Tony Takitani’s record collection

Tony Takitani’s record collection is the large inheritance left by his father, Shozaburo Takitani, and the final accumulation of possessions Tony removes from his house. Kept in cartons in an emptied room, the records first preserve a connection to his father; later, their persistent physical presence becomes burdensome, and selling them leaves Tony, in his own recognition, truly alone.

Inheritance and Storage

Shozaburo dies of liver cancer two years after Tony’s wife. He leaves little property beyond some cash, stock certificates, his instrument, and a gigantic collection of old jazz records. Tony does not immediately sell or sort the records: he leaves them in the moving company’s cartons and stacks them on the floor of the room that had been emptied after his wife’s clothes were taken away.

The cartons alter the room’s use. Their moldy smell means Tony has to open the windows at intervals to air it, but otherwise he avoids going inside. The space that had held his wife’s dresses now contains his father’s records, so the two losses meet in the same room without becoming the same memory. Tony’s wife’s belongings had once filled the room; the records occupy it as a new, unwelcome mass.

A Burden That Persists

For a year the cartons remain there. As time passes, their presence troubles Tony more and more: even thinking of the mountain of records in the house makes it difficult for him to breathe, and he sometimes wakes during the night unable to return to sleep. His memories have become indistinct, but they have not disappeared; their continuing weight gives the records a significance beyond their contents or monetary value.

The collection is also materially valuable. When Tony finally calls a used-record dealer, the dealer’s offer is remarkably high because many discs are valuable and long out of print. The sale could therefore be understood as a profitable disposal. Tony, however, attaches no importance to the payment, which would have been enough to buy a small car. What matters to him is getting the records out of the house.

Sale and Consequence

Once the collection is gone, the room no longer holds either his wife’s clothing or his father’s records. Its emptiness does not restore Tony’s earlier life or resolve his grief. Instead, the narrative makes the removal a decisive subtraction: after the mountain of records disappears, Tony recognizes that he is really alone.

The collection’s movement from inheritance to stored burden to sale gives the object a changing role in Tony’s household. It begins as one of the few things his father leaves behind, remains physically present even as Tony’s memories blur, and ends by being exchanged for money that means nothing to him. Its departure clears the room, but also removes the last tangible accumulation connecting Tony to his father, sharpening the solitude that remains.