You don't need to send messages to communicate the truth.
I just finished Murakami's 'The Wind-up Bird Chronicle', possibly the best (at least most humanly personable) book that I have read yet.
It is fitting, I think, that I've been reading it on and off since about last September. A lot of things have changed, since then, about myself and just things in general. These are fitting things, considering the book.
I know I've stated as such every time I finish one of the books, but I love how Murakami's books are effective only in this dreamlike manner. They long to communicate these human truths with the same intensity of the characters' own longings, but at the same time acknowledge that only through these dreamlike emissions can you explain or confront such things. It's sort of sad, but you always feel sort of triumphantly content when you finish them.
The ends of his books are like finishing an album someone you love gave to you as a personal gift. You can't replay the album because just playing it once does it, no matter how good it was and no matter how much you like hearing it. You can't play it immediately, and it's so hard to follow with something, but just knowing that it has that effectiveness can't leave you anything but content.
Yes, I am rambling a bit now.
I have to go work on a Linguistics term paper but, dammit, right now I greatly need to just take a week to listen to Death in June or Bloodsport or Godspeed or something, and read more Murakami. Or maybe some Bukowski or Junger.
It is fitting, I think, that I've been reading it on and off since about last September. A lot of things have changed, since then, about myself and just things in general. These are fitting things, considering the book.
I know I've stated as such every time I finish one of the books, but I love how Murakami's books are effective only in this dreamlike manner. They long to communicate these human truths with the same intensity of the characters' own longings, but at the same time acknowledge that only through these dreamlike emissions can you explain or confront such things. It's sort of sad, but you always feel sort of triumphantly content when you finish them.
The ends of his books are like finishing an album someone you love gave to you as a personal gift. You can't replay the album because just playing it once does it, no matter how good it was and no matter how much you like hearing it. You can't play it immediately, and it's so hard to follow with something, but just knowing that it has that effectiveness can't leave you anything but content.
Yes, I am rambling a bit now.
I have to go work on a Linguistics term paper but, dammit, right now I greatly need to just take a week to listen to Death in June or Bloodsport or Godspeed or something, and read more Murakami. Or maybe some Bukowski or Junger.