Over a thousand pages of pure brilliance. But I'm only on page 150
Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way?
I love Haruki Murakami, I've never read Hard-Boiled. How is it so far?
It's very complicated . And I'm still confused. But I love his style a lot. The first chapter was awesome (I'm in the middle of the book now).
I had read a review on the Kafka book saying that "Murakami's books are irresistible metaphysical narcotics." No matter how confused I am, it's a great read.