Contemporary Literature

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman: 24 Stories by Haruki Murakami

By Haruki Murakami

From the bestselling writer of Kafka at the Shore and The Wind-up chook Chronicles comes this really good choice of twenty-four tales that generously expresses Murakami’s mastery of the shape. From the surreal to the mundane, those tales convey his skill to rework the complete diversity of human event in ways in which are instructive, dazzling, and relentlessly wonderful.

Here are lively crows, a legal monkey, and an iceman, in addition to the goals that form us and the issues we would want for. even if in the course of an opportunity reunion in Italy, a romantic exile in Greece, a vacation in Hawaii, or within the grip of lifestyle, Murakami’s characters confront grievous loss, or sexuality, or the glow of a firefly, or the most unlikely distances among those that should be closest of all.

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Extra info for Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman: 24 Stories

Sample text

It was already hot and I had missed half the day. My balcony was now bare and I had no cover from the people walking back and forth. Sweeping, 56 / How to Get Into tHe twIn Palms walking, dogs shitting. I stared out toward The Calcutta. There were red and blue cups littering the front yard. There were Christmas lights blinking on and off on the top railing. I shook my head and sat down. I stared down to my cigarette-hiding place and saw that they were gone too. ” My neighbor with the homemade haircut was leaning into my balcony from his mother’s balcony.

That was the kind of girl he wanted me to be. Karolina WaclaWiaK / 55 I WOKE UP LATE. I DIDN’T HAVE ANYWHERE TO go anyway. My head hurt and I had forgotten to wash my face. My eyes hurt from the caked on makeup and my skin felt slick. I went to the bathroom and took a look at myself. I thanked God that I hadn’t let Lev in. I wiped the soot caked around my eye and looked at my nails. Cracked polish, chipped like skylines and worn down to nubs. They hurt and were inflamed. I poured hydrogen peroxide over each finger.

A kabanos. I didn’t care who saw me. The sausage was dry because I had left it unwrapped in the refrigerator and it tasted like jerky. I had a jar of horseradish next to me and I would dip the sausage into the jar and pull out a clump at the tip and eat it. That mixed with the cigarette I was furiously inhaling made my breath hot and sour. I leaned back in my chair and heard a creak and snap. The crack at the bottom of the chair was getting worse and I didn’t care. I snuffed out the Misty and started another one.

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