I didn't read about it in LeMonde! A friend was intellectually generous and offered me the hard copy print out of the NY Times article about Haruki Murakami. That after he had read his non fiction piece, "What I talk About When I talk About Running"upon my high recommendation.
I flirt with the idea of beginning a book that attracts me strongly. I enjoy its power of seduction. The book, unbought, sitting in a bookstore waiting for me to snatch it. I start by asking around: has anyone read it? Does anyone want to read it with me? This time, I didn't get a reaction. But the craving grew stronger, the attraction more powerful. I succumbed to the purchase. Relished the quiet time I would find at the end of a maternal day to discover my new book.
I opened the book knowing about its first chapter. However, the New York Times article just could not bottle up the essence of those opening pages: the incipit. A waft of Murakami perfume drifted from its first paragraphs. I immediately imagined the scene in Manga animation, as if I were watching a precious movie by Hiroyuki Murito.
The first word of the novel is RADIO. The second sentence is about the music! The setting is a taxi caught in traffic. Isn't that a metaphor I use in my blog? Don't I obsess about the music I listen to on the Radio? In this case, it is classical music. Even here, I can identify for having heard the Japanese virtuoso, Seiji Ozawa, lead a concert in Geneva this summer.
I feel exhilirated because I am in tune with this Japan, mangas, music and author. The setting is exotic yet familiar. That is when I allowed the book to kiss me! I was enamored!