Män utan kvinnor

by Haruki Murakami, Eiko Duke (Translator), Yukiko Duke (Translator)

Genom hela sin karriär har Haruki Murakami skrivit noveller, och det var också som novellist han slog igenom i USA när The New Yorker började publicera honom regelbundet. Hans nya samling koncentrerar sig på kvinnor och män i olika konstellationer.

En skådespelare anställer en chaufför och anförtror henne sina innersta hemligheter. En man har blivit lämnad av sin hustru och öppnar en bar som blir hemsökt av något okänt. Maken till en tidigare kärlek ringer efter midnatt och låter meddela tråkiga nyheter. En man vaknar en dag och inser att han gått igenom en metamorfos och förvandlats till Gregor Samsa, huvudpersonen i Franz Kafkas Förvandlingen.

Genres: Fiction, Short Stories, Japan, Japanese Literature, Contemporary, Magical Realism, Literature

263 pages, Paperback

First published April 18, 2014

About the author

Haruki Murakami (村上春樹) is a Japanese writer. His novels, essays, and short stories have been best-sellers in Japan and internationally, with his work translated into 50 languages and having sold millions of copies outside Japan. He has received numerous awards for his work, including the Gunzo Prize for New Writers, the World Fantasy Award, the Tanizaki Prize, Yomiuri Prize for Literature, the Frank O'Connor International Short Story Award, the Noma Literary Prize, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Kiriyama Prize for Fiction, the Goodreads Choice Awards for Best Fiction, the Jerusalem Prize, and the Princess of Asturias Awards.
Growing up in Ashiya, near Kobe before moving to Tokyo to attend Waseda University, he published his first novel Hear the Wind Sing (1979) after working as the owner of a small jazz bar for seven years. His notable works include the novels Norwegian Wood (1987), The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1994–95), Kafka on the Shore (2002) and 1Q84 (2009–10); the last was ranked as the best work of Japan's Heisei era (1989–2019) by the national newspaper Asahi Shimbun's survey of literary experts. His work spans genres including science fiction, fantasy, and crime fiction, and has become known for his use of magical realist elements. His official website cites Raymond Chandler, Kurt Vonnegut and Richard Brautigan as key inspirations to his work, while Murakami himself has named Kazuo Ishiguro, Cormac McCarthy and Dag Solstad as his favourite currently active writers. Murakami has also published five short story collections, including First Person Singular (2020), and non-fiction works including Underground (1997), an oral history of the Tokyo subway sarin attack, and What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (2007), a memoir about his experience as a long distance runner.
His fiction has polarized literary critics and the reading public. He has sometimes been criticised by Japan's literary establishment as un-Japanese, leading to Murakami's recalling that he was a "black sheep in the Japanese literary world". Meanwhile, Murakami has been described by Gary Fisketjon, the editor of Murakami's collection The Elephant Vanishes (1993), as a "truly extraordinary writer", while Steven Poole of The Guardian praised Murakami as "among the world's greatest living novelists" for his oeuvre.

Reviews

[Helle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I saw Murakami yesterday. I don't mean that in a metaphorical way: I literally saw him in my home town of Odense, Denmark. He received the Hans Christian Andersen Literary Award and made a few small appearances while he was here, one of which was at our local library. There were only 180 of us there, and I don't think anyone left the room afterwards thinking that the event had been so-so. I, at least, felt dazed and enriched and happy afterwards. We heard him read aloud from a short story (in Japanese) which his Danish translator afterwards read in Danish; we heard him answer some questions prepared by said translator and a literature expert. And we heard him answer some questions from the audience. He was delightful. He was humble. He was kind. He was funny. And I got to ask him the last question.

(I may come back and actually review this collection. Then again, I may not. I may disappear down a well or go chase a cat or go to sleep and wake up as someone who doesn't read books).

[Sean Barrs · Rating 3 out of 5]

Men Without Women is a collection of stories about despairing men and loneliness; it depicts men who try to cope with the sorrows of life after their loved one has departed from them. Unable to move on, the men spend the rest of their days lamenting what they will never again feel.

So this is a sad collection, one that captures the harsh realities of human experience, at least, the experience some people will ultimately feel in the face of rejection. The feelings the men have here are not needy or creepy towards the women in question. This certainly isn’t a collection about desperate men. What we have instead is successful men, often those who are married or charming with the ladies, who lose their loved one or perhaps find her for the first time. They then have to get on with their loves in the wake of such a thing.

Not an easy task for sure. Some have different coping strategies varying in different levels of extremity. One man simply dies, unable to eat anymore or muster the will to live, he slowly perishes and wastes away to nothing as he realises his love never felt the same way about him. What’s surprising, and perhaps a truism, is how easy it is for such an experience to break a man. Again, these men are not emotionally fragile or unhinged; they are relatively normal people who simply get overwhelmed by emotions that they cannot control or predict. Love is never easy and unreciprocated love is agony.

But don’t some people have the strength to carry on?

However, despite the harsh experience the men have here, I wanted to see a little bit more positivity. Some people, men or women, will find themselves in very similar situations in life, but they do not simply lay down and die. They get on with it; they keep going. Life does not fit into a neat little box. We don’t always get what we want, and simply giving up is not the answer. We have one life, and despite how painful our own experience can be, there is always a reason to carry on. If you’re not living for yourself, then live for other people.

As ever Murakami’s prose is precise with the ability to handle such complex emotions. And he has tapped into something here, something true to life, but not everybody will react in such a way. We must move forward no matter how hard it may seem. At times I found myself wanting to give the men a good hard slap; they surely needed it: they needed a motivation injection or something. As important as it is to find a partner in life, it is not the thing that defines life or success.

This book is certainly worth a read, though it falls short of its potential. Not all men without women react the same way.

Facebook| Twitter| Insta| Academia

[Andrew Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

When you delve into a Murakami book you’re never quite sure what you’ll find – will it be surreal and mind bending, like The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, or darkly realistic like Norwegian Wood? Well, this collection of short stories certainly has more in common with the latter, though not entirely so.

The title gives away the linking theme, but that’s too simplistic. There’s longing and loneliness here but also a desire to understand, to discover. The tones are often deeply melancholic and the tales are told – in typical Murakami style – in a matter of fact, somewhat unemotional way, but are totally beguiling nonetheless. As you would expect, they are beautifully written, containing lines that stopped me in my tracks to ponder the pure truth of the statements.

An actor has lost his wife after 20 years. She died after a short illness, and as he is driven to and from the theatre in which he is performing, he is quizzed by his female driver. It appears that he knew his wife had had affairs and at one stage took the strange step of befriending a fellow actor purely because he suspected he had had trysts with his late wife. Was his motivation just curiosity, as he sought to understand his wife’s motivation to seek out other male company? Or was he looking to exact revenge in some manner? A young man talks to his friend about his own girlfriend. They met when they were quite a bit younger and have been together for some time, but they don’t have a sexual relationship. He attempts to persuade his friend to take his girlfriend out on a date. What is the spur for this, and where does he expect this to take his own relationship with his girlfriend?

In both of these stories, I was struck by the apparent strangeness of the actions taken by the lead protagonist, yet as the narrative developed, these actions seemed to make more sense. Murakami regularly introduces me to people who not only live in a very different culture but who also seem slightly off-kilter. It’s unsettling… but stimulating. Sometimes, I can reconcile myself to who they are and why they do what they do, but not always.

A cosmetic surgeon seems to have everything a single man could want: money, a good career, and an abundance of willing female company. He’s careful not to put himself in a position where he will become too emotionally involved with these women. In fact, his favoured route is to liaise with women who are already in a steady relationship. He enjoys their company, relishes the conversations, and, of course, the sex. But then it happens - he falls in love. This certainly wasn’t in the plan, and it throws his whole life into turmoil. In the title piece, a man receives a ‘phone call advising him that an ex-girlfriend has committed suicide. He’s not sure why he received the call as he’d had no contact with her for a long time. However, he reflects that this is the third ex-girlfriend of his who has committed suicide. And then there’s the account of a young man in confinement, who is visited by a housekeeper who also provides sexual favours and talks to him about reincarnation (she was an eel in a previous life) and a boy she secretly stalked.

These stories spoke to me of introspection and addiction and of a yearning for relationships lost. I don’t think I’ve worked out the true underlying message in any of these tales (if, indeed, there is one) but the story of the surgeon, in particular, has a haunting and compelling unexpectedness to it.

Kino, about a man who opens a small bar after he splits with his wife is the only story I’d read before. A short enigmatic story from the master of the surreal. It’s a freebie (just follow the link accompanying this book on the Goodreads site) and if you’re a fan of Murakami’s work you should take a look; it’ll see you through a morning cappuccino.

Kino owns a small bar in a back street of Tokyo. He doesn’t get many customers, but one man does visit a couple of times each week and always sits in the same place, the most uncomfortable spot in the bar. They rarely talk. There’s a cat and jazz music and whiskey, of course – all staple ingredients in any Murakami tale.

As is his way, the story exists between the lines. Murakami tends to create a mood as much as he writes a story, and there’s plenty of mood here. It’s simple and sad, and I had to think about it a bit to extract its message, I believe it's one of the strongest offerings in this book.

The final story is the most surreal. It’s a reversal of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis in which Gregor Samsa awakens to find himself transformed from insect to human. As he stumbles about his apartment trying to get used to this new, strange body, he is visited by a hunchbacked woman to whom he becomes attracted.

