A nameless cast in a half-fantasy Tokyo and internal cerebral realm dominate the pages of this Murakami novel. It's thoroughly rich in mundane nuances and details which give the broad plot its sheik and shiny coat. And most importantly, its Japanese-esque isn't lost through the translation, coming out foreign enough to be slightly mystical along side its fantasy and nebulousness. It feels like a combination of the movie Lost in Translation, the novel Permutation City by Greg Egan and the novel Queen of Angles by Greg Bear.

I didn't realize that the characters themselves didn't have names when I was through about 80% of the novel, which shows you two things: one, I'm terrible with names and two, I was too busy being absorbed by the on goings to be bothered with anything like a generic label for individuals. Murakami focuses the reader's attention to the scene, the plot, the casual and pointedly nebulous unfolding.

Spread across this novel are Japanese tinted cultural items, such as foods and fauna, which give it an additional novelty to match its' already speckled chapters with western culture oddities; from a detailed Italian dinner to records of once-great jazz and pop artists to the proud collection of a fine whisky collection (not to be confused with `whiskey,' like the author mistakenly called the whisky which is reserved for true Irish whiskey). Piled on this heap of anecdotal oddities comes to rich recollection of the main character's personal history in the form of reminiscing, including details about his divorce, his sex life, his jobs, his sofa appreciation and his unique childhood experiences; from jetsam to a Skyline to chubby girls to a aviator jacket. Wildly, mundanely detailed!

Even with a wider view, many of the characters are actually quite mundane themselves: the librarian, the scientist, the chubby girl, the Gatekeeper, the General, etc. It's only the Calcutec (the main character) in which we get to view personal glimpses of. They seem to be mundane to an extraordinary degree... something which Murakami seems to have honed down to an art. I think it's not the characters themselves which make them seem so extraordinarily rich, but rather the authors and translators vision to make the dull details feel so delightful.

While you pan the hemispheres of your brain as you read the parallel tracks of this Murakami masterpiece, keep in mind that these two stories aren't open for your viewing pleasure. It's written so that you must confront what's been written with what the author wants you to believe to what is the reality in the Calcultec's world. Pan between a simple/traditional/non-abbreviated fantasy world where one man holds his one job with the reality where a materialistic/vivid/linguistically-truncated world. Compare, contrast, concentrate and be ready for a cornucopia of insight and depth.