I just wrapped up “South of the Border, West of the Sun” by Haruki Murakami. As it has been with all the previous novels, I loved it. This novel is perhaps the most linear of the novels I’ve read so far. An interesting tid-bit about this novel: Murakami wrote this book while he lived in America for a few years during the 90s.
When I read, I normally have my moleskine somewhere nearby, and I often write down passages that move me while I read. Here are a few from this novel that moved me:
She gazed at me steadily as I talked. Something about her expression pulled people in. It was as if–this is something I thought of only later, of course–she were gently peeling back one layer after another that covered a person’s heart, a very sensual feeling. Her lips changed ever so slightly with each change in her expression, and I could catch a glimpse deep within her eyes of a faint light, like a tiny candly flickering in the dark, narrow room.
I stood there a long time, gazing at the rainswept streets. Once again I was a twelve-year-old boy staring for hours at the rain. Look at the rain long enough, with no thoughts in your head, and you feel your body falling loose, shaking free of the world of reality. Rain has the power to hypnotize.
Her eyes were like a deep spring in the shade of cliffs, which no breeze could ever reach. Nothing moved there, everything was still. Look closely, and you could just begin to make out the scene reflected in the water’s surface.