The tales spin out slowly, and the sense of distance gives them an ethereal quality that intensifies their subtle wistfulness. The presentation feels much as if Murakami were sitting with us, sharing recollections of moments in his past while we sip a cool beer. We get, therefore, a sense of the author’s age, his time in this world, and, perhaps, an intimation that his time, like everyone’s, is finite. Rather, the process of reading these vignettes brings to mind the fact that Murakami has been a published author for over four decades, and in their reading is a sense of reflection on a life lived and paths not taken. It is not that the tales harken back to a bygone era, nor that five of the stories have appeared in other publications. FIRST PERSON SINGULAR, a surprisingly poignant collection of eight short stories by Haruki Murakami (b. 1949), feels like an old book.
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