Haruki Murakami and Rainy Sunday Morning
(This was originally written on August 24, 2008. )
There are three life situations which prompt me to pick up a Haruki Murakami novel and read. One is when I boil spaghetti, one is when I am on travel in a hotel room alone, and the third is when it is raining outside on a Sunday morning.
It is raining outside thanks to what’s left of ex-hurricane Fay. So I picked up Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World.
I read it for the first time when I was a freshman in college. Its cyberpunk-ish storyline was quite fresh and shocking at the time (although Murakami saves something far better than a mere shock for the ending chapters). Now, it reads like a familiar, recurring theme.
Murakami and his stories have evolved over the years. The evolution became especially noticeable after the big Kobe Earthquake. His post-Kobe stories are much more mature, engaged, and tangible. However, I still adore his pre-Quake novels for their youthful, ambivalent attitudes about everything. No, I don’t want to grow up, either.