September 8, 2009

The Seventh Man



"My fear was totally groundless, and totally real."

If you've ever been pulled underwater by a current or found yourself cowering at the sound of thunder, you know the power of oceans, forests, weather and storms to overwhelm us completely and stir up elemental anxiety about the intentions of natural forces.

I first listened to the short story, "The Seventh Man," by Haruki Murakami last summer, read aloud by John Shea on the PRI program Selected Shorts. The story reminded me of one of my favorite childhood books, "Time of Wonder" by Robert McCloskey. In that story, children visiting Maine help prepare for a summer storm, wait it out indoors, then after it passes over they marvel at the the power of the storm to uproot trees and scatter debris. The story has hardly any plot at all, it's so peaceful and quiet it puts children to sleep.

"The Seventh Man" has a storm at its center too, hearing it roar through a remote place and hearing the quiet of its eye, but this story is dark and strange. In this relatively simple story, Murakami incorporates themes about nature, its misunderstood power and the way we imagine its will. He also touches on friendship, regret and guilt.

The story perfectly expresses the remembering and recounting of traumatic event, the way the details are scrutinized, the emphatic insistence on the realness of what occured, the way the teller colors the set-up to the event with their knowledge of what's to come, and the reverberations of the memory over time.

The reading is at times a little overwrought, but it's that energy that gives the story a careening feeling, like you're not sure where it's going, and you're not sure if you can believe the narrator.


Description of the episode on WNYC's website

Listen below (it's a little slow to start, but works)









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