeds of an epidemic.” (p.103)

García Márquez, a Colombian novelist who had no need of the distinction between the living and the dead.

What is real, and what is not? In this world is there really something like a wall separating reality from the unreal?

I think there might be. No, not might—there is one. But it’s an entirely uncertain wall. Depending on circumstances and the person, its texture, its shape transforms. Like some living being. (p. 399)

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