One cloudy night in April, in a habitual relay of stalking the profiles of strangers on GR, I found The 100% Perfect Girl.
To be truthful, she wasn't especially beautiful in her profile picture. Nor did any particular part of her profile jump out at me. Her bookshelves were all over the place, and she didn't seem to be that active on GR any more. She hadn't written many reviews either. However, the moment I clicked on 'Compare Books', I knew. She is The 100% Perfect Girl for me. When I saw that our tastes are 100% similar for the 1000+ books we had both rated, my heart shook as if the earth rumbled beneath my feet, and my mouth went as dry as a desert.
It might be that you have certain types of girls you like. For example, girls who are into the classics, girls who write witty reviews, or girls who love Dostoyevsky, or for some obscure reason, girls whose average book rating is below 3.00. Of course, I too have certain preferences. I've even once printed out all of the 'Favourite Quotes' of a girl whose profile I fell head over heels for, and stuck them on my wall.
However, it's impossible for anyone to typify The 100% Perfect Girl. Unfortunately, there's no way that I can recall where she was from. Hell, I don't even remember her name. All I can remember is that her profile wasn't especially enticing. Things are strange sometimes.
'You know, I found The 100% Perfect Girl last night', I might say to someone.
'Oh?' he answers. 'Was she beautiful?'
'No, not especially.'
'But she was your type.'
'The thing is, I don't remember. I can't even remember what colour her hair was, or whether she was smiling in the picture.'
'Strange.'
'Yeah, it is.'
'So...' he drawls, sounding bored. 'What did you do, did you send her a message, or send her a friend request?'
'Nope, didn't do anything.' I said. 'All I did was stumble upon her profile.'
She was online in one part of the world, while I was online in an airport of another, using up my quota of free Internet on a computer in the terminal before boarding my flight. I like being one of the last passengers to board so I don't get stuck in a slow-moving queue.
I think, how nice would it be to exchange messages with her, even one? I'd want to find out what kind of person she is, and I'd certainly hope that she asks about my life. And more than anything else, I'd want to unravel, say, the hands of fate leading to us finding each other on this humble website on a cloudy night in April, 2015. There must be a warm secret lying beneath the covers there, like an old typewriter from bygone days.
We would exchange pleasantries like those, and then get to the more personal questions. The flow of messages accelerates each day, and eventually we add each other on Skype. If things go smoothly, we might even talk about meeting in person. Possibilities knock on the doors of my heart.
I've already clicked on 'send message'.
How should I begin the conversation?
'Hey, how's it going! I hope you don't mind me sending this message :)'
No, that would be too casual. It could be the start of a lifelong love.
'Excuse me for intruding, but I happened to notice you are fond of the very same authors as me.'
No, this sounds too awkward - better sound familiar than frigid.
Maybe I should just come out with the truth. 'Hello there. You are The 100% Perfect Girl for me.'
No, that won't do, how creepy do I want to sound? Even if she sees the 100% match, she might not be that keen on talking to me. Even if I'm The 100% Perfect Girl for you, you aren't The 100% Perfect Guy for me, I'm sorry, but - she might reply. That's entirely plausible. And if I were to have such a reply thrust upon me, I would be hopelessly confused. I might never get over the shock. I'm 23, and before I know it, I'll be fondly reflecting over my student years - such a retort is part and parcel of growing up and entering the real world.
Nonetheless, I type up a dignified, yet stylish message, and I'm looking over it for typos and mistakes. The repercussions of this implicit love letter flash before my mind's eye. We'll get married, live in a cosy house, and have a big room just for books. The cursor hovers over the 'send' button. This is it.
As my finger starts to descend on the mouse's left click, I hear my name boom out of the terminal speakers. 'Mr. Junta _____, your flight is waiting for you. Please board the flight at Gate 17 immediately. This is the last announcement.' I panic, and look over at the gate where the airline staff are looking around for me, frowning.
'Shit!', I say as I physically and mentally curse myself for losing track of time over the message. I have to just send this message off and run.
I look back at the screen. The one hour time limit is up, and I've been redirected to the homepage. I hear voices from the direction of the gate, 'There he is!', and quickly approaching footsteps.
Of course, now I know what I should have typed in my message to her, how I should have begun my acquaintance with her. But it's such a long message, maybe I wouldn't have made it inside the one hour anyway. Just like in this story, the things I come up with are always impractical.
Anyway, the message begins with 'Once upon a time', and ends with 'Don't you think that's a sad story?'
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To read the second half (and actual first half, where he meets her on the street) of the original story, On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning, get your hands on The Elephant Vanishes or another one of Murakami's short story collections which includes this piece.
I've always liked reading, but for some reason or other, I didn't read too many novels through my teenage years. A friend got me back into it in my second year of university, and Murakami was the first author I really got hooked on then, going through all of his novels in the following 12 months.
My first favourite was Kafka on the Shore. Then, A Wild Sheep Chase and Dance Dance Dance. I would read his novels and short stories in Japanese and English (sometimes both), and went onto his other works, including non-fiction.
A few years later, my love for reading is at its peak, and I look back fondly at the times when I was captivated by his novels. After some re-reads over the years, Kafka has been demoted to 4-star, while AWSC/DDD was also demoted for a while.
The Elephant Vanishes, although it is entirely different to his novels as a short story collection, I've felt quite safe in maintaining the 5 stars. I haven't read the English translation, and I'm sure the Japanese original cannot be beaten, but I recommend this short story collection to people new to Murakami. Not all of the included short stories (there are 17) are amazing, but many of them are great, pleasant reads. My favourites are
The kangaroo communique
The aforementioned story
A window
Barn burning, and
The elephant vanishes.
I occasionally pick this book off my shelf, and re-read one of the stories, not to look for anything new or necessarily follow the story, but more to enjoy the language and writing. As much as his novels can be thrilling, this anthology is where I come back to time and time again to enjoy Murakami's portrayal of everyday life, magical realism, dialogue modern Japanese in spirit, and the adventures, large and small, of the mediocre, apathetic and indifferent people any one of us could be.
May 1st, 2015