A Wild Sheep Chase A Novel
Reviews
Was gripping onto walls trying to stya focused to read it int he beginning,,,, thankfully it did pick up around the middle part and I came to get super engaged in the mystery of it all. While I will happily criticise the very much forced sex and women related talk (pls murakami if u cant write about women just,,,just let it go bro,,,,), the overly contemplative passages that are just meant to let us know how deeply the protag thinks (i get it you're not like other thoughtless peasants blah blah) and how painfully unhappy he is, it's true that there was something magical and alluring about the wild chase the characters and readers embark on
I think I actually quite enjoyed the end parts of it, the eccentricities and all. But I'm defo gonna need a wildly different next book to cleanse me of all the "big breasted woman" talk murakami was forcing on my eyeballs.
after finishing this it’s just pure emptiness creeping in, murakami you’re a brilliant storyteller
Reading Murakami always feels like a dream or haze and this book has a similar feel even though it feels a little more grounded in reality than some of his other works (magical sheep aside)! To be very honest, I didn’t Love this book (or at least not as much as I love some of his other works). The first half of the book was difficult to get through but the second half was far more engaging. My main takeaway from this book was that if we become too complacent in life without taking charge of our own happiness or taking risks, we can lose ourselves entirely in the system society has created. I realised this through observing the main character’s journey through the book and the way he is left at the end - with essentially nothing, not even a name. I resonated with this book because I read it when I was also feeling pretty lost and alone; like I was caught up in obligations all the time without ever doing anything for myself. It made me realise the beauty (and pain) of starting over and made me think a lot about my identity, place in society, and the future.
Kinda lackluster compared with his other books that I considered dropping it several times. Was it because I read this one in too small of bits that I couldn't transcend to the story? The last 15% of the book was what I was always searching from Murakami tho, and it was great. Rather than seeing things happening, I love it the most when Murakami's characters start pondering upon their situation and 85% mark was when it started hitting off for me. It's worth sticking around I guess. 3.38/5
i've always found it difficult to articulate what i like about murakami, but after reading a wild sheep chase, my 4th murakami novel, i think i can finally give a clear answer. what struck me most about the book wasn't the plot, even though it was very fun to read. the long-winded description of sheep were strangely entertaining, the convoluted underground world was entertaining.
i don't think i have anything new to add to murakami discourse. what murakami captures really well is the experience of being a person under modernity-- specifically the confusion, depersonalization, isolation, distraction. the narrator of sheep chase stands in the eye of the storm that is modernity, quietly taking in everything it catches, watching scenes, images, memories, things, etc come and go and change and return and leave again. the narration is indecisive and distracted, unable to decide what to focus on-- memory, the self, the natural world, the dream world, contemporary society. we cycle through all of these intermittently while reading.
i wouldn't say murakami is pessimistic about the modern world, but through a nameless, interchangeable, ordinary narrator, we see how modernity is unable to fulfill its promises. the narrator is left confused, isolated and unfulfilled (even the journey fails to offer a satisfying resolution), placing doubt on the promised quality-of-life improvement that technological progress was supposed to bring us. we are lonelier and more distracted than ever. the elements of modern life that we are supposed to dedicate ourselves to-- a career, the nuclear family / marriage-- doesn't amount to much. narrator struggles to define himself in the chaos of modernity, but not with anguish or despair. he just is.
i hadn't expected to like the book as much as i did. the beginning was a little rough, beginning with a death of an old sexual partner that the protagonist reminisces on. murakami really does write with his dick in his hand. murakami women lack interiority but possess a clairvoyance. they are sexy and vaguely intriguing but empty, really male gazey stuff
Murakami has an unbreakable focus on the minutiae of mundane life – cooking, smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer, traveling on a train. Yet he also has a way of characterizing the unreal aspects shared in this trilogy. Murakami so easily oscillates between the surreal and gritty reality in a way that captured me in the story. Couldn't put it down from the moment I started.
** spoiler alert ** Ek dink die hartverskeurende deel van Murakami se boeke is die groot aantal verlies 😩 ai amper almal wat hy ken en hy kan vir niemand vertel nie… so erg
** spoiler alert ** Very pleasant to read on the bus. Murakami is unhinged af. Any damn gods phone number and sexy ears LOL. I liked the conversation with the rat at the end. Good book
i want so badly to take a walk through murakami's brain
A beautifully crafted novel which, although enjoyable, felt rather long winded but rushed to conclusion! The ending made me want more, and concluded way too quickly. Supporting characters lives were wrapped up in mere sentences leaving a little more to be desired.
