Depth of Field
From “Super-Frog Saves Tokyo,” by Haruki Murakami (translated by Jay Rubin):
Frog stretched his arms out wide, his big green webs opening like pale wings. “Don’t worry, Mr. Katagiri. Leave everything to me. By tomorrow morning, old Frog will have your problems solved. Relax and have a good night’s sleep.”
With a big smile on his face, Frog stood up. Then, flattening himself like a dried squid, he slipped out through the gap at the side of the closed door, leaving Katagiri all alone. The two teacups on the kitchen table were the only indication that Frog had ever been in Katagiri’s apartment.
As thin a material as Frog made himself to slide through the gap of Mr. Katagiri’s closed door, it is that flattened and widened space with which Haruki Murakami’s writing concerns itself.
It is this kind of writing that you could read a hundred times and, in each new passing, find something new and profound to muse about.
A month ago, I saw this snippet as one — among the many in “Super-Frog Save Tokyo” — where reality met its opposition. I saw it as one where real-world concerns and dreamed imaginings touched, and through their touch, enhanced one another.
You see, Murakami uses Frog as a “real” and “genuine” animal who can “Ribit! Ri-i-i-bit!” and who can philosophize about being “pure Frog, but at the same time [be a] thing that stands for a world of un-Frog.” Murakami makes him real in the earlier pages of his story both through explicit definition and through the character’s musings. His outward croaking and his inner being fold into a whole that would be lesser without their fusing. Further, his wholeness makes it possible for Frog to speak in this passage about handling worldly problems before slipping into a sheet through the crack in the entryway.
A week following, I felt like this intersection of being concerned itself more with the interplay of child and adult themes than of being real or un-real.
Murakami molds Frog as a character both funny and profound. He makes Frog six feet tall, loud, jovial, and something that, if he were to be illustrated, would fill the background. He also repeats his teachings in regular spacing:
“Tell me, Mr. Frog—”
“Please,” Frog said, raising one finger. “Call me Frog.”
Again and again, he reminds Katagiri. It’s not unlike the moral of any children’s story you see addressed on each page of its book. The Hungry Caterpillar eats a sequential amount of foods not just for visual presentation and reinforcement of the skill of counting; it eats to prepare itself for transformation into a beautiful butterfly.
Through Frog, Murakami likewise builds a repetition of basic ideas into a theory of being and mind. The character becomes an idea (Frog) as he sheds the human conception of his physicality and appearance (Mr. Frog). What you see with your eyes fades into the background of something much farther reaching.
This week was I more captured by Murakami’s depiction of movement and influence than any of the above ideas.
The way Frog’s smile beams in the room and accompanies his dominating form when standing. The decisive flattening of his parts into something as thin as paper to exit the space. The lovely presence of two teacups — quiet, unassuming, still — a remembrance of the shared interactions of Frog and Katagiri.
Murakami allows simplicity to define his scenes. His teacups work for the scene and create its minimalism from the inside out.
For any stage of my own considered progression through “Super-Frog Saves Tokyo,” this snippet above that's such an important step in the development of Frog and Katagiri’s relationship has felt special and defining. It has become a slice of everything Murkami offers in his composition as a whole. I guess I can read into it anything I like, but don’t mistake my ability to pick any part for a lack of thought in choosing this part.
Maybe you will also see something in it.
Enjoy the playful way that Frog fills the room with his body and speaks like some all-knowing god. Wonder what he’ll do later to fulfill his promises (and do read the full story to find out). Sit for a moment with the teacups and all they represent.