sputnik sweetheart

I'm definitely addicted to haruki murakami. yes, that forty-something, capricorn sign-bearer, japanese novelist who left japan because his novels hits super best seller in 1980s. His works are so surrealistic, out of this world, mind-boggling; yet intense, bit romantic and leaving some aftertaste of conundrum state in the last pages.

I've been glued to his works ever since "wind up bird chronicle" to "norwegian wood" and "sputnik sweetheart" and now "a wild sheep chase". it's always a 'one sitting reading time'. the worn-out sofa in the living room, in bed extinguishing my insomnia in vain, at the al fresco starbucks joint somewhere in the western part of the city.

my addiction to murakami was similar to the works of tom clancy and frederick forsyth ten years back, during my early adulthood back in my freshman years. those were the hey days of post-cold war era, when their works brought me to a dream-like state of occidental capital cities with all those exotic places and nerve-burning actions. even despite the movies, i still deem their books as far more better entertainment. (yes, clancy's "clear and present danger" and "the sum of all fears" are big loosers!)

murakami takes you to the edge of insanity and push your logic of regular, daily patterns and habits to the verge of everything that you thought you might know.

"the wind up bird chronicle" was my first handshake with the guy. i picked up the book only because it was on sale in an imported book store with a natural-post mo style architecture in an expat quarter down in the southern part of the city.

the wind up bird chronicle -- left my brain buzzing and my ears ringing.
norwegian wood -- i had to stop three times for meals and for breaks because the yarn was simple but damn ludacrist.
sputnik sweetheart -- i changed places many times in reading it.

-to be continued-