A F T E R D A R K
ALSO BY
Haruki Murakami
Fiction
After the Quake
Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
Dance Dance Dance
The Elephant Vanishes
Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World
Kafka on the Shore
Norwegian Wood
South of the Border, West of the Sun
Sputnik Sweetheart
A Wild Sheep Chase
The Wind Up Bird Chronicle
Nonfiction
Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche
Haruki Murakami
After Dark
TRANSLATED
FROM THE JAPANESE
BY
Jay Rubin
Harvill
Secker
LONDON
Published by Harvill Secker, 2007
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © Haruki Murakami, 2004
English translation copyright © Jay Rubin, 2007
Haruki Murakami has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's
prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without a similar condition including this condition being
imposed on-the-subsequent purchaser
First published with the title Afutãdãku
by Kodansha, Tokyo, 2004
First published in Great Britain in 2007 by
HARVILL SECKER, Random House
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After Dark

1
yes mark the shape of the city.
Through the eyes of a high-flying night bird, we
take in the scene from midair. In our broad sweep, the
city looks like a single gigantic creature-or more like a
single collective entity created by many intertwining
organisms. Countless arteries stretch to the ends of its
elusive body, circulating a continuous supply of fresh
blood cells, sending out new data and collecting the old,
sending out new consumables and collecting the old,
sending out new contradictions and collecting the old. To
the rhythm of its pulsing, all parts of the body flicker and
flare up and squirm. Midnight is approaching, and while
the peak of activity has passed, the basal metabolism that
maintains life continues undiminished, producing the
basso continuo of the city's moan, a monotonous sound
that neither rises nor falls but is pregnant with
foreboding.
Our line of sight chooses an area of concentrated
brightness and, focusing there, silently descends to it-a
sea of neon colours. They call this place an "amusement
3
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A F T E R D A R K
district." The giant digital screens fastened to the sides of
buildings fall silent as midnight approaches, but loudspeakers
on storefronts keep pumping out exaggerated
hip-hop bass lines. A large game centre crammed with
young people; wild electronic sounds; a group of college
students spilling out from a bar; teenage girls with
brilliant bleached hair, healthy legs thrusting out from
microminiskirts; dark-suited men racing across diagonal
crossings for the last trains to the suburbs. Even at this
hour, the karaoke club pitchmen keep shouting for
customers. A flashy black station wagon drifts down the
street as if taking stock of the district through its blacktinted
windows. The car looks like a deep-sea creature
with specialised skin and organs. Two young policemen
patrol the street with tense expressions, but no one
seems to notice them. The district plays by its own rules
at a time like this. The season is late autumn. No wind is
blowing, but the air carries a chill. The date is just about
to change.
e are inside a Denny's.
Unremarkable but adequate lighting; expressionless
decor and tableware; floor plan designed to the last
detail by management engineers; innocuous background
music at low volume; staff meticulously trained to deal
with customers by the book: "Welcome to Denny's."
Everything about the restaurant is anonymous and
interchangeable. And almost every seat is filled.