It’s my first foray into the world of the author’s short story collections, and it’s one I found hugely rewarding. As always with compendiums of this sort, some pieces attracted me more than others, but I enjoyed the fact that each felt very separate and different to the last. Murakami has a hugely fertile mind and an uncanny ability to put words on a page in a way that excites, confuses, and disturbs. I’m off to find more like this.

[Nishat · Rating 2 out of 5]

Seven stories. All about pitifully isolated men, struggling with the loss of women in their lives, coming to terms, although at a snail's pace, with death and heartbreak - some even failing miserably at that. It seems to me, Murakami has been writing about them forever.

Merging all the characters that Murakami, over the years, breathed life into, we invariably discover a man, always the same man, the ultimate loner. Murakami has given him new names and effaced older ones. But there's no question that it is the same, alienated man, we, from time to time, find ourselves reading about. Until now, I didn't mind, nor did I ever find myself bored on account of my hitherto incorruptible loyalty to the author. I have been always, what you call, a fan.

This time, I loathed his repetitiveness, and the weakness and frailty of his characters. Disgusted by their apathy towards others and their nonchalant way of going about life, I became increasingly indifferent as to how their stories progressed. Besides, from the outset, I was uncomfortable with the misogynistic undertones.

There's a certain, unmistakable charm to loneliness, to detachment. It is entirely possible to feel compassion for characters who have severed ties with their surroundings, characters completely robbed of love. But in this case, Murakami's men lack sincerity, their stories significance. Except 'Kino', the book's probably one saving grace.

Only a reader, relatively new to Murakami's world, should consider reading this book. As for me, I will be taking a short break from his otherwise colorful world, which kept me entranced, admittedly, for a long time now.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Audiobook...
I LOVED THESE STORIES!!!! They penetrated through my ears and my thoughts. I was hanging on to every word walking around town completely captivated.

The only thing I didn't like -- only for a couple of minutes-is when switching to a new story... I wasn't ready to transition. Yet, they were 'all' fascinating & amazing!!!

Quick question? Do you think women drive different than men? And...
MEN: do you feel less at ease in the passenger seat with a woman driving - than when a man is? Paul said yes...'usually'!

To my 'audiobook' friends.....( even if you mostly only listen to non- fiction audiobooks)...this was an EXCELLENT WALKING COMPANION...( Esil)... lol

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 3 out of 5]

They fucked around
  They found out
    They are Men Without Women and these are their stories.
Always a keen observer of the human heart with an ability to blend the melancholic with a touch of magic, Japanese author extraordinaire Haruki Murakami finds his signature gaze upon such titular men who have loved and lost, or failed to love at all. Women Without Men tends more toward realism than his usual whimsy and these seven stories arrived doused in despondency and revelatory introspection on intimacy or the lack thereof. ‘What I wish to convey in this collection is, in a word, isolation, and what it means emotionally,’ Murakami said in a 2014 interview with The New Yorker, a prevailing theme in his later works as both he and his cast of characters, weighted down by ‘the bloody weight of desire and the rusty anchor of remorse,’ watch youth vanishing in the rear view. Admittedly, this was not my favorite of his works. While his soothing narrative voice flows as beautifully as ever through heartrending ‘Memories, like seaweed wrapped around pilings on the beach’ to portray ‘emotions that, if cut, would bleed,’ I find Murakami’s examinations on sexual desire to be less successful than his other themes though the abstract sadness pouring from his character’s self-reflections always satisfy. As always, Murakami can craft such desolately beautiful moments with imagery that truly comes alive in the heart, translated here by Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen. Rife with infidelities, deaths, and characters fumbling through poor choices that leave them in the lurch, Men Without Women is a thoughtful look at the void left when love leaves and the stories we tell to survive it.

‘No matter how empty it may be, this is still my heart. There’s still some human warmth in it.’

In the story Drive My Car—which was adapted into a film of the same name in 2021—the narrator is advised that ‘if you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s not easy to look for it.’ Such is the struggles throughout these stories of men bruised and blown about by the wind, unsure where to turn when looking back tends to bring back heartaches afresh. Yet such isolations often leads to some real soul searching, and Murakami deftly captures the painful moments of self reflection we experience within in.

‘The proposition that we can look into another person's heart with perfect clarity strikes me as a fool's game. I don't care how well we think we should understand them, or how much we love them. All it can do is cause us pain. Examining your own heart, however, is another matter. I think it's possible to see what's in there if you work hard enough at it. So in the end maybe that’s the challenge: to look inside your own heart as perceptively and seriously as you can, and to make peace with what you find there. If we hope to truly see another person, we have to start by looking within ourselves.’

Murakami does not shirk from portrayals of life as hard, cold, and often gorged on grief, yet there is still a sense of hope aching in the corners. Drive My Car features a man having to be driven by a chauffeur after an alcohol accident revokes his driving privileges begins to accept his fault in his late wife’s infidelity while bonding with his driver. A woman caretaking for a man under house arrest find the power of storytelling bridges people in separate isolations, such as in Scheherazade, and even Gregor Samsa from Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis wakes up a human again here. Though while the characters can recognize ‘I need to learn not just to forget but to forgive,’ they are also thwarted by their own raw nerves always on the verge of collapse or self-sabotage. ‘I’m human, after all. I was hurt. But whether it was a lot or a little I can’t say.’ Such is the tragedy of isolation, it’s hard to find your emotional compass, and it’s hard to even recognize that is what you are looking for.

‘Can any of us ever perfectly understand another person? However much we may love them?’

To be clear, despite Murakami’s gift of humor and whimsy, this collection is drenched in a tone not unlike the ending of the story Kino where ‘all the while the rain did not let up, drenching the world in a cold chill.’ Which isn’t a bad thing, as the cohesive feel to the collection rather enhances its power. And there are some exquisitely beautiful moments, such as the story Yesterday—the second nod to the Beatles in titles and, speaking of titles, the collection borrows from an Ernest Hemingway title of the same name—where, after many years of a yearning for a woman he dated due to a friend wanting someone else to partake in his girlfriend, he meets her in adulthood where time has revealed a chasm of life separating them and finds himself listening to music in his car remembering what it felt like to be 20. ‘I watched the moon alone, unable to share its cold beauty with anyone,’ Murakami writes, recalling the woman’s recurring dream years before. It hits hard, and I applaud Murakami for that skill. Other stories like An Independent Organ have a bleaker tone where a character must ‘realize that I’m just a human being with no special qualities or skills.’ and then withers away after a failed love affair because ‘he’d lost his soul and it wasn’t coming back.’ It is a somber collection, but Murakami knows the right chords to play on the heart strings.

‘Music has that power to revive memories, sometimes so intensely that they hurt.’

I also enjoyed glimpsing the writing process as some of these stories appear in other ways, even just whisps of theme, in other works. Most notable is the title story which gets reconfigured in when the husband of Tengo’s married sexual partner calls to say she has been ‘irretrievably lost’ in 1Q84.

‘One day, I lost sight of her. I happened to glance away for a moment, and when I turned back, she had disappeared.’

I’ve been meaning to read Men Without Women for years, having long enjoyed Murakami, but each time I tried the opening paragraph rant on why the narrator believes women can’t drive had me sigh and set the book back on the shelf. Murakami’s depictions of women tend to be the most common criticism of his work and this collection has a lot of moments to cringe at. Multiple women exist simply to either die or have an affair (or, as in the case of Drive My Car, both!) in order for the lonely man to realize something about himself and…its a bit of a bummer to say the least. And yet many of the women here are rather strong and independent, especially in contrast to the downtrodden men struggling through their stories. Personally, this collection tends to miss what usually makes Murakami such a delight for me and continuously circles back to the often cringeworthy sexuality of discussing a west wind raising his penis, erotically charged pencils and the man simply cannot let any breast go undescribed. And like, this passage from An Independent Organ is just…like…what if we didn’t?

‘Women are all born with a special, independent organ that allows them to lie. This was Dr. Tokai’s personal opinion. It depends on the person, he said about the kind of lies they tell, what situation they tell them in, and how the lies are told. But at a certain point in their lives, all women tell lies, and they lie about important things. They lie about unimportant things, too, but they also don’t hesitate to lie about the most important things. And when they do, most women’s expressions and voices don’t change at all, since it’s not them lying, but this independent organ they’re equipped with that’s acting on its own. That’s why – except for a few special cases – they can still have a clear conscience and never lose sleep over anything they say.’

Stop it, Murakami, I love you but please say less. And sure, it’s probably an accurate depiction of people who think that way but like, maybe don’t? I don’t know, write what you want but I want to believe it’s okay for me to say I’m not into that. That’s the thing with this collection, I’ve enjoyed Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman and my favorite parts of his books are often the little aside stories that don’t need to go anywhere because they add texture, but these stories don’t hit as strong without the larger context of a novel to be adding texture to I suppose. And I tend to prefer him at the more abstract—to be fair, Kino hits some blissfully surreal moments—but that’s just me and I don’t have any business passing judgement so like, enjoy what you want this one just wasn’t my favorite. I’ll still continue eagerly reading him though. And he does have some amazing moments in this.

‘There were times he thought it would have been far better to never have known. Yet he continued to return to his core principle: that, in every situation, knowledge was better than ignorance. However agonizing, it was necessary to confront the facts. Only through knowing could a person become strong.’

While admittedly not my favorite, Men Without Women is a visceral exploration of isolation and the introspection it often leads too. A downbeat yet still delightful collection.

