… although I have not heard him (and doubt I ever shall) the wind-up bird has rather gripped my thoughts—in a way, even my consciousness, and to the extent that I’m just going to have the let the damn thing drip away. Recede from the thoughts, I do hope, because everything I write is presently sounding a whole lot like Murakami. And I don’t need to tell you, that ain’t good.

What a book. Aren’t I supposed to have some little Now Reading widget? Crap, this novel wouldn’t fit in any widget, and the last thing I want to become is an Amazon Anything. Nope, this blog is remaining commercial-free to the end of time or I can’t type anymore, whichever comes first. Last man (woman) standing.

But here. A few bits of this wretchedly good, haunting stuff.

“A person’s destiny is something you look back at after it’s past, not something you see in advance.”

“If something came out of the deal, it couldn’t make things any worse for us than they already were, I thought. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Hell has no true bottom.”

“Especially when my mind is empty … these things come back to me out of nowhere. Oh yeah, I’ll think, he was like that. guess time doesn’t flow in order does it … ? It just sort of goes where it feels like going.”

From the reviews:

… with every rotation, Murakami pulls the reader deeper into a world where everything is connected but nothing ever fits flush. By the end of the novel this world emerges as a remarkable one indeed, and one in which many questions don’t require answers; the process of questioning is reward enough.

Indeed it is. They left out the part where it is also a knock in the head.

Murakami is simply the lead explorer, as shocked and confounded as we are by the unexpected glimpses thrown up by the wandering arc of his flashlight.

I don’t know where I got half these quotes, busy scrabbling around the web for some idea, once I was finished—there went my weekend—for the thoughts of others on this strange experience.

My son, who gave me the book for Mother’s Day, refused to tell me how he chose it. “I speed-read all the books at Black Oak” he said. Ever the comedian. “Is it weird?”

I told him, “Not weird, but strange.” And that’s what keeps you reading.

From the Times Online

The most impressive thing about Murakami’s writing is his sustained delineation of a surreal, super-real world. Each of his books has been a variation on a set of common themes: for all their strangeness, their invention and their bizarre twists and turns, they have a compelling familiarity.

…the playfulness of Murakami’s writing carries the reader along to sometimes unsettling conclusions about cherished realities.

Yeah, well my cherished realities are mighty upset right now. That’s the best thing I can say about this book, this, this … novel. Can’t wait to get it out of my head. What right … to change me … in some way I don’t begin to understand … except that Murikami said things my consciousness never expected to have fed it, and I hear it chewing away inside, trying to digest this magnificent lump.

Untidy ends. The book has untidy ends, you don’t know where you are (you really do) and as far as first person narrator, forget that. Forget desconstructing this one, it is deconstructed in the writing, and perhaps that’s more upsetting to one’s consciousness than anything.

I’m not sure.

I’ll let you know if ever I am.

Tags: books, murikami

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