Kafka on the Shore

I’ve never read any of Murakami’s work–which this short piece will demonstrate. It comes just from the title, an excerpt from which was a writing prompt. I am breaking my rule, just a bit, throwing in a little politics here. I hope you won’t mind too much. It is still a fictional fancy.

We’ve never met, but I believe I could imagine Kafka on a shore. A most peculiar shore to be sure, but a shore nonetheless. Then again, why the shore? Perhaps more likely to be found in a High Tower, imagined by Philip K. Dick.

“Hey Phil,” the ghost of Franz Kafka might say, “do you suppose Trump could run the country any better than the Nazis?”
“Ah, I don’t know,” the ghost of Dick replies. “This is all just my dystopian alternate history. Trump’s dark vision is based on reality–at least Reality TV. Of course that has as much to do with reality as Billy Pilgrim’s visits to Tralfamadore.”
“Hey, where did Kurt come from? Let’s leave Vonnegut out of this unless you want to talk about Montana Wildhack?”
“Well, Schlachthof-fünf, would be more to the point, don’t you think?
“Yes, I suppose. So what about Kilgore Trout then?
“All right, I’ve always had a hankering for Venus on the Half Shell.”

Ghosts can be so self-absorbed.

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