Here's the start of a massive trilogy - and part two came free with part one, just like in one of those Marshall Cavendish partwork magazines of the 1980s!
Murakami's one of those authors that people write a lot of preening drivel about. Sometimes I can't help thinking that if it was set in, say, Peterlee rather than Tokyo, it might lose its appeal in some quarters. There's a lot of thrillerish posturing and downright sexist nonsense about nudey ladies in Murakami that comes over as a bit duff... but, even so, I find his books quite addictive, even when I'm groaning at it all. This one's about a ghostwriter who ends up getting into trouble for a bestseller and a female assassin and how they both get drawn into a tangential dimension...
It ain't no 'Wind-Up Bird' and it's not even a 'Kafka on the Shore', but it was a nice, over-long diversion for midsummer afternoons in the Beach House.
Comments
Post a Comment