Being in the middle of a good novel is not unlike being in love. Since I started with IQ84, it has been my date to every occasion. It is there in the morning and it is there at night. The companionship feels so natural, like an extension of myself, that it is easy to forget how rare that feeling is. And while a good short story can fill my heart, it won’t hold my hand for a whole plane ride. At 925 pages, I feel like I could travel the world with 1Q84. I’m about halfway through, and I’ve already ordered a Chekov book that has a cameo in 1Q84 as a sort of literary rebound. To Murakami’s credit, the writing is much lighter than the book, and carting around this 4-pound tome has none of the burden a long-term relationship or War and Peace.
"Whenever I write a novel, I have a strong sense that I am doing something I was unable to do before. With each new work, I move up a step and discover something new inside me. I don’t see this novel as a departure, but I do think it has been a major step in my career. Formally speaking, this is the first full-length novel I have written from beginning to end in the third person."
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- Haruki Murakami, the author of this week’s story, “Town of Cats,” talking to the magazine’s fiction editor, Deborah Treisman. Click through for the rest of their chat. (via newyorker)
I rarely get so excited about a new book that I buy it in hardcover. 1Q84 will be one of those exceptions.
Related: The worst part about not having a mailing address is not having my New Yorker subscription.
For the past few months, my mom and I have been looking forward to this week. On Tuesday, she got a new hip. On Sunday, I will run my first marathon.
There are staples running along her right side, but she’s doing fine and can still wax metaphysically. When I visited her yesterday, she said, “I had March 22 in my head for so long, I’m not really sure what comes next.”
I feel the same way. For the past 18 weeks, this race has entered my head one way or another. And two days following the race, I’m going to Portland for a week. I must have thought I would just fall off the calendar after the marathon and my trip, because the rest of spring feels distant. Plans for mid-April feel a dream.
Until spring feels real, I recommend the Haruki Murakami short story “U.F.O. in Kushiro,” reprinted in this week’s New Yorker and also available in the short story collection After the Quake.
