Book 1: It Took Forever

Yes, still alive here. I know, I've been quiet. In my post-glutening recovery, I managed to catch a stomach bug which squashed me for an additional week. But this week I finally seem to have mostly defeated everything and am back to normal-ish (or what passes for it currently).

"And also," the driver said, facing the mirror, "please remember: things are not what they seem...."

The driver chose his words carefully: "It’s just that you’re about to do something out of the ordinary. Am I right? People do not ordinarily climb down the emergency stairs of the Metropolitan Expressway in the middle of the day—especially women....

"And after you do something like that, the everyday look of things might seem to change a little. Things may look different to you than they did before. I’ve had that experience myself. But don’t let appearances fool you. There’s always only one reality." (p32)

And now that we are solidly in the middle of the year, I am happy that I can say I've actually read a book! Yeah, it took ages but in my defense, it was over 1200 pages long. Of course, I could have finished it sooner if I had actually read it consistently instead of ignoring it for a couple of months, but oh well. I'll admit, I put it down for a while because I got too attached to the characters (well, Aomame really. She's kind of awesome. Tengo was a bit boring.) because I assumed one of them would be killed.

Constipation was one of the things she hated most in the world, on par with despicable men who commit domestic violence and narrow-minded religious fundamentalists. (p166)

The book was 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami and it seems like this is either a book you love or you hate. I fall in the "love" category. I didn't get it, but I did really enjoy it.

It was probably Chekhov who said that the novelist is not someone who answers questions but someone who asks them. (p351)

I kept finding myself second guessing what was going on and what would happen and what things meant something and what was just a distraction. Honestly, I'd kind of like to read it again now that I know what happens to see if I could pick up hints as to what it actually means.

As a story, the work is put together in an exceptionally interesting way and it carries the reader along to the very end, but when it comes to the question of what is an air chrysalis, or who are the Little People, we are left in a pool of mysterious question marks. (p496)

And why yes, this book does fit in with my pattern of reading really random and confusing fiction. Apparently I like not understanding what the heck is going on. I'm pretty sure this is the exact opposite of when I was in school. Whatever. I'm embracing it now.