In the UK, there’s this limited-edition run of 1Q84 that has beautiful red-edged pages. I felt very guilty getting them, because I could have found the books cheaper if I bought the regular kind. But this meant supporting Foyles (they’re the only ones who have it), a long-running bookshop (est. 1903) that has been struggling recently. So I bit the bullet.
And I’m glad! How beautiful is this book?
Book #76
“For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a ‘Reserved’ sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I’d never see her again,” — Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
Sometimes when I look back at what I’ve read, it’s not only what I’ve read that makes me glad: it’s the order I read the books in. This book, for instance, was preceded by Murakami’s After Dark and Jean-Dominique Bauby’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. The two Murakamis go beautifully together, they’re both short explorations of the human psyche and relationships. Bauby’s book deals with loss and beauty. South of the Border felt a little like a mesh of the two books I’d read before it.
I can’t seem to properly gather my thoughts for this review, which is unfortunate. The book was incredibly wonderful. It begins in Hajime’s childhood, where he meets another only child, Shimamoto. Murakami spends the first couple of chapters talking about how siblings change our lives and our personalities, and how it feels to live in a society where you were the exception if you were an only child. However, when Hajime has to change schools, they don’t keep in touch, although she continued to hold “a special place in [his] heart”.
I could expand on the plot a little, but the book really should be read and enjoyed, since it’s not that long anyway. Hajime has constant “what if’s” going through his mind, and it’s almost as if we’re shown a parallel life he could’ve lived. I put the book down and was still hungry for more Murakami.
Book #74
“The new day is almost here, but the old one is still dragging its heavy skirts. Just as ocean water and river water struggle against each other at a river mouth, the old time and the new time clash and blend.” — Haruki Murakami, After Dark
I read somewhere that someone thought this was Murakami distilled. I can see what they mean. Compared to the other Murakamis I’ve read, this was pretty short. I read it over a couple of days, mostly on the tube or the bus. I don’t know why, but that felt strangely appropriate, too.
If I were a professional reviewer or writing an essay, I would probably say things like “Mari is an unlikely heroine” or “she is the antithesis of a protagonist”. Mari herself is aware of this. It is her sister, Eri, who would be the natural choice for a spotlight. All of that is true — but I don’t write my reviews like that, and to be honest, the frequency those go-to phrases are used in reviews in the paper is one of the biggest reasons that I prefer blog reviews (by good reviewers, of course, but one with colourful personal commentary).
The book follows Mari for a night, as she sits barely sipping her coffee in a Denny’s, just waiting for time to pass. Takahashi, a student who loves to play jazz, walks in for a quick meal and recognizes her because he knows her sister, Eri, who is a model. The premise isn’t complicated, although in true Murakami style, the book does go into a bit of a reverie when describing what’s happening with Eri, who is in an “unnatural sleep”.
The events of the book don’t need to be divulged. It’s such a short book that once you read it, you’ll find out soon enough. It is a beautiful book, with plenty of gorgeous pull-out quotes and ideas. I’m just never disappointed by him, and every book of his I read I remember why he’s the author I’ve read the most over the past year.
Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
I love how every protagonist of Murakami’s is an avid reader.
