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A review by steveab
South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami
4.0
A moody, intricate, engrossing, very human exploration of the thin line between what is and what might have been. Yes, another Murakami book. In this case, less surreal, and more the inner compulsions and tortures of lost love.
This is a shorter book, which is good in this case. While the explorations are real, you won't like the main character. Hajime makes you want to throw up your hands and shout at the guy. (Totally unrelated, but what just jumped into my head is Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar getting up and walking of The View set from Bill O'Reilly this week.)
Yet rereading the final sequences of the book, I found a poignancy and mutuality about life's paths and challenges that brought the book back together for me, and leaves me with warmer feelings toward it. That's all I'm gonna say until you read it.
And of course, the lovely language makes the reading like enjoying a leisurely home cooked meal of endless delights. Even in translation, the writing has the right blend of nuanced self-reflection and accessible colloquial conversation. Maybe this is particularly so for "my generation," growing up as Murakami did in the period of cultural and political ferment of the late 60s to early 80s--the wonderful mix of Murakami music, food, politics, clouds, birds, drinks...
This is a shorter book, which is good in this case. While the explorations are real, you won't like the main character. Hajime makes you want to throw up your hands and shout at the guy. (Totally unrelated, but what just jumped into my head is Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar getting up and walking of The View set from Bill O'Reilly this week.)
Yet rereading the final sequences of the book, I found a poignancy and mutuality about life's paths and challenges that brought the book back together for me, and leaves me with warmer feelings toward it. That's all I'm gonna say until you read it.
And of course, the lovely language makes the reading like enjoying a leisurely home cooked meal of endless delights. Even in translation, the writing has the right blend of nuanced self-reflection and accessible colloquial conversation. Maybe this is particularly so for "my generation," growing up as Murakami did in the period of cultural and political ferment of the late 60s to early 80s--the wonderful mix of Murakami music, food, politics, clouds, birds, drinks...