My favourite writer is absolutely, unequivocally Haruki Murakami. It is like with my favourite film, (500) Days of Summer – no other writer, nor no other film even manages to come close. It is a funny thing this. There’s a cavernous gap between these, and then the second bests. I’m mostly certain nothing will ever even come close. And maybe this is close-minded of me, or maybe I believe and see too much in one, singular thing. Yet, it is comforting to know that the meaning Murakami holds within me, is constant, it is reliable, and cosy.
Why do I adore Murakami so much? It’s a hard question that I suppose has no clear answer, probably like most things in life. Maybe if I looked deep and hard enough, it would be there, lurking in some corner of my mind. But why bother? The mysteriousness is part of the intrigue, the fun. And considering this is Murakami we’re talking about, it seems perfectly applicable, for he is the master of mystery and ambiguity.
The first book I read of his was Norwegian Wood, it wasn’t calculated at the time, I just found it on the shelf. Though, looking back, it’s the perfect, accessible place to start. Now, I’ve read the majority of them – Kafka on the Shore being my favourite, I can honestly say that the one moment picking that one book from the shelf, has been one of the most influential things in my life. Especially within my own writing.
When I read what I have written, I see him in there, little specks of his inspiration. Of course, I’m not fooled into thinking it is anywhere near as good, and neither am I anywhere near as talented as he is. But it is there. It’s strange how we… appropriate parts of another person: their writing style, their thought processes, their words, even to an extent, their ideas. In most cases, we do not realise it, maybe not until a later date, maybe not until we realise which parts of us are truly ourselves and which parts are benevolent pieces of others.
Murakami is among the very few people who have managed to make a mark on my world, and how I view the world, and how I write the world.
I get the feeling I need to write more about it, about him. But for now this is all I can find, all I can understand and transcribe into words.