Finished this yesterday. Murakami runs a lot. So, it’s an easy comparison for ‘1Q84’ to say he’s demonstrating his ability to run a marathon in novel form as well. Steady breathing. Steady pacing. Solid form. For being 1,157 pages, to say this book “has no fat” still seems not possible, but the point isn’t to get to the end or resolution or climax quicker, but to really get to know the characters well, and feel their realness. Instead of just telling you there’s personal tragedy and thoughts about things from the characters, you’re shown in “real time” how they react and are affected by their traumas, their convictions. Ending the book is a relief because the tension and anticipation finally comes to an end. But I’ll miss reading these characters, and watching their lives rolling along. What a strange, touching, and strangely-touching book.

Also, Happy Birthday yesterday, Haruki Murakami.