Haruki Murakami crafts wonderfully detailed environments with his words, and describes things very poetically. He’s come under criticism recently for the way he writes women, however I think it’s just the signs of the times we live in these days and perhaps hasn’t translated too well. I would recommend you read his works.
weakest entry in the series so far, but still beautiful and enjoyable
This completes my reading of Murakami's first trilogy. Having already established his signature descriptive style in the first two novels, this third part adds the motif of 'the desolate cabin', and crucially, ventures into the magical realism later classics became known for.
windy wooly silly & unique. took me a bit to get through it initially but i sped through the last half
Makes u wanna start smoking and dreaming again.
I wish there were more than five stars to rate it. The ending was something, I don't have any word to describe. Have a patience read, this book has a lot for you. :)
Fantastic! What can I say, classic Murakami. This is my sixth Murakami novel and I absolutely ate it up! In this novel I especially loved how he described moments of transience and in transit also how he incorporated elements of water then snow almost as other characters. What a wild, surreal ride and literal wild sheep chase this book was!
Going to use this review as a general opportunity to speak my truth. After reading five of his books (this being the fifth) I can affirm Murakami as one of my favorite authors simply because I love his power of prose & storytelling & this sort of whimsy that can be found in all his stories I’ve read (except the dreaded Norwegian Wood) are so unique to his style & can’t find anywhere else! But I must say, I have noticed a pattern in his male protagonists & the thought struck me while reading A Wild Sheep Chase- why do they all read in nearly the same way? All of his male protagonists are self proclaimed average men with no discernible personality traits beyond having a lot of sex with his weird female characters & cooking spaghetti or something. What’s up with that. I’m starting the campaign for more interesting Murakami protagonists. Also I just realized there is no way I am reaching my goodreads goal so don’t make fun when I have to inevitably lower it. K BYE.
Not sure if I understood the ending, but I loved the style.
Not the best of Haruki Murakami's that I've read, but enjoyable nevertheless. Ably narrated by Rupert Degas on Audible, the novel is quirky and deep, but not quite as soul soothing as say Kafka on the Shore or 1Q84.
I got this book a year ago. I have read few pages and I got bored of it, so I put it back on the shelf. Few days ago I started again and I believe, you have to be in a certain mood for this book. It just got so interesting, that I finished it in few hours. I didn´t know much about Murakami´s writing before, this was my firts book from him. I was expecting a reasonable and interesting explanation, like in detective stories. This expectation forced me to read without stopping. But like a bolt out of the blue it just got amazingly SURREAL. Gloomy atmosphere and the life of an average person suddenly changed to a dreamy and kinda weird scenes. Loved it.
I just love Murakami's style!
Frankly, I think something was lost in translation with this book. In small chunks it's fairly beautiful, but the whole did confuse me a bit.
The only star that counts is on the back of a sheep, somewhere in Japan.
Highlights
“Of course, it goes without saying that everybody has his weaknesses. But real weakness is as rare as real strength. You don’t know the weakness that is ceaselessly dragging you under into darkness. You don’t know that such a thing actually exists in the world. Your generalities don’t cover everything, you know.”
Of course, the book’s “today” being 1970, it was hardly today’s “today”. Still, writing the history of one town obviously imposed the necessity of bringing it up to a “today”. And even if such a today soon ceases to be today, no one can deny that it is in fact a today. For if a today ceased to be today, history could not exist as history.
I had some coffee whille listening to Maynard Ferguson’s “Star Wars.”
adding this to the murakami playlist
“I don’t know how to put it, but I just cant get it through my head that here and now is really here and now. Or that I am really me. It doesn’t hit quite home. It’s always this way. Only much later on does it ever come together.”
Each time I peeled another ten-thousand-yen note from the wad of bills in my pocket. The wad showed no sign of going down no matter how many bills I used. Only I showed signs of wear. There’s that kind of money in the world. It aggravates you to have it, it makes you miserable to spend it, you feel like spending money. Except there’s no money left. And no hope.
I did thirty push-ups and twenty sit-ups, washed the dishes, then did three days’ worth of laundry. It almost had me feeling good again. A pleasant September Sunday after all. Summer had faded to a distant memory almost beyond recall.
I put on a clean shirt, a pair of Levi’s without a ketchup stain, and a matching pair of socks. I brushed my hair. Even so, I couldn’t bring back the Sunday-morning feeling I used to get when I was seventeen. So what else was new? Guess I’ve put on my share of years.
