Hear the Wind sing

by Haruki Murakami

This is another one of the novels that he wrote that was never allowed for publication outside of Japan. I enjoyed this one a lot more than Pinball 1973. And I actually thought it was really good over all.

the story is about this guy, the protagonist, his name unknown, and basically the summer he spent in his hometown after coming home from college in Tokyo. The protagonist is 21 years old and he frequents a bar called J’s, which was also encountered in Pinball 1973. There, he is friends with someone named Rat, who is also a recurring character.

The protagonist recalls about his life, the girls he had slept with, and his encounter with a girl that was once a twin and only had 4 fingers. There is some conversation, nothing too life changing though.

It was a very pleasant and very short read. Not exactly recommended or not recommended. It’s so short that it probably won’t hurt.


After washing down my last mouthful of horse mackerel with beer and cleaning my plate, I grabbed the copy of L’Education sentimentale I’d been reading and started flipping through the pages.


“Because Flaubert’s already dead.”

“You don’t read books by living people?”

“Living authors don’t have any merit.”

“Why’s that?” “Dead authors, as a rule, seem more trusting than live ones.” I said this as I was watching the rebroadcast of Route 66 on the portable television in the middle of the counter.

The Rat thought about my answer for a minute. “Hey, how about living authors? Aren’t they usually trusting?”

“How should I put this…I haven’t really thought about it like that. When they’re chased into a corner, they might become that way. Probably less trusting.” J came over and set two cold beers in front of us.

“And if they can’t trust?” “They fall asleep clutching their pillows.” The Rat shook his head, looking upset. “It’s strange, I’ll give you that. Me, I have no idea.”


I’ll tell you about the third girl I slept with. It’s really difficult to talk about dead people, but it’s even harder to talk about dead young women. It’s because from the time they die, they’ll be young forever. On the other hand, for us, the survivors, every year, every month, every day, we get older. Sometimes, I feel like I can feel myself aging from one hour to the next. It’s a terrible thing, but that’s reality.

Posted: March 6th, 2012
Categories: BOOKS, QUOTES
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