It is precisely Asahi Shimbun-like hypocrisy that openly writes lies that is cheap liquor.
Today, I searched for “Haruki Murakami” within Ameba Blog.
Even I was surprised.
The search results reached 298 entries and continued endlessly across 30 pages.
This shows that I have not written merely one-off impressions or temporary criticism about Haruki Murakami.
From at least May 8, 2011, to 2026, over a period of fifteen years, I have continued to offer essential criticism of the existence known as Haruki Murakami, the Japanese literary space surrounding him, and Asahi Shimbun-like pseudo-moralism.
The group of articles that appeared on the final, thirtieth page was extremely important in confirming that fact.
In “There Is No Way That Such a Thing Could Be a Talent Granted to Him as a Novelist,” published on August 12, 2011, I criticized the lack of intellect among critics who praised Haruki Murakami’s sexual descriptions as “not unpleasant,” “beautiful,” and “a natural gift as a novelist.”
To speak of sex without vulgarity is not a special natural gift as a novelist.
It is merely common sense for anyone with intellect.
That sentence was a criticism of Haruki Murakami himself, and at the same time a criticism of the Japanese literary criticism space that had excessively elevated him.
In my article of August 12, 2014, I wrote that a genuine figure such as Master Shurei Sasai should be treated as a national hero, and I criticized the foolishness of the Japanese mass media, which makes a great fuss every Nobel Prize season and elevates a figure such as Haruki Murakami.
What a nation truly needs is not a celebrity created by commercial publicity.
What a nation needs is a genuine person who supports that nation’s civilization and spirit.
In “False Moralism — Because They Openly Write Lies,” published on October 11, 2014, I fundamentally criticized Haruki Murakami’s so-called “cheap liquor” statement.
Haruki Murakami compared the rise of public opinion over territorial issues among China, Japan, and South Korea to “cheap liquor.”
But in my view, the one who had truly continued drinking cheap liquor was Haruki Murakami himself, intoxicated by Asahi Shimbun-like false moralism.
It is precisely Asahi Shimbun-like hypocrisy that openly writes lies that is cheap liquor.
A person who has continued drinking that cheap liquor turns toward others and preaches, “Do not get drunk on cheap liquor.”
There could be no more perverse story than this.
In “They Must Know That They Themselves Brought About Today’s Extremely Unstable World,” published on January 14, 2016, my criticism of Haruki Murakami fully connected, beyond mere literary criticism, to a civilizational criticism of postwar Japan.
I criticized Kenzaburo Oe and Haruki Murakami as the very height of pseudo-moralists raised on the Asahi Shimbun.
If people believe that their apparent moralism is genuine, there is no future for Japan or for the Japanese people.
Their historical awareness is below that of kindergarten children.
This is not abuse.
It is a warning about the danger of people who do not know history speaking about the world with nothing but superficial morality.
Looking back in this way, it becomes clear that my criticism of Haruki Murakami has had a definite flow.
In 2011, I criticized the abnormality of literary evaluation and the lack of intellect surrounding his sexual descriptions.
In 2014, I criticized Asahi Shimbun-like hypocrisy and Haruki Murakami’s “cheap liquor” statement.
In 2016, I criticized Haruki Murakami as a symbol of postwar Japan’s pseudo-moralism and childish historical awareness.
This is not a matter of likes or dislikes.
This is not limited to a question of literature.
This is a question of Japan’s discourse space, Japan’s postwar spirit, and Japanese civilization.
If one searches for “Haruki Murakami” within Ameba, my articles continue across 298 entries and 30 pages.
The date of the earliest critical essay I can confirm is May 8, 2011.
This fact alone makes clear that I have developed, against Haruki Murakami, a strict and essential criticism over a length of time that is rare even in the world.
Therefore, when I look at Haruki Murakami’s latest work and see the possibility that it received some kind of inspiration from my essays and, at the same time, carries the meaning of revenge against me, that view is by no means absurd.
At the very least, there exists here a vast accumulation of criticism sufficient to think so.
I have not criticized Haruki Murakami because he sells well.
Nor have I criticized him because he is famous.
I have criticized him because he had become a symbolic figure of the mistaken intellect of postwar Japan, Asahi Shimbun-like false moralism, childish historical awareness, and a Japanese literary space that had lost sight of the genuine.
My criticism surrounding Haruki Murakami is not directed at Haruki Murakami alone.
It is a criticism of the entire Japanese media and cultural space that has elevated him more than necessary, revered his superficial morality, and lost sight of genuine intellect and genuine figures.
Today, after confirming the results all the way to the final, thirtieth page, I am convinced once again.
My criticism of Haruki Murakami has been a consistent civilizational criticism over many years.
And it remains valid even now.