3.5/5

‘Dreams are the kind of things you can—when you need to—borrow and lend out.’

[leah · Rating 4 out of 5]

we all know murakami’s portrayal of women is questionable at best and pure misogyny at its worst, for instance in this book two of the main takeaways seem to be:
1. women are bad drivers
2. women are evil and will cheat on you any chance they get

(but somehow life without women makes for a lot of miserable men? hmm very interesting)

murakami is definitely a male author who writes his books for a male audience, but i like to think that me still enjoying them, as a woman, serves as some kind of feminist reclamation of power. at some point you just have to laugh about it and move on.

[Dr. Appu Sasidharan (Dasfill) · Rating 5 out of 5]

(Throwback Review) I still remember the day I read this book. I read two books with the same name by two great authors in one single day. The first one was Men Without Women, written by Ernest Hemingway and the second one was Men Without Women written by Haruki Murakami. I don't know which one was the best. Both are exceptional books, and I loved both of them. This book is a collection of seven short stories written by Murakami. Loneliness is one of the important topics discussed in this book.

“There were times he thought it would have been far better to never have known. Yet he continued to return to his core principle: that, in every situation, knowledge was better than ignorance. However agonizing, it was necessary to confront the facts. Only through knowing could a person become strong.”

[Candi · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Loneliness is brought over from France, the pain of the wound from the Middle East. For Men Without Women, the world is a vast, poignant mix, very much the far side of the moon.”

I couldn’t get enough of Haruki Murakami after my passionate fling with him and his Sputnik Sweetheart last month. I hadn’t intended for it to be just a fleeting, casual flirtation. I knew I’d be going back for more after he accepted my apology for abandoning him several years ago. And I did just that, less than two weeks later. I quickly downloaded this collection of seven short stories and surrendered myself to his prose once again.

The theme of all seven stories is self-evident from the title. In each, Murakami writes of men suffering from loneliness and isolation, primarily from women but also from much of society in general. They have suffered a breaking of relationships with women either due to death, abandonment or disintegration of marriages or love affairs. The yearning of these men to make connections and the despair they endure is palpable. With few and simple words, Murakami conveys to the reader exactly what they are going through, and the reader experiences the same heartache. At least this reader did.

“Life is strange, isn’t it? You can be totally entranced by the glow of something one minute, be willing to sacrifice everything to make it yours, but then a little time passes, or your perspective changes a bit, and all of a sudden you’re shocked at how faded it appears.”

One thing I realized, despite the title, is that this collection doesn’t just highlight the men but also points to the women that in many cases are experiencing pain as well. Some of them are in adulterous relationships, others have passed on from this world due to disease, and yet others are solitary souls themselves, set apart from love and companionship for various reasons. It is not the fact that they are simply without men, but rather their isolation has made their various cuts and bruises stand out more clearly.

“I was their only child. If I’d been prettier, Father never would have left. That’s what Mother always said. It’s because I was born ugly that he abandoned us.”

Of course, I didn’t love all seven stories equally. But for the most part, I was hooked. I took something away from each of them, but there were a couple of clear favorites with “Kino” and “Scheherazade” at the top of my list. Surprisingly, I loved “Kino” for its magical realism vibes. Murakami masterfully utilizes this stylistic device in such a way that I, a rather unimaginative reader, can wholeheartedly swallow with no hesitations. “Scheherazade” enticed me with its allure of ‘bedtime stories.’ Who can resist the idea of someone storytelling after sex?! Yes, please!

“The other thing that puzzled him was the fact that their lovemaking and her storytelling were so closely linked, making it hard, if not impossible, to tell where one ended and the other began.”

I would not hesitate to recommend this collection for anyone interested in sampling Murakami’s writing. I perhaps should have read this before Sputnik Sweetheart, because it paled just a tad in comparison to that enchanting novel. But that’s okay, it’s a tasty little morsel and I’m happy to have read it. I’m certainly seeing a clear theme to his splendid writing and can’t wait for more.

"But the proposition that we can look into another person’s heart with perfect clarity strikes me as a fool’s game. I don’t care how well we think we should understand them, or how much we love them. All it can do is cause us pain… Examining your own heart, however, is another matter. I think it’s possible to see what’s in there if you work hard enough at it. So in the end maybe that’s the challenge: to look inside your own heart as perceptively and seriously as you can, and to make peace with what you find there. If we hope to truly see another person, we have to start by looking within ourselves."

[Liong · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can’t remember much about this book, as I read it six years ago.

In Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women, seven interconnected short stories explore the lives of men coping with the absence of women.

Murakami’s signature style blends realism and surrealism, creating an atmosphere that feels both dreamlike and intimately familiar.

Drive My Car

Yesterday

An Independent Organ

Sheherazade

Kino

Samsa in Love

Men Without Women

Will they find their answers? Will the women ever return, or will the men learn to live without them? ❓❔

[Nayra.Hassan · Rating 4 out of 5]

كانت تقدم له ما ينشده..تنسيه الواقع مثل☆
سبورة سوداء ممسوحة بقماشة مبللة..لقد ازيلت عنه المخاوف و الذكريات..من يمكنه ان يطلب اكثر☆؟ اليس هذا ما ننشده جميعا من قراءاتنا للقصص ؟

اليابانيون. .لغز حياتي
ظل أبي يسافر اليابان سنويا لعشرين عام
و بعض أقاربي سافروا ايضا
و انا تعاملت مع بعضهم منذ دهر حيث كنت المادة الرئيسيةلعدة استبيانات و أجبتهم عن مئات الأسئلة العجيبة
الكل و انا معهم اجمعنا على انهم ليسوا بشر مثلنا على الإطلاق. .بل هم المادة الخام للأدب و والضمير و الاجتهاد و الدقة

حتى جاء موراكامي ليقنعني انهم بشر:يخرفون. .يضعفون..يخونون. . مع الاحتفاظ بدقتهم التي تثير كل احقادك الدفينة
قصتنا تغوص في 3مستويات من النفس البشرية. .مبدئيا لو كنت تتساءل عن أدق مشاعر شهريار تجاه قصص شهرزاد ستجد الإجابة في هذه النسخة العصرية

هنا نتعرف على { هابارا }شاب وحيد حبيس منزله؟ تتعهد شهر زاد؛ ممرضة معتزلة بأداء متطلباته {كلها!! } و تقص عليه شذرات انطباعية من حياتها على حلقات ..حتى تعترف له بهوايتها الشاذة في اقتحام البيوت الخالية منذ الصبا. .ينجرف معها هابارا في قصصها

يتألق هاروكي في تفاصيل لا تصدق وضحت الهشاشة الإنسانية للمرأة اللغز شهرزاد ..لكني اضطررت لخصم نجمتين لانه استعمل معنا نفس اسلوب شهرزاد هنا
cliffhanger
..و لان القصة" 20 صفحة" ذات طبيعة إباحية

هابارا انت لست جزيرة معزولة ..انت السلمون. .وقعت في الشرك

Merged review:

عندما تتكور على نفسك في احدى زوايا العالم و تتمنى لو تركك الجميع لشانك ..تتمنى لو عبروا جسدك بابصارهم كما لو كنت شفافا ..و يظل احساسك بالضألة و عدم الاستحقاق يؤكد لك انك لم ترتكب خطأ لكنك ايضا لم تفعل الأمر الصائب


احتاج ان أتعلم الصفح وليس النسيان🌚

هو لم ينجز شيئاً في حياته، في نهاية الأمر، ولم يكن منتجاً على الإطلاق. لم يستطع أن يسعد أحداً، كما لم يسعد نفسه بالـتأكيد. السعادة؟ لم يكن يعرف معناها. لم يكن لديه معنى واضحاً أيضاً لعواطف مثل الألم، أو الغضب، الخذلان، والاستسلام. وكيف ينبغي أن تشعر بها.⬇

احتاج ان أتعلم الصفح وليس النسيان..
و لكن من يحتاج الصفح ؟ أنا ؟ ام من أخطأوا في حقي ؟
كينو رجل في منتصف العمر يتعرض لصدمة عمره: زوجته تخونه على فراشه مع صديقه و زميله في العمل لكنه يكبت مشاعره..يتعالى عليها
هناك أحيانا صدمات و اهانات تخرسك لشهور بل لاعوام
و هناك مخاوف تلتهمك حرفيا ولا تترك سوى حطام
تدمر الواقعة حياته القديمة تماما يترك عمله و بيته و يرحل باسطواناته الفينيل ..و عندما تستقر حياته الجديدة ..تنقلب من جديد

يا للمكان الجميل،” قالت..زوجته التي خانته ” هادئ، نظيف، وساكن-يشبهك.”ا
و من قال ان الكل يحبون الهدوء و النظافة؟ الكل يطمعون بها من باب الطفاسة ..و لكن يكتشفون انها مملة لا تثير احدا ..فيرفسونك في اول فرصة

نحتاج جميعا ان نتعلم الصفح وليس النسيان.



