A few months ago I wandered into Waterstones, penniless, just to kill some time, and I happened across a selection of books by one Haruki Murakami of Japan. The last book by an Asian author I read was Shanghai Baby by Wei Hui, and it was a steaming pile of dog faeces, it’s popularity driven only by it’s controversy. So I was on the lookout, because I like reading literature from around the world. I was particularly drawn to The Elephant Vanishes, because I was thinking at the time that I should really read more short stories too. I have bought it since (3 for 2! I also got Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell and Jennifer Government by Max Barry (just because)). However, until that fateful, penniless day, I had never heard of the guy.
In a prime example of how the universe conspires to fuck with my mind, I have been hearing his name fucking everywhere since. I’ve seen his name mentioned 6 or 7 times in the last hour, and even been reading the weblog of a guy who designed a cover for The Elephant Vanishes. I suspect I may have been subject to the influence of forces beyond my control when I “discovered” him…
I still haven’t read the book though. It better be good now after all this buildup.
