Haruki Murakami has to be one of my favorite writers and storytellers of all time,
but I'm only giving this particular book three stars out of five, which is simply a "Good"; leaving me saddened, in my
own personal feelings during my reading; saddened for the main character's
feelings; and saddened in the overall writing of this story.
The boredom
I continually felt, fought with my knowledge of my wanting to find something
worth salvaging from this story. There were interjections of words of wisdom,
but confused them in the mix of sexual meaningless.
I wanted to feel each point of the story, to connect them to other points of the story, but it blasaily continued on, and on, leaving me feeling cheated in small disconnected ways, and then watching the main character, Tsukuru Tazaki, sit endlessly watching trains go by, time after time,was equivalent to watching paint dry.
For the life of me, I can't stand it when a writer has a character "biting her lip", on multiple occasions no less, until I want to "swoon" in dismay! Why do writers like Murakami stoop to an Austenesque melodrama?
I felt as if I were dropped in the midst of a
Murakami personal journal, not good, not bad, just "lacklusterly" there and
resigned. I think “lackluster” pretty much covers it in a word.
Yes, writers
can leave endings to the reader’s own imagination, but my imagination was split
right down the middle, almost hoping Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki would simply die
in the end from one of his “shooting pains to the heart”. Yes, again, this main
character depressed me to that point.., but instead Tazaki fades away into his
colorless unconsciousness... Was there hope for him in the end? Only Murakami can
answer that..
It saddens me to have to say these negative things about this novel, but that's how it left me feeling, saddened to my core.
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