I feel a sudden urge to learn Japanese so that I can read Murakami’s books as he has written them. I can’t really explain, but there’s something so special about his writing… I have read Portuguese and English translations and I feel the need to read the “originals”. They sound so magical in both languages. I just can’t help but wonder… how would it be to read his exact words? One after the other. To think them through in Japanese… It must be quite an experience.
Yes, I do believe that each language works like a different pair of glasses with different properties to them. Each language makes your reality different because it paints it to you in different ways/colours. So… Japanese, yes.
“As we go through life we gradually discover who we are, but the more we discover, the more we lose ourselves.“
I just… don’t really know what to say about the book itself. There’s a certain oddity to it. It’s not the kind of oddity that makes you scrunch your nose, though. It’s… rather enchanting. It sort of lulls you into this half-awake-half-dreaming-half-asleep state. Yes, three halves to the same piece, so perhaps that’s where the oddity comes from. And when it leaves you it’s always so… sudden. Ah, the wonders of a Murakami novel.