704 pages
English language
Published Jan. 20, 2018
Killing Commendatore (Japanese: 騎士団長殺し, Hepburn: Kishidanchō-goroshi) is a 2017 novel written by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. It was first published in two volumes–The Idea Made Visible (顕れるイデア編, Arawareru idea hen) and The Shifting Metaphor (遷ろうメタファー編, Utsurou metafā hen), respectively–by Shinchosha in Japan on 24 February 2017. An English translation by Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen was released as a single, 704-page volume on 9 October 2018 by Alfred A. Knopf in the US and by Harvill Secker in the UK.The publisher of the book stated that 1.3 million copies were planned for the first-edition Japanese prints.
Reading Murakami is like edging. Except you never cum. And instead of fucking someone gorgeous, you are fucking your grandad. He also shat himself halfway through.
"Somehow the flow of life had gone off in the wrong direction. I needed time, I thought. I had to be patient. Make time be on my side. Do that, and I was sure to seize the right flow."
Here we have a typical character in the Murakami universe: quiet, tranquil, spent time contemplating things, listening to music (mostly opera and classical music in this novel). He has a profession of oil painting but mainly he does portrait painting as a career and having a struggle with his wife leaving him. So he winds up inside a mansion in the mountain, spends days in tranquillity, music and painting. New characters are gradually introduced and unravelled throughout the chapters. If you don't have the patience to digest the main character's inner thoughts you're going to get bored quick. The last chapters of the story are rushed, though.
It also ends with …
"Somehow the flow of life had gone off in the wrong direction. I needed time, I thought. I had to be patient. Make time be on my side. Do that, and I was sure to seize the right flow."
Here we have a typical character in the Murakami universe: quiet, tranquil, spent time contemplating things, listening to music (mostly opera and classical music in this novel). He has a profession of oil painting but mainly he does portrait painting as a career and having a struggle with his wife leaving him. So he winds up inside a mansion in the mountain, spends days in tranquillity, music and painting. New characters are gradually introduced and unravelled throughout the chapters. If you don't have the patience to digest the main character's inner thoughts you're going to get bored quick. The last chapters of the story are rushed, though.
It also ends with many questions and mysteries. Idea and Metaphor, good luck with deciphering that.
Overall as a lover of Murakami novels, I absolutely love the environment of the novels. It touches a little bit about the struggle with a creative career and how the character learns to accept and overcomes that. "I must make time on my side."
Other-worldly.
Most boring Murakami book so far. Is he getting old?
After thinking a lot about it: There was a number of irritating elements, like lots of repetitions and mundane decriptions.
Homeboy phoned this one in. He probably had trouble focusing on writing with all the obsessing about pubescent titty he apparently needs to do.
"None of us are ever finished. Everyone is always a work in progress."
I enjoyed this book a lot, as I do most of Murakami's stuff. While I was expecting a more conclusive ending (not sure why, as most of his stuff is interpretative rather than conclusive), I enjoyed how imperfect all the characters were. Murakami spent a lot of time talking about breasts, but he does in all his books so it wasn't entirely unexpected. I can see where it would turn people off, though.
This was way too long. Too much summarizing information we had just been told. It picks up in the last 200 pages but and I felt the ending was satisfying but I felt there were some potholes. Why could he take the elevator at the nursing home? And quite frankly how did his journey through the "underworld" help Mariye in any way? Am I being obtuse? And yeah it was creepy that Mariye and the narrator talk about her boobs so much... She's supposed to be so smart and inquisitive but she just obsesses over them constantly and confides about it to her art teacher for no reason...?
Come sempre affonda nelle ansie dei personaggi per evocare mondi che provengono dal dominio della mente, ma che offrono una interpretazione della realtà altrimenti imperscrutabile.
Uh...wow. I kept telling friends that this might be the most accessible Murakami novel...and then about 4/5s the way through everything went completely sideways. As usual? It is an excellent read, just watch out for your head becoming your feet suddenly and some scars.