🔝في الأساطير، الأفعى الأكبر والأذكى تخفي قلبها في مكان ما خارج جسدها. وبهذا لا يمكن أن تقتل. إذا ما أردت أن تقتل تلك الأفعى، عليك أن تذهب إلى مخبئها عندما لا تكون فيه، وتجد القلب الخفاق، وتقطعه إلى اثنين. ليست مهمة سهلة، بالتأكيد⬇

و فجاة يسفر موراكامي عن وجهه الرمزى المجنون و تمتليء القصة بالافاعي ..و" اتذكر انا فولدمورت و الهوركروكس الاكثر صعوبة : الافعى ناجيني"ا

هل الأفاعي هي: الالم المكبوت؟
الغفران المفقود ؟
الكينونة المهترئة؟
الذكريات القاتلة؟

اذن: نحتاج جميعا ان نتعلم الصفح وليس النسيان..و لكن للاسف النسيان هو ما نتوق اليه

شكرا لاختيار و اكتشاف في اناقة صديقنا كمال ذو الذوق الموسيقى و الادبي الرفيع

[BookHunter M ُH َM َD · Rating 4 out of 5]

صفحات قليلة للغاية و اسم مشوق للغايه و افكار غريبه لللللـ... لللللـ... للغايه ايضا مشيها كده

هو فعلا كاتب مختلف استطاع ان ينسج عدة قصص فى قصة واحدة تماما كألف ليلة و ليلة

كان من الممكن ببساطه ان تكون قصة فتاة تروى لمحة من حياتها كمراهقة ... ستكون قصة غريبة و مشوقة و لكنها لن تكون رائعة. أما هنا فهو يجعلك تحبس انفاسك و انت تتقافز بين عدة اقصوصات غير مكتملة و كلها تشحذ خيالك و تملأه بالصور التى تتناثر كقطع البازل الغير مرتبة.
الكاتب الجيد هو هذا الذى يجعلك جزء من القصة و يجعلها جزء منك فتكون رؤيتك لها شىء يخصك وحدك و ربما لان يفهمه شخص اخر

أغلق هابارا عينيه وتوقف عن التفكير بشهرزاد. وبدلاً من ذلك فكر بثعابين البحر. بالمخالب التي تلصقها ثعابين البحر على الصخرة. مختفية بين أعشاب الماء. تتأرجح جيئةً وذهاباً في التيار. تخيل أنه كان واحداً منها ينتظر ظهور السلمون. لكن لم يمر أي سلمون. لا يهم كم انتظر من الوقت. لا سلموناً سميناً ولا نحيلاً. ما من سلمون على الاطلاق. أخيراً غربت الشمس وكان عالمه يتلاشى في الظلام.

لينك النوفيلا
https://goo.gl/9Pte1X
من مجموعة حدائق موراكامي - الجزء الثاني

[Jim Fonseca · Rating 4 out of 5]

[Revised 3/7/23]

It turns out that Murakami is an excellent short story writer too. I’ve read six of his novels but this is my first collection of his short stories.



This is not a book about monks. There are plenty of women in the seven short stories. It’s about how men react to the loss of women.

“Suddenly one day you become Men Without Women. The day comes to you completely out of the blue, without the faintest of warnings or hints beforehand….Once you round that bend, this is the only world you can possibly inhabit…You are a pastel-colored Persian carpet, and loneliness is a Bordeaux wine stain that won’t come out.”

The title story sets the tone. One night (actually like 3:00 am) a man gets a call that a former lover, a woman he knew years and years ago, killed herself. He has not seen or heard from her for years. The caller is her husband. Why did he get this call?



The story Kino is structured like a Murakami novel. A man leaves his unfaithful wife and his dull job and opens a bar. A mysterious male customer comes in every night and reads in the bar. One night the mysterious man chases away a couple of thugs. The bartender becomes attracted to a female customer who has cigarette burns on her body. Snakes start appearing in the bar. His cat disappears. (Definitely a Murakami touch – the only thing missing is a deep well!). How are all these threads going to get knit together?

In Scheherazade, a man calls his lover by that name because she likes to tell him stories in the intimate moments after sex. She never tells him her real name because she is married and has a couple of kids.

An Independent Organ is the story of a fifty-ish, wealthy cosmetic surgeon. He has multiple women friends and seems to have a formula for balancing them all without getting too close to any of them. Suddenly he falls in love and his life changes in a devastating way.

Other stories are about an actor whose unfaithful wife just died, and about a man and a woman who meet years after they had a one-time date. Samsa in Love is a parody of Kafka’s story.

Some lines I liked:

His auto mechanic “…is running his palm over the dashboard as if stroking the neck of a large dog.”

“Her large, protruding ears were like satellite dishes placed in some remote landscape.”

“TV can be pretty useful when you have time, you ought to watch more TV. Don’t underestimate it.”



Good stories. I would read more of Murakami’s short stories. He has a more recent collection out titled First Person Singular which I have also read and reviewed. By the way, one of Hemingway’s first books was a collection of shorts with the same title, Men Without Women.

Top photo from flashpack.com
Middle photo from livejapan.com
The author from nymag.com

[Baba · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Murakami book of shorts and as ever the writing, tone, style, imagination etc. is peerless, but does his writing work for short stories?

The shorts:
- Drive My Car A man, a driver, a story shared. Love and remembrance in a car ride. -9/12.
- Yesterday About nothing, about everything, about yesterday (aren't all stories?). A short friendship and the lessons if any learned - 9/12.
- An Independent Organ A subversive tale of obsessive love. 9/12.
- Scheherazade A beautifully weighted tale of a teenage crush gone wild, and breaking and entering! 9/12
- Kino Tap, tap, tap, a man looking for peace decides to open a back street bar. Quirky and slightly magical realist tale of dealing with emotional pain. Tap. Tap. Tap. 8/12
- Samsa In Love Waking up as Samsa, is Samsa's first experience of being a man? Enter the hunchbacked locksmith! You couldn't make it up... Haruki can! 9/12
- Men Without Women The 2nd loneliest man in the world gets a call from the loneliest ; a tale about the unstoppable end of love! 9/12.

So the stories are pretty fine, well very fine, but I think they were simply not long enough. Haruki sets up these hypnotic situations, manages to thoroughly build up the characters, but each short story ending is to abrupt, these could have been 7 novellas; I wanted 7 novels! Short stories so good that I wanted to read more of each of them, much more. Genius. Four Star 9 out of 12.

2019 read

[Darwin8u · Rating 3 out of 5]

"That's what it is like to lose a woman. And at a certain time, losing one woman means losing all women. That's how we become Men Without Women."
-- Haruki Murakami, Men Without Women



This is a soft Murakami. A lot of his novels are dreamlike, but this one seems more like an emotional smell than a memory. There just isn't a lot to grab onto. It reminded me of petting a sea anemone flower at a local aquarium. I knew I was doing it. I was even thrilled a bit as I was doing it. It just didn't register in the way I predicted.

Anyway, the book is a series of short stories, I've included my ranking for each:
1. Drive My Car - ★★★★
2. Yesterday - ★★★
3. An Independent Organ - ★★
4. Scheherazade - ★★★★
5. Kino - ★★★★
6. Samsa in Love - ★★★
7. Men without Women - ★★★

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish I’d notated the moment when I realized how comfortable, almost swaddled, I felt as I read these Haruki Murakami tales. It is like meeting up with an old friend in a train station that I haven’t seen for a long time, and as we talk, I realize how much I miss the cadence of his voice and the specific way he shares with me the story of his life. I have a long reading history with Murakami so I’m not sure why I am so surprised. It isn’t a shocking surprise, but a pleasant surprise, like discovering that you love somebody whom you’ve been friends with for decades. These stories are about men without women, or we could say men without a person they love most dear in their lives. These men are not marooned on a deserted island or incarcerated for crimes or cold and dispassionate people. They have through design or mishap found themselves bereft of close female companionship.

These stories are ethereal. I feel like I am slowly drifting downward from above into the middle of events already begun. I am to only listen and learn what I can so I can piece together the dangling fragments of details in order to ride the slipstream of plot. These aren’t tidy stories in the sense that there is a beginning and an end. There is no ribbon wrapping the tendrils up into a nice big bow. The stories continue beyond what Murakami chooses to share with us. They are succulent, dainty appetizers that remind readers of the abundant feast that awaits us when we open one of his novels.


Drive My Car
”The most excruciating thing, though, had been maintaining a normal life knowing his partner’s secret--the effort it required to keep her in the dark. Smiling calmly when his heart was torn and his insides were bleeding. Behaving as if everything was fine while the two of them took care of the daily chores, chatted, made love at night. This was not something that a normal person could pull off. But Kafuku was a professional actor.”

Kafuku needs a new driver for his car, and he hires this enigmatic, quiet young woman with a slightly shady, mysterious past. It is always good for us to meet new people who we can tell our stories to. They are fortunate because we’ve told the story many times and have cut superficial parts, tidied up the main plot, and can present them with the most entertaining version of events. As the two of them develop a trust between them in those daily drives, a friendship begins to flourish. He talks to her about the woman he shared with others long before he lost her for good.

Yesterday
”The more I thought about my life up to then, the more I hated myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a few good memories--I did. A handful of happy experiences. But if you added them up, the shameful, painful memories far outnumbered the others. When I thought of how I’d been living, how I’d been approaching life, it was all so trite, so miserably pointless. Unimaginative middle-class rubbish, and I wanted to gather it all up and stuff it away in some drawer.”

I’ve certainly had those moments when I wanted to step outside myself and be someone brand new, someone of my own particular creation, based on avoiding all the past failures of my old self. This story is about a young man who meets a friend who is completely oblivious to how things are supposed to be done. He does everything...weird. It is invigorating to know someone like this, but also extremely annoying because he is doing exactly what you wished you had the guts to do. His friend even encourages him to go out with his gorgeous girlfriend because he feels he just isn’t right for her. This story is an ode to The Beatles song Yesterday. I know it is impossible for younger generations to understand how influential The Beatles were on the minds and souls of those who first listened to their music. I was three years old when they broke up, so I was the second generation of listeners, but I still remember the first time Revolution came on the radio.

