In 1969 we were seventeen. We listened to the Beatles, the Stones, the Doors, the Velvet Underground, the Grateful Dead, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Bob Dylan. We read Rimbaud, played guitars, smoked pot, fell in love, rebelled against the establishment, protested the war in Vietnam, barricaded our high school, and produced the first rock festival in our home town-a small city in a remote southwestern corner of Japan... SIXTY-NINE is a roman à clef about coming of age during a time that left its mark on baby boomers around the world-a time when we really believed we could change the world before it changed us. By turns hilarious, cynical, frivolous, and poignant, the book is infused from start to finish with Ryu Murakami's relentless energy and optimism; it simply refuses to get tedious, preachy, or "literary" for a single moment.
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I've never written a serious review and won't start here; this will be just a fraction of my thoughts after finishing the novel. Well, calling Ryu Murakami my favourite writer gave me the fortunate chance of getting my hands on 69.
Sex, murder, blood and ultimately murder is the usual combination that's stuck with the writer in Ryu's style. This time, you will totally be blown away by his candor, a certain coziness of lost high school memories, extreme actions only for a kiss and hell, even romance. Be aware, the dark humor is still there, as sometimes it can remind you of Popular Hits.
If you believe there is more than a devilish figure behind Ryu Murakami's presence, I invite you to read this novel. You won't be disappointed.
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