By Haruki Murakami
A wonderful hybrid of mythology and secret, A Wild Sheep Chase is the extreme literary mystery that introduced Haruki Murakami’s overseas popularity.
It starts off barely enough: A twenty-something ads govt gets a postcard from a chum, and casually appropriates the picture for an assurance company’s commercial. What he doesn’t observe is that integrated within the pastoral scene is a mutant sheep with a celebrity on its again, and in utilizing this photograph he has unwittingly captured the eye of a guy in black who bargains a menacing ultimatum: locate the sheep or face dire outcomes. hence starts a surreal and tricky quest that takes our hero from the city haunts of Tokyo to the distant and snowy mountains of northern Japan, the place he confronts not just the mythological sheep, however the confines of culture and the demons deep inside himself. Quirky and completely fascinating, A Wild Sheep Chase is Murakami at his brilliant most sensible.
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Additional info for A Wild Sheep Chase
She’d put away whatever simple dinner I cooked, fill my ashtrays, and have sex with me with the radio tuned full blast to an FEN rock program. Waking up Wednesday mornings, we’d go for a walk through the woods to the ICU campus and have lunch in the dining hall. In the afternoon, we’d have a weak cup of coffee in the student lounge, and if the weather was good, we’d stretch out on the grass and gaze up at the sky. Our Wednesday afternoon picnic, she called it. ” “Really? ” “Well, the grounds go on and on, everyone looks so happy …” She sat up and fumbled through a few matches before lighting a cigarette.
Plain clothes, plain looks. She seemed like a member of the chorus of a second-rate women’s college. But that was beside the point as far as I was concerned. What disappointed me was that she hid her ears under a straight fall of hair. “You’re hiding your ears,” said I, nonchalantly. “Yes,” said she, nonchalantly. We had arrived ahead of schedule and were the first dinner customers at the restaurant. The lights were dimmed, a waiter came around with a long match to light the red taper on our table, and the maître d’hôtel cast fishy eyes over the napkins and dinnerware to be sure all was in place.
Whenever I meet people for the first time, I get them to talk for ten minutes. Then I size them up from the exact opposite perspective of all they’ve told me. ” A waiter came, set the table with new plates, onto which another waiter served the entrée, topped with sauce by still another waiter. A quick double play, shortstop to second, second to first. “Applying this method to you, I’ve learned one thing,” she said, putting the knife to her sole mousse. “That your life is not boring. You wish your life was boring.