An Independent Organ
”I’ve been out with lots of women who are much prettier than her, better built, with better taste, and more intelligent. But those comparisons are meaningless. Because to me she is someone special. A ‘complete’ presence.”

Our narrator for this story has always admired Doctor Tokai for his carefree lifestyle. He has never been interested in getting married, but instead prefers to borrow married women from other men. He isn’t attracted to beauty as much as he is those women possessing a quick wit and a brimming intelligence. He has an aptitude for extracting himself from these situations the moment the woman starts to feel too attached to him. He is a clever fox indeed, but as we know from our childhood fairy tales, sometimes the fox is so clever he traps himself. When the Doctor falls in love and is rejected, we start to understand why he was living such a life to avoid such debilitating feelings.

Scheherazade
”While the sex was not what you’d call passionate, it wasn’t entirely businesslike, either. It may have begun as one of her duties (or, at least, as something that was strongly encouraged), but at a certain point she seemed--if only in a small way--to have found a kind of pleasure in it.”

He is housebound, but a woman brings him food and supplies and stays to have sex with him. He thinks of her as Scheherazade, as she reminds him of that famed storyteller from One Thousand and One Nights as she shares with him stories from her life. She tells him of this boy she admired...lusted after, in school. She would break into this boy’s house and take something from his room. She would leave something of her own in exchange. He has no idea how she feels about him. It is one of those one-sided love affairs that can be so wonderful because the dialogue and the lingering looks are written into the script perfectly. This is one of my favorite stories from the collection. It has the right balance of spice and longing.

Kino
”It was obvious what they were up to. His wife was on top, crouched over the man, and when Kino opened the door he came face-to-face with her and her lovely breasts bouncing up and down. He was thirty-nine then, his wife thirty-five. They had no children. Kino lowered his head, shut the bedroom door, left the apartment, lugging his shoulder bag stuffed with a week’s worth of laundry, and never came back. The next day, he quit his job.”

I have to say I could only hope that I would have the presence of mind to handle such a horrific revelation as well as Kino did. He cuts through the unspooling fabric of his married life and moves on. He opens a bar in some property his aunt owns and starts to enjoy doing the things he didn’t have time for before, like reading books and listening to music. He is somewhat mystified that he doesn’t feel more anguish over his wife’s infidelity, but the bouquet of memories he’d made with her died the moment he opened the door. Things are going great, and then the cat he inherited with the place disappears, snakes begin to appear everywhere, a ‘yakuza’ takes to reading a book at the bar everyday, and a woman with cigarette burns begins to haunt him. This is an interesting supernatural story that goes in unexpected directions.

Samsa in Love
”Samsa looked down in dismay at his naked body. How ill-formed it was! Worse than ill-formed. It possessed no means of self-defense. Smooth white skin (covered by only a perfunctory amount of hair) with fragile blue blood vessels visible through it; a soft, unprotected belly; ludicrous, impossibly shaped genitals; gangly arms and legs (just two of each!); a scrawny, breakable neck; an enormous, misshapen head with a tanel of stiff hair on its crown; two absurd ears, jutting out like a pair of seashells. Was this thing really him?”

Gregor Samsa! I about fell out of my chair. Franz Kafka’s Gregor Samsa, quite possibly one of the most famous characters to ever emerge from a short story, is back. Only this time the metamorphosis is reversed. I’ve been thinking about rereading Metamorphosis for some time now, and I can only assume that the universe thought I needed yet another reminder. Murakami does not reveal what insect Samsa has metamorphosed from, but needless to say, this is one insect that is very confused to find itself trapped in such a useless body. The world outside has descended into chaos, and the news of the disruptive world is brought to him in the form of a hunchback woman who has come to fix a lock on the upstairs room. The very same room that Samsa found himself in this morning. The repartee between the woman and the childlike Samsa is permeated with quirky honesty. I was not ready for this story to end, and it is certainly one of my favorite stories of the collection.

Men Without Women
”It’s quite easy to become Men Without Women. You love a woman deeply, and then she goes off somewhere. That’s all it takes. Most of the time (as I’m sure you’re well aware) it’s craft sailors who take them away. They sweet-talk them into going with them, then carry them off to Marseilles or the Ivory Coast. And there’s hardly anything we can do about it. Or else the women have nothing to do with sailors, and take their own lives. And there’s very little we can do about that, too.”

It all begins with a phone call in the middle of the night from an emotionless voice informing him that his ex-girlfriend has committed suicide. I’m sure most of us have had a death call, and for some reason it usually comes between one and four in the morning, as if the dying person did her best to make it to a new dawn, but the oppressive black night just went on too long. The man is discombobulated by the news, and as he struggles to understand all the whys, he begins to move their relationship back to when they were both fourteen, as if he is trying to remember his time with her in more innocent days. He talks about his fourteen-year-old self being gone forever, and I often think about, when we lose someone who was close to us or who used to be close to us, who we were with them dies with them. We mourn them, but we also mourn the missing part of ourselves.

Murakami, throughout these stories, dangles some thoughts in front of you, and it is up to you to make of them what you will.

If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten and an Instagram account https://www.instagram.com/jeffreykeeten/

[Henk · Rating 2 out of 5]

Started enthusiastically due to having much enjoyed the Drive My Car 2021 movie, but ended up rather disappointed by this bundle. Men and women are in limbos, unable to meet in this book which is full of tell and little show
All he saw was the kind of stillness you might expect from someone who had recently lost his wife of many years. Like the surface of a pond after the ripples had spread and gone.

This was for me a clear case of the movie being better than the book.
Haruki Murakami offers stories of loner men, who struggle to find connection to the world in general and women in particular. The world they inhabit is dreamlike and has some very interesting imagery (that the Oscar nominated movie managed to capture expertly). Still in general I was hardly compelled to read on and felt in many instances rather cold about the main characters, with the storytelling being clumsy at times.

Drive My Car
Words, they felt, could only cheapen the emotions they were feeling.
Kafaku and his female driver develop into interesting enough characters, but I was primed by many of the elements from the movie, that don't come back in the 40 page story, and was left a bit disappointed after finishing is.

Yesterday
Because, in final analysis, the language we speak constitutes who we are as people.
Taking its name from the Beatles song, focusses on dialect, with one of the main character (Kitaru) having a Kansai dialect.
Erika, a beautiful girl the narrator is set-up to date by her current boyfriend. This date has profound impact on both parties involved, even years later.
The sense of melancholy, to not a necessary perfect time, in this story is very strong, expertly expressed in the next sentence:
But when I look back at myself at age twenty, what I remember most is being alone and lonely.

An Independent Organ
A Dr. Tokai, 52 year old bachelor is centre of this story. He inherited the plastic surgeon clinic from his father, which makes me question how long this has been an industry in Japan.
He grows madly in love, something the narrator observes from a far. For a story of obsession this is oddly detached and left no real impact with me.

Scheherazade
Why is every story in Men Without Women about affairs?
And this story starts really with an enormous amount of descriptions and no show, just tell. We have a mysterious women, lover to the main character, being a story teller. She compartmentalised her inner life, and has bizarre stories of remembering to have been an underwater creature in a past life.
This story is incorporated at the start of the Drive My Car movie.

Kino
Also has a scene I remember from the start of the Drive My Car movie
A man trying to wrap his head around his divorce. Dreamlike, not totally coming together but intriguing, one of the stories I enjoyed more of the bundle.

Samsa in love
A reversion of The Metamorphosis of Franz Kafka. Surprisingly touching how a former cockroach falls for a hunchbacked girl, while he finds out human life is far from easy.

Men without women
Bit of remembering more than a story, starting off with a late night call.
Again a man looking back on lost opportunities of happiness.

[Sam Quixote · Rating 2 out of 5]

Haruki Murakami’s latest short story collection is also my least favourite of his so far. Out of the seven fairly longish stories, only one of them was half-decent while the others ranged from bleh to agonisingly dull.

Kino is the ok story where a recently heartbroken man opens up a bar and plays host to a strange man who comes in every week, reads a book and drinks his booze. Its focus meanders quite a bit from Kino to the stranger to some random woman and then back to the stranger, though it’s never boring, and I liked the hint of magical realism dancing on the edges of the tale. However I would’ve preferred a less self-consciously literary, vague ending which left me unsatisfied and wondering what the hey I’d just read.

And self-consciously literary, vague, unsatisfying and what the hey basically sums up the rest of the stories! In Drive My Car, an actor gets a female driver to drive him to and from the theatre, along the way telling her about his dead philandering wife and the friendship he struck up with one of her lovers. Yesterday is about a man who goes out with his friend’s girlfriend who dreams of an icy moon. Scheherazade is about a man seemingly held prisoner in a house visited by a woman he calls Scheherazade (though it’s not her real name) who tells him about her odd dreams after they sex. A wealthy plastic surgeon starves himself to death after falling in love in An Independent Organ.

Uh… huh? I guess the theme is weird relationships but I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about it - Murakami’s women is cheating ho-bags? The stories feel like they’re trying to seem deep and profound but they come across as really shallow and pointless. I get the literary references - 1001 Arabian Nights (Scheherazade), Kafka (Samsa in Love), Hemingway (Men Without Women), and of course the near-obligatory Beatles nods (Drive My Car, Yesterday) - but so what? I have read Hemingway’s collection, also called Men Without Women, though it’s been years and I can’t remember it so I’m not sure if it ties into this in any meaningful way.

