3.75⭐️
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These stories put together, create what I would describe as a meditation on time. Chock full of Murakami’s trademark wacky, individualistic characters and made smooth by spurts of eloquent and wistful prose.
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HEAR THE WIND SING-
Unsurprisingly, Murakami never changes, even his first novella is so undoubtedly recognisable as his particular writing style. This was a beautiful, yet overwhelmingly simple, story. Panoramic and fragmentary, moving through characters, stories and perspectives; masterfully experimental.
I wouldn’t say this was as great as some of his later work like ‘Kafka on the shore’ and ‘The wind-up-bird chronicle.” Of all his work (that i have read), I would say it most resembles ‘after dark’. It is carefree and moves seamlessly through memories, past and present whilst taking place in a fleeting period of time.
God, I just love Murakami. I genuinely believe there’s nothing in his entire bibliography that could dissapoint me. There’s just such a magical, calming feeling I get whilst reading his writing.
Here were some of my favourite quotes from this section-
“if you’re the sort of guy who raids the refrigerators of silent kitchens at three o’clock in the morning, you can only write accordingly. That’s who I am.”
“all things pass. none of us can manage to hold on to anything. In that way we live our lives.”
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PINBALL, 1973
The character of the rat stood out to me in this half, so unique and devastating and human. His longing for the past and search for fulfilment really resonated with me.
I definitely preferred the first half- this novel was a lot darker and explored loneliness and dislocation which I love, but I think the beautiful thing about Murakami writing is his ability to tie the melancholic and the ethereal into one, and I felt that was less present in Pinball.
These books I do think should be read together, because they tie in so well, pinball feels like a slightly less developed second half/continuation of wind. Nevertheless, I loved this and I love Murakami.
Some memorable prose for me-
“But everything had passed with the flow of time. At an almost unbelievable pace. What had once been a violent, panting flood of emotion had suddenly withdrawn, leaving behind a heap of what felt like meaningless old dreams.”
“Face the music, he told himself. You’re the one who burned the bridges. You’re the one who plastered the walls and sealed yourself inside right?”
“Like flies suspended in resin, the machines were frozen in time. Seventy-eight deaths, seventy-eight silences.”
“When you stripped something down layer by layer, what remained in the end?…. Pride?…..It seemed that no one could live without pride. If that was alone had left, though, it was too dark. Way too dark.”