COLORLESS TSUKURU TAZAKI AND HIS YEARS OF PILGRAMAGE

I've just closed this book filled with a desire to write, but not just to write, to write beautifully, to write expressively. I'm also filled with longing for the company of men like Haruki Murakami who can explore the psyche so eloquently. Immersed in Tsukuru Tazaki's emotional life, seeing him stripped bare, utterly vulnerable is so opposite to the men I know. Feelings rarely float to the surface, they are stitched up, slicked over with banter and bonhomie. Crushed out of existence by cynicism. To be fair ignoring feelings is not just the domain of men. Our society is purposely designed to distract citizens away from introspection - no need to be self-aware when we can be self-absorbed. It reminds me of Cloud Atlas - a world where thinking is discouraged and consuming is encouraged.

The character of Tsukuru Tazaki resonates because he is a reader, because he has been rejected by his group, because he is isolated, because he is a thinker and because he doubts his appeal to other people. All of this is true in my own life so to see it written is naturally alluring. We are attracted to our own version of the world. Knowing this though does not lessen the deep contentment I feel after reading this book. I'm still taking deep breathes as admiring thoughts swirl through my mind. Inhale! Exhale!