End of the World and Hard-Boiled Wonderland: A New Translation

by Haruki Murakami

Many readers have asked me if I wrote the two stories separately and then put them together later on, but that’s not how I did it. I wrote them in the same order as they appear in the novel, alternating one with the other. Doing this sparked and fired up my imagination in real time. Perhaps it’s like two construction crews on opposite sides of a mountain, digging to create a single tunnel. Drilling operations like this naturally require specialized surveying equipment, with the two holes meeting up at

I know several people who have second- or third-rate sofas in their houses even though they drive around in luxury cars. I don’t trust people like that.

Most problems arise from people being vague with each other. I happen to believe that most people use vague expressions because they’re unconsciously looking for difficulties.

Death itself was not that frightening to me. As Shakespeare says, if you die this year you won’t die the next.

Jewish folklore not Shakespeare

But after I was dead at least I wanted to be left to rest in peace. I felt I could understand why the pharaohs wanted to be sealed into pyramids.

“In the end, you stop understanding everything. It’s like spinning a top that you’ve painted all different colors. The faster the top spins, the less you can distinguish one color from another, until they all blend together. You end up with chaos.”

The water’s shadow danced over the smooth, white concrete as if it were the water itself. Staring at that shadow, I felt it change into my own shadow. My shadow was dancing over the arched dam wall. I sat in the movie theater’s seat, staring at my shadow. I knew immediately that it was my own shadow, but I didn’t know what action I should take toward it as a member of the audience.

I had made up my mind to survive no matter what.

You have to believe in your own power. Otherwise, an external power will take over and drag you off to who knows where.”

“A superior musician can transpose his consciousness into sound, a painter into color and shape, and a novelist into story. The logic is the same.