Die Pilgerjahre des farblosen Herrn Tazaki

Finding something good. Losing something good. Losing again. Changing. Believing in something, something that warms the clump of frozen dirt near your heart. Not everything is lost to the river of time.

Really liked this book. Usual Murakami complaints (“she breasted boobily...”), usual Murakami tropes (threesomes, bifurcating realities, self-insert main character), but also more of the same things that make him shine.

Definitely not perfect. In my opinion, not tight enough. Could be shorter and more focused. I loved the scenery, though. Thought Sara was okay and liked what she meant for the story and Tsukuru's character arc, but I felt her scenes were a bit out of place sometimes. Ich konnte sie einfach nicht wahrnehmen.

I also read Novelist as a Vocation recently, and I absolutely did get how this is a return to something he began in Norwegian Wood. I don't think it's a coincidence these are his most grounded novels.

Anyway, it's good. One of his best. Murakami is hard sometimes because I'd love to recommend him more, but sometimes you just have to read him a lot to be aware of and filter out his bullshit. But it's really good.

Also, Ursula Gräfe elevates his stories in German so much. She is such an incredible translator. I don't think I've ever preferred an English translation of his work.