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Sputnik Sweetheart: Haruki Murakami

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As Sumire and Miu take a trip to Italy and Greece, Sumire unsuccessfully attempts to initiate a sexual relationship with Miu. In response, Miu opens up about a haunting trauma from her past that has left her devoid of any sexual desire and with hair as white as snow. Kuroda shines here as she recounts the night that Miu found herself trapped on a ferris wheel, yet also watching herself from a distance as she engaged in a peculiar sexual encounter in her far away apartment. The next morning, Sumire is gone, vanished without a trace, not to be seen again. K rushes to Greece to search for her and, becoming convinced she has left for another reality, he tries to follow her. Where the novel embraces magical realism, here the scene does not quite successfully transfer to the stage, leaving the moment just hazy and unclear. It’s a good story. The structure of the book is a lot like that of Norwegian Wood. A young man loves a young woman but she is out of reach for some reason. There’s a lesbian sub-story in both books. The man also finds himself attracted to the older woman in each story. I used to like him quite a lot, but come on, doesn't he get tired of writing the same book over and over again? Let me show you the pattern. A simple guy who likes to 1.cook 2.listen to music/read books 3. think about the meaning of life meets an ordinary girl who turns out to be totally extraordinary, which gets her into trouble soon after the guy falls for her. The guy tries to save her from something, predictably dark, but fails. The ending is usually bleak and confusing. Doesn't it all sound familiar to you, experienced Murakami-readers? Me asomo, alzo los ojos hacia un cielo todavía oscuro. En él, no hay duda, flota una media luna de tonos enmohecidos. Con eso basta. Estamos mirando la misma luna del mismo mundo. Estamos ligados a la realidad por una sola línea.»

And it's practically impossible to write a proper review for one of his books. Because it's all related to how real the writing gets while you're reading his books. Murakami Haruki (Japanese: 村上 春樹) is a popular contemporary Japanese writer and translator. His work has been described as 'easily accessible, yet profoundly complex'. He can be located on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/harukimuraka... I need to cut the throat of a dog. I need to spill blood...no, no, that was how the novel went. But I am different. I don't need to spill blood. Spilling blood was only a metaphor anyway. De esas novelas en las que no tengo mucho por decir más que esta puede resultar una historia del montón si no fuera por ese toque mágico/fantástico; lo surreal como concepto entre sus páginas. How many Sumires have I known in my life? No less than four I would say. None of them vanished like smoke, and yet they are far away somehow.Melly Still’s production is an artful attempt to capture the mystical aspects of the source material. Pencil-sketch projections from video designer Sonoko Obuchi reflect the on-stage action, while Shizuka Hariu’s set features a moveable phone box that becomes the focal point for several key interactions, the landline cord tying characters together both figuratively and literally.

She scrutinized me for a while, like I was some machine run by a heretofore unheard-of power source.” Our main character is Sumire, a young woman who has a short humdrum hairstyle, clothes that made you wonder what she could have been thinking, an ill-at-ease smile. She’s an aspiring writer, always scribbling away, thinking, pondering, not really marching to the same beat as everyone else. She’s all over the shop.Everything is ethereal, nothing quite as it should be. Whatever you think you perceive vanishes when looked at too closely. Like most great romances, Sputnik Sweetheart has the feel of a dream. There is something of Wuthering Heights here, in the way that not even physical separation can overcome the connections the characters share, and not even emotional closeness can fill the void each others absence leaves in themselves. As with Cathy and Heathcliff, what takes place defies explanation, and doesn’t really need one either. We feel, deep inside ourselves, that he has achieved the impossible, given form to the incorporeal, and confirmed what we all secretly wanted to believe: that sometimes longing for someone is the purest form of love one can experience. All over again I understood how important, how irreplaceable, Sumire was to me. In her own special way she’d kept me tethered to the world. As I talked to her and read her stories, my mind quietly expanded, and I could see things I’d never seen before. Without even trying, we grew close. Like a pair of young lovers undressing in front of each other, Sumire and I had exposed our hearts to one another, an experience I’d never have with anyone else, anywhere. We cherished what we had together, though we never put into words how very precious it was.” This is my 2nd novel by Haruki Murakami and just like Kafka in the Shore, this still amazed me. I even enjoyed this more than Kafka.

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