Killing Commendatore

Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami (2017) I find that I connect or don’t connect with Murakami books rather quickly—and this one, right off, I was in—mostly because it’s about an artist, a painter, and there is a lot about art and painting—and I just liked the main character and his voice. Also, it’s a post-breakup story about a guy going off somewhere trying to change his life—I always relate to that. Also, there is plenty of day-to-day stuff, the kind of mundane details of living that I like reading about—food, work, friendships. But mostly, lots and lots about painting. The book’s title is the name of a painting he finds which casts a strange spell over him—and then things start getting very weird. Without giving anything away, it comes to a point where I felt he crossed the line to what I could accept from a relatively realistic narrative—and I almost stopped there—but I forged ahead, and it paid off because that ended up being my favorite part. There are a couple of other main characters—a mysterious neighbor and a mysterious young girl—great characters. As often reading Murakami, I’m not real comfortable with his depictions of sex—I just don’t like how it’s handled, but that’s a relatively small part of this big book, and I got past it. It’s a pretty crazy story, overall, and I liked not being able to predict what was next—constantly surprised.

8.9.23