Wound-Up

I’m currently reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which is a delightful change of pace from the engineering safety manuals (for work) and books on US foreign policy (for “fun”) I’ve been reading lately.

I’m in love with Murakami’s style and captivated by his story. I find myself devouring page after page on the train to and from work, completely lost in his cadence and imagery. I have to force myself to stop reading at night. I like that the story envelops me as I’m turning pages; that I’ve been able to develop such a deep relationship with the characters in such a short time, but it’s starting to haunt my non-reading hours as well. Yesterday on the train to work Toru (main character) and I began to suspect that his wife had left him. As evidence confirming our suspicions began to amass, I felt increasingly lonely; increasingly betrayed. I spent the rest of the day at work feeling utterly empty, like whatever part of me that’s capable of trust and feeling had been ripped from my chest and left a hollowed out shell where I used to be. This book should come with a warning label.

--

PS – wound is a funny word to say over and over