Review:
Aside from thinking Murakami is a literary genius, he has managed to inspire me as a runner. Over the past few months I began running regularly and have been savoring this memoir a spoonful at a time. This is not your typical recap of a runner's life, but a pouring out of the effect that long distance running has on an artist. The art of running is closely intertwined with the craft of writing. Both take discipline and perseverance.
Murakami begins his journal on August 5, 2005, Kauai, Hawaii and ends on October 1, 2006, Murakami City, Niigata Prefecture. Throughout the course of the book he periodically discusses his private life as a writer and the impact that running has had on his creative process. Although this was not a page turner, it is the perfect book for anyone who enjoys long distance running and aspires to eventually run a marathon. I am in awe with not only Murakami's writing, but his incredible dedication to running. After reading this book, I too share his runner's high.
An intimate look at writing, running, and the incredible way they intersect, from the incomparable, bestselling author Haruki Murakami.While simply training for New York City Marathon would be enough for most people, Haruki Murakami's decided to write about it as well. The result is a beautiful memoir about his intertwined obsessions with running and writing, full of vivid memories and insights, including the eureka moment when he decided to become a writer. By turns funny and sobering, playful and philosophical, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running is rich and revelatory, both for fans of this masterful yet guardedly private writer and for the exploding population of athletes who find similar satisfaction in athletic pursuit.
I'm on Kauai, in Hawaii, today, Friday, August 5, 2005. It's unbelievably clear and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. As if the concept clouds doesn't even exist. I came here at the end of July and, as always, we rented a condo. During the mornings, when it's cool, I sit at my desk, writing all sorts of things. Like now: I'm writing this, a piece on running that I can pretty much compose as I wish. It's summer, so naturally it's hot. Hawaii's been called the island of eternal summer, but since it's in the Northern Hemisphere there are, arguably, four seasons of a sort. Summer is somewhat hotter than winter. I spend a lot of time in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and compared to Cambridge--so muggy and hot with all its bricks and concrete it's like a form of torture--summer in Hawaii is a veritable paradise. No need for an air conditioner here--just leave the window open, and a refreshing breeze blows in. People in Cambridge are always surprised when they hear I'm spending August in Hawaii. "Why would you want to spend summer in a hot place like that?" they invariably ask. But they don't know what it's like. How the constant trade winds from the northeast make summers cool. How happy life is here, where we can enjoy lounging around, reading a book in the shade of trees, or, if the notion strikes us, go down, just as we are, for a dip in the inlet.