The worst stories were Samsa in Love and Men Without Women. A man wakes up to discover he’s Gregor Samsa - haaaah, geddit?? Like an inversion of Kafka’s Metamorphosis when Gregor Samsa woke up to discover he was a giant bug! Gregor Samsa falls in love with a hunchback locksmith and… that’s it. I guess it was all about that opening line. In Men Without Women some guy rambles on about a woman he used to love who’s just died. Awful, boring rubbish.

Kino was ok and the writing in general is of a high standard, and I liked certain elements of some of the stories like the odd, ambiguous scenario of Scheherazade - why is that man trapped in a house and can’t leave? On the whole though this is a very weak collection with a series of instantly forgettable crap. I’d recommend either after the quake or The Elephant Vanishes over this fans-only book.

[Cheryl · Rating 5 out of 5]

There I was, on vacation in Florida, when I received the email from The New Yorker with “stories to enjoy during the holiday.” Sure, as if I needed more stories to add to the ever-growing list. But the stories were right there, just a fingertip away on my iPad, and they were free. So I did what any other story addict would do: I opened the email and clicked the first link. Up popped Haruki Murakami. I didn’t know what to think about this. Was I to read another Murakami, only to become frustrated with the translation and story again, and in turn, feel as if I was downgrading the prized Murakami storytelling, just as I felt I did after reading, The Elephant Vanishes? No thanks. And then I saw these first two lines: “Each time they had sex, she told Habara a strange and gripping story afterward. Like Queen Scheherazade in ‘A Thousand and One Nights.’”

He had me at the first five words.

I haven’t read the original version of this story, but if it’s anything like Lahiri’s New Yorker version of “Sexy,” or Adichie’s “Birdsong,” you know that the translation has been fine tuned through some copious editing. I remember an instance in a graduate writing workshop, when we went over the form of Lahiri’s “Sexy.” That day, one of my workshop mates tried to follow along with the actual short story collection, but soon, we were all fascinated when we realized that The New Yorker’s version was shorter and a better read.

You start by thinking this story is about Habara, the male narrator trapped in his home and his mind, until you realize that it is about the woman he calls, Scheherazade. You see her through Habara’s eyes, you see her in his bed. You see her as a thirty-five-year old woman, and as a seventeen-year-old girl. There is also the story of her past, which tells you that she too, is a mental prisoner.

“She was a lamprey eel in a former life,” she tells him as they lay in bed. Lamprey eels have suckers, “which they use to attach themselves to rocks at the bottom of a river or lake. ”They float there, just waiting to attach themselves to something (or somebody if you’re looking at this in symbolic terms). Once they spy a trout, “they dart up and fasten on to it with their suckers. Inside their suckers are these tonguelike things with teeth, which rub back and forth against the trout’s belly until a hole opens up and they can start eating the flesh, bit by bit.” (Note to self: rethink ordering eel for sushi).

Scheherazade attaches herself to Habara and he to her, and it makes you wonder if she, the eel, is determined to suck something out of him. No pun intended. She tells him:

Lampreys think very lamprey-like thoughts. About lamprey-like topics in a context that’s very lamprey-like. There are no words for those thoughts. They belong to the world of water. It’s like when we were in the womb. We were thinking things in there, but we can’t express those thoughts in the language we use out here.

Scheherazade is a surface idiosyncratic but beneath it all, you sense she is more and so you wait for something disastrous to happen. Yet nothing does happen. Or does it? Is this layered suggestiveness Murakami’s way of giving his readers the power of ending a story for themselves? Sure, Scheherazade was a stalker in her past, an obsessive person who was so fatally attracted to someone, she broke into his home to smell his dirty sweatshirts, but what of the present?

This is a story of companionship and void sexual encounters, where the backstory informs the main story and pulls you along for the ride: “their lovemaking and her storytelling were so closely linked, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began.” At its core, it is about a man who is losing his freedom and fearful that someday, when he loses it completely, he will lose what he cherishes the most: the companionship of a woman. You don’t read this story and take a break; you read it in gulps, because this is the way Murakami intended.

[N · Rating 5 out of 5]

Master Murakami returns to form in this fabulous short story collection that revisits so many of his motifs: pet cats, sex, loneliness, The Beatles, jazz, stories, the surreal, and the never ending feeling of melancholy that happens to someone after a relationship ends. The collection asks the reader, "can any of us ever understand another person? However much we may love them?"(Murakami 33).

Standouts: "Drive My Car"

I read this collection in preparation of seeing the current film version of "Drive My Car" directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi. I wanted to see how Murakami's spare, clean prose might fit in with a movie that seems to be unsparingly sorrowful and bittersweet according to its gorgeous trailer.

I felt that this story was beautifully rendered: a man befriending the man his wife had an affair with, processing that she betrayed him, and after she dies- his driver, a tomboyish young woman becomes his confidante.

Since Chekhov's Uncle Vanya is referred to in this story, and that the male protagonist, Kafuku, an actor/director preparing to mount a production of Chekhov's play, this is very much a Murakami riffing on the themes of sadness and loss that the Russian master is known for.

Kafuki's driver, Misaki is one of the more interesting female characters Murakami has written. She isn't a sex fiend; or someone who winds up in a squirm inducing fuck scene, but she quietly observes Kafuku's grief; and in turn, becomes a friend to him when she tells him of her own story of loss. Kafuku wryly observes, "the place you return to is always slightly different from the place you left, that's the rule. It can never be exactly the same" (Murakami 24). One of the most tender works of fiction I’ve read by Murakami.

"Yesterday" is reminiscent of "Norwegian Wood", a story of loss and sex set against the classic sad song written by The Beatles.

“An Independent Organ" is a heartrending story of a doctor who starves himself to death from lovesickness, "the kind that elevates us to new heights...reveals beautiful illusions, and sometimes even drives us to death"(Murakami 113).

"Scherazade" is about a woman's affair with a lonely man named Habara who enjoys hearing her stories of childhood and mischief each time time they finish having sex.

"Kino" is a mysterious and surreal story of a man who befriends a stray cat in a bar, then as the bar and its customers seem to disappear, the sudden arrival of a snake infestation happens, baffling him and further alienating himself from his own mental sanity.

"Samsa in Love" is a hilarious riff on Kafka- this time the bug wakes up as a human trying to figure out how his body functions, how being naked and having constant erections is not the way to live in the world of civilized humans; and falls for a locksmith who is a hunchback. Though Samsa and Kafka's story is absurdist, Murakami makes this one a strange and ethereal love story, "maybe working on the little things as dutifully and honestly as we can is how we stay sane when the world is falling apart" (Murakami 209).

“Men Without Women" circles back to regret and grief, "we were mistaken about the time when we should have met. Like forgetting when you're supposed to meet someone" (Murakami 218).

In conclusion, these stories of loss are heartbreaking and irresistible to hopeless romantics like myself.

Nostalgia and looking back always are a thrill to remember, but a hell of a way to remind you that love hurts, "but the self that one one returned to was never exactly the same as the self that one had left behind" (Murakami 40). But overall, the stories have a gorgeous and haunting wistfulness, "for no one knows what kind of dreams tomorrow will bring" (Murakami 76).

These Chekovian stories linger and shows perhaps that his work and style might have influenced Murakami's own writing style that make them both masters of the melancholy.

[PopiTonja · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ja prosto obožavam ovog čoveka!
Savršeno, na njegov svojstven način upakovano.
Svaku sam priču doživela kao jedan mali roman.

❤️ Imam osećaj da su njeno i moje srce nečim čvrsto povezani. Kad se njeno srce pomeri, ono sa sobom povuče i moje. Kao dva čamca vezano konopcem. Čak i da želim da presečem tu vezu, sečivo kojim bi se ona dala preseći nigde ne postoji. ❤️

[Metodi Markov · Rating 3 out of 5]

Още когато попаднах на разкази на Мураками в списание "Съвременник", преди над десет години, си казах - този човек умее да пише страхотно.

След сборника "Мъже без жени" вече съм сигурен. Както и в това, че учените търсещи извънземни същества, няма нужда да ги търсят из необятния Космос - просто трябва да се заемат с японците. Те са истинските извънземни за мен и с всеки нов роман или разказ от японски писател моето мнение става все по-твърдо. Това прозира даже и в адаптираното според мен за вкуса на западния читател творчество на Мураками.

Сравнително ниската ми оценка на сборника е защото два от разказите въобще не ми харесаха - "Мъже без жени" и "Влюбеният Самса". Но пък "Независим орган", "Шехерезада" и "Кино" много ми допаднаха. Това са разказите, които ме поразтърсиха и накараха да се замисля, героите и проблемите им ми бяха интересни, а в съзнанието ми винаги ще остане да плава една луна, направена от лед.

Цитат:

"Сънищата са нещо, което човек може при нужда да дава и взима назаем."

[فؤاد · Rating 3 out of 5]

وقتی فارغ التحصیل شدم، عشقش از سرم رفت. اینقدر سریع و آسون که عجیب بود. چی داشت که منِ هفده ساله اون جوری عاشقش شدم؟ هر چی زور می زنم یادم نمی آد. زندگی عجیبه، نه؟ یه دقیقه مدهوش یه چیزی می شی، می خوای همه چی رو فداش کنی تا مال تو بشه، بعد یه کم وقت می گذره، یا نگاهت یه ذره عوض می شه، یهویی می مونی که چه جوری همه ی جذابیتش رو از دست داده. آدم از خودش می پرسه، پس داشتم به چی نگاه می کردم؟!

