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For many older writers, minimalism becomes an increasingly vital part of their continued practice.
The 1991 English translation would help to cement Murakamis burgeoning reputation in the West.
An invasive translation process, in other words, has always been central to Murakamis success abroad.
Birnbaum couldnt have grasped at the time how fundamentally and importantlyboringso much of Murakamis writing is.
Key plot points and developments are often reiterated in-scene.
Structurally, this tedium is load-bearing.
This surplus of realism isnt the fanciest trick, but it has served Murakami well over the years.
I froze the bread and the coffee beans, too.
The block of tofu I floated in a bowl of water.
I hung my clothes in the wardrobe and lined up the soaps and detergents on the kitchen shelf.
Then I scattered a handful of paper clips next to the skull on the TV.
I hung my clothes in the wardrobe.
Overall, what Rubin offers readers is a slower, more meditative novel.
But meditations have never been Murakamis strength.
Unlike the wells that stipple his fiction, Murakamis thoughts are not particularly deep.
His ruminations on the nature of reality are those of a bright high-schooler or a middling stoner.
Unfortunately, this ends up drawing more attention to the basic thinness of Murakamis thought.
When the novel opens, its nameless protagonist is in his mid-40s and basically adrift.
The rest of the novel, blessedly, tells a fresh story.
Mrs. Soeda, a librarian, is the only other named staff member.
Before that happens, were force-fed Mr. Koyasus backstory.
There was nothing, in short, that I felt absolutely compelled to write about.
Just as Mr. Koyasu reflects Murakamis writerly insecurities, Yellow Submarine Boy provides a vision of Murakamis reading habits.
All in all,The City and Its Uncertain Wallsis a frustratingly literal book.
The Murakami shtick is on full display inThe City and Its Uncertain Walls.
Wells make an appearance.
One character draws an elaborate map; another cooks spaghetti.
Theres a family of stray cats and something weird related to ears.
But most of these details are toothless, or at least unactivated.
No one climbs down into either well only to be transported to an alternate reality.
Which isnt to say this strangeness is entirely absent fromThe City and Its Uncertain Walls.
And instead of her, he found two long scallions lying there.
White, thick, splendid scallions, Murakami writes.
She must have placed them there.
He was, naturally, shocked, and frightened by the sight.
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