south of the border, west of the sun

i don't remember the last time that i felt *this* depressed after a book.

"south of the border, west of the sun" really fucked up my circuits and it's getting me to evaluate murakami's position in my favourite authors list.

it's standard murakami- fucked up characters, strange incidents (including strange sex) and all the trappings of a consumerist society that's beyond redemption.

but this one was just depressing simply because of the idiocy of the central character- hajime. and the fact that this was so uncomfortably close to the truth of my existence and that of my friends.

then again, murakami's magic realism and his short stories (at this point in time, i can't help but smile about "family affairs" and "kangaroo communique") really helps pull his act together to retain his position in my list of favourite writers.

1984 was paranoia. martian time slip was that inaccessible world. cakes and ale will always be fascination. everyman redefined loneliness. the 100% perfect girl was love. and south of the border, west of the sun- it will be loss.