[inciminci · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed reading these stories from Murakami’s pen, and like everything I have read by him until now, and it’s really not much, I felt… soothed, maybe comforted a little. All of them revolving around men whose lives are marked by the absence of a significant other, whether they are widowed, divorced, lonely or simply single, these tales show the very different lives they lead and the very different ways they see life.

My highlight was Samsa in Love in which a beetle wakes up as Gregor Samsa, lol. I like the way Samsa falls in love, so pure.

If all Murakami stories are like this, I’m happy I haven’t read much by him until today, because that means I still have a load of great stories waiting to be discovered.
This is the December Light read over at Shine and Shadow, finally a selection in this group that is one hundred percent good!

[capture stories · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Here’s what hurts the most,” Kafuku said. “I didn’t truly understand her--or at least some crucial part of her. And it may well end that way now that she’s dead and gone. Like a small, locked safe lying at the bottom of the ocean. It hurts a lot.”

The title of the book caught my attention. The design on the cover depicted a man with a missing puzzle removed from his heart. What does it mean? Thus, my interpretation of the stories is as follows.

The empathetic tale of seven men whose confusion never came to understand the women. These were lonely men who never get to hold on to the “missing puzzle.”

The first story was about a veteran actor who’s still grieving over his dead wife. He never fathoms the reason for his wife’s affairs with other men despite the beautiful marriage. Or so he may think so.

The second story comes with Kitaru, a youthful man in his early twenties with a comical character. Pleasant looking until he opens his mouth. The perceived delicate appearance falters after he speaks. Kitaru has been dating his gorgeous childhood girlfriend, but their relationship could never go all the way to the end, left her baffled, and compelled to look for love somewhere else.

Thirdly, a strange story about Scheherazade? I find it difficult to relate to “Men without Women.” Scheherazade talks about a middle-aged woman who can have the gift to tell stories that keeps Habara addicted, wanting for more, each time after sleeping together. She cared and tended to Habara’s daily needs. Habara was so intrigued by her companion, care, and storytelling that he shudders at the thought of losing her.

As the stories progressed, and landed on Dr. Tokai- bachelor, cosmetic surgeon, and a player. Dr. Tokai was a gentleman with elegance and sophistication. Of all the stories, this one left an impression on me. How should I put it? Fascinating but tragic… After being a professional player, was never once burnt. He unexpectedly falls in love with a married woman. This one slip took his life. Yes, he died!

There are seven short stories. The next three stories weave around a bartender who’s wife left him for other men, his mysterious encounters with a man named Kimata, a quiet frequent to the bar. Kimata provided wise guidance and shelter when Jino met with dangerous encounters. Followed by Gregor Samsa, a newly born man who enters the world with utterly pure innocence. Hilarious conversations took place between him and the hunchback girl. Samsa experienced gullible physical reactions when his body reacts to love for the newly met girl. Last, the chapter ends with a man who got a call from his ex-girlfriend’s husband informing him about her suicidal death. The call triggers an entire history of memories of the time he spent with the ex, M. The memories of events how they got together, seeing each other, and the things they did together, eventually broke up, flooded his thoughts. He lost M, the woman he once loved dearly.

Murakami extended his acute diagnosis of men's vulnerability and helplessness when faced with LOVE's same cruel disposition. Men who also made from flesh and blood to feel and touch like women. They can love and hurt as deeply as women with their way of expression.

Murakami’s intention for this book may be to shift his readers' view to see the world from a distinct point of view: men’s inner, the suppressed pain and turmoil which we rarely see, at the dreadful fate follows losing the love of their life.

I am fascinated by the wry senses of humor, melancholy, and exceptional understanding of youth and age portrayed by Murakami. The failures of each man depicted in Murakami’s writing was unforgettable. It was a thrilling read from the start to the end.

[Panagiotis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Υπάρχουν δύο τρόποι να κοιτάξει κανείς τον Μουρακάμι: μέσα από το βλέμμα της δημόσιας, άμυαλης γνώμης, που σχηματίζεται αυθαίρετα, και θέλει τον Μουρακάμι εσαεί ηττημένο υποψήφιο νομπελίστα. Και υπάρχει και η άλλη, του αναγνώστη που θα δει τον Μουρακάμι μέσα από τα μάτια αυτών που αγαπάνε την γραφή του.

Αυτή η συγκρατημένη γραφή του, κάτι το μελαγχολικά ψυχρό πολλές φορές στον τρόπο που οι ήρωές του κινούνται και μιλάνε, ακόμα με κάνει να εκπλήσσομαι με την αναγνώριση που έχει παγκοσμίως. Αν και καθόλου δύσκολός στο διάβασμα, δεν έχει γνωρίσματα εμπορικού συγγραφέα. Και όμως, αποτελεί τον πιο αναγνωρισμένο Ιάπωνα μυθοπλάστη.

Νομίζω πως προτιμώ τις μικρές του ιστορίες. Εκεί που τα μυθιστορήματά του ελλίσονται σε αινιγματικούς δαιδάλους, τα διηγήματά του έχουν αρχή, μέση και, αναπάντεχα, τέλος. Και τούτες οι μικρές ιστορίες εδώ νομίζω είναι οι καλύτερες που έχω διαβάσει από τον Μουρακάμι.

[Ellen]

As usual, there is a bar, jazz music, and a cat. Along with a repressed man (Kino), out of touch with his feelings, and some supernatural happenings.

I loved this short story by Murakami (you can read it for free by following the GR link).

It is filled with his classic themes, soothing and haunting at the same time. Beautiful sentences:

“This was ambiguity: holding on to an empty space between two extremes.”

“The roots of darkness could spread everywhere beneath the earth. Patiently taking their time, searching out weak points, they could break apart the most solid rock.”

“He had to extinguish the ability to imagine anything. I shouldn’t look at it, he told himself. No matter how empty it may be, this is still my heart. There’s still some human warmth in it. Memories, like seaweed wrapped around pilings on the beach, wordlessly waiting for high tide. Emotions that, if cut, would bleed. I can’t just let them wander somewhere beyond my understanding.”

“All he could do was wait like this, patiently, until it grew light out and the birds awoke and began their day. All he could do was trust in the birds, in all the birds, with their wings and beaks. Until then, he couldn’t let his heart go blank. That void, the vacuum created by it, would draw them in.”

A willow tree outside hishouse-laden with meaning, an echo of something in Kino.

Trust in the birds.




Merged review:

Loved it! I always love Murakami, even his less than perfect works but this is an excellent addition to his oeuvre. I generally prefer his novels to his short fiction but these stories are wonderful.

The stories all center around the loneliness of the male protagonists. There are missed connections and losses and a general inability to connect or stay connected to anyone, especially women. But these men seem generally isolated and lonely. Even their male friendships tend to center around lost or unattainable women. The men particularly yearn for a woman to assuage their pain. Love-or the lack of it-is the empty center around which their lives revolve.

In the title story, the narrator learns that an old lover of his has killed herself. The writing in this story is the lyrical and moving as he contemplates their relationship and his loneliness (despite, apparently, his marriage!). I wanted to memorize long passages of this beautiful story (although I think the beauty of the writing was stronger than the story itself).

In "Scheherazade", a woman beguiles a homebound man (the reason for his being homebound is never explained, he's one of Murakami's men without the will to go into the world, in the most literal sense) with stories. In her tale of her adolescence, she talks of a boy she was obsessed with and where that obsession led her. Like the men, the women in these stories are also unable to form lasting connections with others.

"Samsa in Love" is the oddest, funniest, and yet also frightening/touching stories in the collection. In a riff off Kafka, a roach wakes up to find himself Gregor Samsa, a human. He has difficulty adjusting to his new body (as did Samsa) and vague memories of his perhaps once being a man named Samsa. He too is confined to his house where a hunchbacked woman comes to fix a lock. He is fascinated by her. But alongside this story of possible love is the presence of tanks in the city (the invasion of Prague by the Germans?) and the ominous absence of his family.

I had read the story "Kino" before but was happy to reread it. It is reminiscent of Murakami's earlier work, complete with a jazz bar and mysterious strangers. I was filled with a longing to reread his early novels.

Murakami remains, for me, a master of literature. Always interesting, always filled with beautiful writing and interesting stories. There is none of his literal magical elements in these stories but there is the magic of the stories themselves.

This would be an easy beginning for readers new to Murakami but perhaps not the best. I would still recommend Kafka on the Shore, IQ84. Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or A Wild Sheep Chase. And for short stories, I would recommend After Dark. But this would be almost as good a place to being: accessible, moving stories filled with Murakami's distinctive touches and themes. A new reader would certainly get a sense of Murakami's power as a writer. If he or she liked this book, there's a whole world of Murakami out there.

And, of course, for those of us already in love with Murakami, this is a must and rewarding read.

