i'd been wanting to read Murakami for a long while, and i always felt oddly intimidated and lost -i didn't know where the hell to start. but this year i got back into reading and i got a little taste of japanese literature, and boy i am hooked. so i marched over to my local bookstore and asked my trusted shopkeeper to show me everything they have by this man, and i was presented with a meager pile of three books: a thicc boi about a murder, a non fiction work about music, and this beautiful, illustrated guy. maybe i wouldnt have chosen such a short story for a first taste (i would have honestly gravitated towards norwegian wood or kafka on the shore, had they been available), but i fugured its such a pretty edition i wouldnt mind having it in my bookshelf even if i didnt love the story. and actually? it served the purpose i wanted it to.

my goal was to dip my toe into the murakamiverse, if you will. i wanted to see the style, the prose, how accessible it was, you know the drill. and i liked it! i was a little put off by the time i finished, due to how open it was. i felt like i wasnt GETTING it. but the more i thought about it, the more i appreciated it. (maybe this was influenced by the fact that i really really wanted to like it, but regardless). i like that it poses a question, and in fact, i think i liked the little semi-autobiographical text at the end even more than i liked the story, which is a good thing: i like murakami's writing, after all, which means ill probably be reading him again, i hope sooner than later.

also: the illustrations are plentiful and STUNNING. my compliments to the chef -kat menschik deserves so much credit. absolutely beautiful pieces.