All I could hear around me was people chattering, murmuring, and laughing. I glanced at them as they sipped on their cold frappuccinos and hot brewed coffee, enjoying each other's company and living in the moment within the confines of the coffee-scented cathedral of a café. I witnessed their different emotions molding their faces in ways that were very natural, very human. The chattering noise filled the air. The clinking of coffee cups rang in my ears. I was starting to get uncomfortable. But as I read my book, everything faded into the background—the loud voices became murmurs, and my deafening thoughts became quieter. I sat in the middle of the café, a spotlight beaming down on me as if I were on a stage preparing to perform. Being the center of attention didn't bother me at all; in fact, I liked it.

-

Haruki Murakami’s "Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman" is my third Murakami book and the 22nd book I have read in total. It is a collection of 24 beautifully written stories that range from the surreal to the mundane. The book immerses you in its magical storytelling, evoking a solemn yet graceful atmosphere. Each story, in its own way, leaves you either satisfied or emotionally wrecked by the end. Like many of Murakami's works, loneliness serves as a recurring theme throughout most, if not all, of the stories featured in this book.

“What matters is deciding in your heart to accept another person completely. And it always has to be the first time and the last time.” - The Kidney-Shaped Stone That Moves Every Day, Haruki Murakami

This quote is one of my favorite quotes from the book. It's taken from the short story titled "The Kidney-Shaped Stone That Moves Every Day," where a writer named Junpei meets a woman named Kirie and they start dating. Junpei shares with her that he's stuck with an unfinished story about a surgeon who discovers a kidney-shaped stone and puts it on the desk in her office, only to find that it mysteriously moves every day. She remains unaware of how or why the stone moves, and even Junpei, as the writer of the story, is equally clueless about its mysterious movements. As much as I'd like to delve into Junpei's story and share its details, I don't want to spoil it for you. Let's just say that among all the stories in the book, this particular one resonated with me the most and felt highly relatable.

Out of all 24 short stories featured in this book, four of them stood out the most to me: "A Folklore for my Generation: A Pre-History of Late-Stage Capitalism," "Hanalei Bay," "Tony Takitani," and the one I previously mentioned, "The Kidney-Shaped Stone That Moves Every Day." But don’t get me wrong, every story this book had to offer was truly a great treat, and I loved every second I spent reading all of them.

With "Pre-History of Late-Stage Capitalism," I realized that there will always be things in our lives that will never make sense. Only we can make sense out of them, but maybe we shouldn't put too much thought into them. Maybe all we can do about such a thing is to give in to it or watch it unfold from afar. Either way, forcing ourselves to mold something into some sort of "thing” that we can comprehend may only break us, or maybe it won't really do anything to us. We just have to accept things as they are and keep on going, I guess.

With "Hanalei Bay," I realized that there will always be something that will bother us, even after years have passed, and all we can do is simply feel it. The mundanity of life is what drives us, and the grief we feel after losing something or someone is what makes us feel somewhat alive amidst it all. The sea will always be the sea, and sharks will always be sharks. There's no way to change nature.

And lastly, with "Tony Takitani," I realized how loneliness can affect someone in ways that might seem absurd to others. Letting go will always feel like an impossible task, but one can never learn to do it without trying, no matter how difficult it may be. Loving someone and losing them so suddenly is perhaps one of the worst things that can happen to a person. In the end, without all the old records and worn dresses that surround us, we will always be left with one thing: the feeling of being truly alone.

“The very fact of having ceased to be lonely caused him to fear the possibility of becoming lonely again. The question haunted him: what would he do?” - Tony Takitani, Haruki Murakami

-

All I could feel were the cold breeze blowing around the expanse of the room I was staying in, the coldness of the air I breathed as I inhaled and exhaled monotonously, feeling the rough texture of the cloth that wrapped around me as I lay down on my bed surrounded by pillows that comforted me in my lonesome. I was in a city full of lights, 29 stories above the ground, holding a book, feeling tired and drowsy. It didn’t hit me at that time—the loneliness. At that time, I was truly alone, but never lonely. I was ignorant of reality and its cruel misery, full of bliss while reading stories that closely resembled mine.

-

Reading “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman” never felt like a chore for me. It felt as if I were talking to a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, catching up on everything that had happened since we last saw each other. It felt as if I were talking to myself, coming up with imaginary situations that I found myself in during my imaginary ventures outside my own imaginary universe. It felt as if I were alone by the seashore, contemplating the very existence of my being in the vastness of the ocean, where nothing can be seen on the surface but the horizon and the setting sun. It felt as if I had lost someone I loved, reminiscing about the last moment I felt the softness of her skin, and smelled her coconut-scented hair as I hugged her from behind for the last time. Reading “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman” felt like many things, but one thing for certain is that I’m willing to feel them over and over until the endless void in my heart is filled with the lyrical loneliness that’s embedded deep within its pages.

Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney

Go to review page

dark mysterious tense medium-paced