[B · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mua cuốn này đúng vào mùa Nobel công bố các hạng mục. Năm nay bác già lại trượt cái giải văn chương, không bất ngờ gì mấy. Bác là một thiên tài kể chuyện, không thể phủ nhận gì về điều ấy nhưng chỉ thế thôi là chưa đủ. Bác vẫn "thiếu", vẫn chưa thể đạt tới tầm của giải Nobel (mặc dù thiết nghĩ bác đã đạt tới tầm của một số người từng đoạt giải Nobel).
Trước ngày công bố, Svetlana Alexievich dẫn đầu trong danh sách của các nhà cái, cuối cùng bà ấy ăn giải thật. Thực sự thì chưa từng nghe tên bà ấy trước đó nhưng tìm hiểu sơ qua về tiểu sử thì Nobel năm nay đúng là bà ấy hoàn toàn ko có đối thủ.
Một nhà văn (nói đúng hơn là thiên về nhà báo) có khuynh hướng chống Cộng và bài Nga sâu sắc, từng phải hầu tòa nhiều lần vì những bài viết phỉ báng chế độ, sách bị cấm lưu hành, bị kiểm duyệt nghiêm ngặt ngay tại chính quê hương, là cái gai trong mắt Putin và chính quyền Belarus, từng phải sống lưu vong và cấm xuất hiện trước công chúng...
Còn gì toẹt vời hơn khi chọn đúng năm nay để trao giải cho bà ấy. Mùi chính trị cũng giống như mùi dưa khú. Rất dễ sực lên và tất nhiên cũng chẳng thơm tho gì :3
Quay lại với Haruki Murakami. Nếu bạn bảo tôi review về một cuốn nào đấy của bác thì thực sự trong tôi luôn thường trực sự bất lực tràn trề. Văn chương của bác toàn những chi tiết mơ hồ, kỳ quặc, khó tìm thấy sự liên quan nhiều khi là vớ va vớ vỉn. "Tác giả viết khi đang ngáo đá à" - đó là câu tôi buột miệng ra khi lần đầu tiên đọc cuốn của bác (biên niên ký chim vặn dây cót).
Cốt truyện thì nhiều khi còn chả có cốt truyện. Cuốn trước với cuốn sau có khi lặp lại y chang nhau về nhiều chi tiết. Tập truyện ngắn này còn đỡ hơn chút khi ko xuất hiện mưa cá, mưa đỉa hay giếng nhưng vẫn có mèo, rượu và nhạc cổ điển.
Nói chung là có thể nhiều người sẽ thấy nhàm nhưng tôi vẫn mê (và có vẻ nhiều người cũng mê như tôi). Tôi gạt phăng tất cả mà ngồi nhẩn nha đọc. Văn chương của bác giúp tôi thoát mình ra khỏi cái guồng quay điên cuồng như cắn thuốc lắc ngoài kia. À thỉnh thoảng tôi nghĩ bác già là một nhà thôi miên có hạng cứ bắt tôi lần giở hết trang này tới trang khác, đắm chìm vào nó, khơi gợi lên những thứ bị chôn vùi dù nhỏ nhoi hay to lớn. Và cuối cùng đọc xong là tôi cũng...coi như xong :3
Có 1 người bạn hỏi tôi rằng mày thích truyện nào nhất trong tập truyện ngắn này. Tôi miên man 1 lúc. Yesterday à? Hay Cơ Quan Độc Lập? Cũng ko thể bỏ qua Scheherazade được. Chẹp, sau đó rốt cuộc tôi trả lời Drive My Car là truyện tôi thấy...không thích nhất.
...mặc dù tôi vừa thi đỗ bằng lái xe xong :3



_________________________________________

Bác già liếm não người đọc, hoặc thậm chí là ngoạm, bằng cách chơi luôn 7 khúc cải lương não nề, nẫu ruột với ý đồ : trong thế giới không có đàn bà, đàn ông mê man, chuếnh choáng.
Làm gì mà ghê :|

Ừ thì cũng hơi ghê, nhớ hồi...xem.

Trong cuốn này có rất nhiều những suy tư của đàn ông về đàn bà (vẫn như thường lệ), những suy tư cực khó diễn tả thành lời (vẫn như nó vốn dĩ). Nhưng dù sao đi nữa thành lời hay ko thì khi bạn là đàn ông, bạn cũng ko nên lắm lời, nhiều chuyện. Bạn chỉ được quyền thỉnh thoảng tắt đèn tối om, bí mật ngồi khóc trong 1 góc nhà, cọ cái đầu gối đầy lông vào cái cằm chưa cạo.

Thế vẫn tốt hơn là biếng ăn như ông bác sỹ.

Thật ra thì có 1 số gã đàn ông vẫn đc quyền nhiều chuyện, nhưng mà là nhiều truyện. Ví dụ như Andersen.




Đọc cuốn này làm mình bất giác nhớ đến lời bài hát rất ko liên quan. Dịch ra tiếng Việt đại khái:

"Tôi nghe tiếng những bước chân xưa cũ như chuyển động của biển khơi.
Đôi khi tôi quay lại, có lần người đang đứng đó, những lần khác chỉ có mình tôi"

--------Đọc lại _ tháng 10/2017--------

[Kristina Dauksiene · Rating 4 out of 5]

LT/ ENG
Tarsi rūkas užslinkęs visą knygą smelkė liūdesys..vienatvė..praradimas...
Labai ryški daiktų simbolika.
Istorijos pasakotos is vyriskos pozicijos.
Istorijos tarp vyro ir moters, bet skaitant labiau linkstu prie to, kad tai buvo istorijos apie moteris: moteris ir mirtis, moteris ir jos meilužiai, moteris draugė, moteris meilė, moteris seksas, moteris fantazija, moteris istorija..
O gal visgi apie vyrus? Jų istorijos sutikus moterį..ir suteikus jai pavidalą artimą savo fantazijai..
Kai įgyjama, kaip prarandama..

Perskaičius knygą, atėjo laikas ir apdovanotajam filmui "Drive my car"!

🖋Būtų gerai, jei šiame pasaulyje turėtume prietaisą paprastai ir tiksliai pasverti liūdesį.
🖋Gyvenimas-keistas dalykas, ar ne? Tai, kas vienu metu atrodo neįtikėtinai ryšku, reikšminga, dėl ko gali paaukoti viską savo gyvenime, praėjus kuriam laikui arba truputėlį pakeitus žiūrėjimo kampą, ima atrodyti neįtikėtinai blyškiai.
🖋Nesu vienas negyvenamoje saloje...aš pats esu negyvenama sala.
🖋Myliu, bet yra poreikis atrasti kazka nauja, prisiliesti prie daugybes ivairiu dalyku. Vadinkime tai smalsumu, ieskojimais ar galimybemis.
🖋Kartais turbūt reikia jaunystėje patirti liūdesį ir išgyventi sunkumus? Tai žmogaus augimo dalis. Panašiai kaip medžiui.Tam kad užaugtų tvirtas ir aukštas, būtina išgyventi atšiaurias žiemas. Šiltas ir malonus klimatas nesubrandina amžiaus rievių.
🖋Kafuku viso pasaulio gėrikus skirstė į dvi grupes. Viena jų-žmonės, geriantys alkoholį tam, kad save kažkuo papildytų, kita-žmonės, geriantys tam, kad kažką iš savęs išmestų.
🖋..iki galo įžvelgti kito žmogaus sielą yra neįmanoma. Todėl svarbiausia, ką mes patys privalome padaryti, tai sąžiningai susitaikyti su  savo pačių siela.Jei ištikrųjų norime pamatyti kitą žmogų, nėra kito kelio, kaip tik tiesiai ir giliai žiūrėti į pačius save.
🖋Pats gyvenimas yra gyvybės žudymas.
🖋Tam tikri dalykai tiesiog ivyksta (neistikimybe, seimos palikimas..) ..tai tarsi liga..nepaaiskinama..Viskas yra ligos pasekmės. Galvok negalvojęs bet nieko nepakeisi. Mums belieka tik nuryti, persijungti ir eiti toliau.

As if a fog covered the entire book, sadness..loneliness..loss...
The symbolism of things is very vivid.
The stories are told from a male point of view.
Stories between a man and a woman, but more I tend to think that they were stories about women: a woman and death, a woman and her lovers, a woman -friend, a woman- love, a woman -sex, a woman- fantasy, a woman- story..
Or maybe about men? Their stories of meeting a woman..and giving her a form close to their fantasy..
When gained, how lost..

[Fatima · Rating 4 out of 5]

کاری به بدنه ی داستان که بر اساس کنش های جسمانی و شهوانی که عادت بین شهرزاد و هابارا بود ندارم یا حتی داستان های شهرزاد که خودتان بروید بخوانیدش( داستان کوتاه هست اسپویل میشود ). با بخشی خاصی از داستان ارتباط خوبی برقرار کردم ، حس از دست دادن چیزی که دارد به اوج خودش میرسد که تقریبا همه ی ما تجربه اش کرده ایم . حسی خاص که تا سالها لحظه نرسیدن به آن اوج بیشتر از خود واقعه یادمان هست . لحظه ی نرسیدن و نفهمیدن ، لحظه ای که شبیه خماری و مستی و ندانستن و ناآگاهی میماند ، لحظه ای که شاید ناخودآگاه پسش میزنیم تا آن واقعه و آن اوج مثل زندگی کسالت بارمان از سکه نیفتد و بعدش همیشه یک قلابی در گوشه ای از گذشته باقی بماند که در مواقع سردرگمی مرورش کنیم و خودمان اوجش را با تخیل مان هزاران بار بسازیم و هزاران بار هم آن جریان را تمام شده فرض نکنیم و باز روز بعد پایانی متفاوت از آن بسازیم و ...

+بارها گفته ام که عاشق قلم موراکامی ام ، اما کم گفته ام ....
+ترجمه گیل آوایی مثل همیشه خوب بود ...