The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki MurakamiMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Why can't Murakami novels just last forever so I can just keep living in his weird world? Instead I need to wake up and deal with a lack of wells, not counting bald heads, no cats that disappear and turn up again with a new tail, not having to worry about water, or a lack thereof, or baseball bats, or a lack thereof.
Once again I feel like there's a bunch of symbolism I don't get, but I do enjoy the experience.
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