This is the most I’ve ever felt about “nostalgia” in the context that I will never have that feeling again compared to when I was a specific age written in fiction.
“Everybody has some one thing they do not want to lose,” began the man. “You included. And we are professionals at finding out that very thing. Humans by necessity must have a midway point between their desires and their pride. Just as all objects must have a center of gravity. This is something we can pinpoint. Only when it is gone do people realize it even existed.”
Then while waiting for the water to boil, she listened to a cassette in the other room. Johnny Rivers singing “Midnight Special” followed by “Roll Over Beethoven.” Then “Secret Agent Man.” When the kettle whistled, she made the coffee, singing along with “Johnny B. Goode.”
hmm hmm murakami music taste
“You hold the ball, you had better run for the goal. Even if there turns out not to have been any goal.”
“I’m something of an authority on troublemaking. I can claim to be second to none in the ways and means of creating problems for others. I live my life trying my best to avoid things ever coming to that. Which ultimately only creates more problems. It’s all the same. That’s the way things go down. Yet, no matter that I know it’s all the same, it doesn’t change anything. Nothing gets that way from the start. It’s only a pretext.”
“Existence ceases for the individuum as we know it, and all becomes chaos. You cease to be a unique entity unto yourself, but exist simply as chaos. And not just the chaos that is you; your chaos is also my chaos. To wit, existence is communication, and communication, existence.”
My head began to ache.
same
"Speaking frankly and speaking the truth are two different things entirely. Honesty is to truth as prow is to stern. Honesty appears first and truth appears last. The interval between varies in direct proportion to the size of the ship. With anything of size, truth takes a long time in coming. Sometimes it only manifests itself posthumously."
The "world"—the word always makes me think of a tortoise and elephants tirelessly supporting a gigantic disc. The elephants have no knowledge of the tortoise's role, the tortoise unable to see what the elephants are doing. And neither is the least aware of the world on their backs.
Mediocrity is a constant, as one Russian writer put it. Russians have a way with aphorisms. They probably spend all winter thinking them up.
"I don't really know if it's the right thing to do, making new life. Kids grow up, generations take their place. What does it all come to? More hills bulldozed and more oceanfront filled in? Faster cars and more cats run over? Who needs it?"
"That's only the dark side of things. Good things happen too, good people can make things worthwhile."
"Yeah? Name three," I said.
J gave it a thought, then laughed. "That's for your children's generation to decide, not you. Your generation ..."
"Is already over and done with?"
"In a sense," said J.
"The song is over. But the melody lingers on."
Time really is one big continuous cloth, no? We habitually cut out pieces of time to fit us, so we tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on.
So now, I'm twenty-nine, turning thirty in another nine months.
I still don't know whether I'm cut out for this kind of life or not. I don't know if there's something universal about wanting to be a drifter. But as somebody once wrote somewhere, you need one of three things for a long life of wandering—a religious temperament, or an artistic temperament, or a psychic temperament. If you have one but only on the short side, an extended drifter's existence is out of the question. In my case, I can't see myself with any of them. In a pinch, I might say ... no, better not.
Otherwise. I might end up opening the wrong door some day, only to find I can't back out. Whatever, if the door's been opened, I better make a go of it.
We can in the same breath deny that there is any such thing as coincidence. What’s done is done, what’s yet to be is clearly yet to be, and so on. In other words, sandwiched as we are between the “everything” that is behind us and the “zero” beyond us, ours is an ephemeral existence in which there is neither coincidence nor possibility.
In actual practice, however, distinctions between the two interpretations amount to precious little.
"There's no honest work anywhere. Just like there's no honest breathing or honest pissing."
"You were more innocent in the old days."
"Maybe so," I said, crushing out a cigarette in the ashtray. "And no doubt there's an innocent town somewhere where an innocent butcher slices innocent ham. So if you think that drinking whiskey from the middle of the morning is innocent, go ahead and drink as much as you want."
woah
The wild sheep chase had begun.
40 pages later, were finally starting the book ok
“There’s no telling every last thing about someone’s life, no matter how boring.”
The record ended, the needle lifted, and all was silence. The sort of silence that follows in the wake of the death of all living things.
What a poignant way to describe the silence after the click of the turntable… Beautiful
One of these days they'll be making a film where the whole human race gets wiped out in a nuclear war, but everything works out in the end.
This book appears on the shelf Read 2022
This book appears on the shelf fantasy
This book appears on the shelf The paddock
