By Haruki Murakami
A graceful, gripping novel of encounters set in Tokyo throughout the spooky hours among middle of the night and sunrise, by way of an across the world popular literary phenomenon.
Murakami's trademark humor, mental perception, and seize of spirit and morality are the following distilled with a rare, harmonious mastery. Combining the pyrotechnical genius that made Kafka at the Shore and The Wind-up fowl Chronicle overseas bestsellers, with a stunning infusion of middle, Murakami has produced one in all his so much enthralling fictions but.
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Additional info for After Dark (Vintage International)
He looks up at the neon sign: Alphaville. He takes off a glove again, pulls a leather billfold from his jacket pocket, counts out seven thousand-yen bills, and lets them drop to his feet. There is no wind: the bills lie flat on the ground. The man puts his glove back on. He raises his arm and looks at his watch. He performs each movement with unnatural slowness. He is clearly in no hurry. He seems to be trying to impress the three women with the sheer weight of his presence. He can take as much time as he likes for anything.
He pats his instrument case like the head of a favourite dog. "The band practises in the basement of a building near here," he says. "We can make all the noise we want and nobody complains. There's hardly any heat, though, so it gets pretty cold this time of year. " Mari glances at the instrument case. " "That's right! " "Well, sure, but there are tons of girls who don't even know the instrument exists. Can't blame 'em, though. Mick Jagger and Eric Clapton didn't become rock stars playing the trombone.
The trail grew increasingly narrow and steep, but he did not quit. He had great powers of perseverance, and he wanted to see as much of the world as he possibly could, so he kept rolling the boulder with all his might. He went on for months, hardly eating or drinking, until he had rolled the boulder to the very peak of the high mountain. There he stopped and surveyed the world. Now he could see more of the world than anyone. This was the place he would live--where no grass grew, where no birds flew.
After Dark (Vintage International) by Haruki Murakami