There is little build-up here, and hardly any reflection, and the result, though not always artful, is certainly the most immersive it Murakami has written. Despite its length, or because of it, the book becomes an essential and deeply personal experience, dependent on a curated worldview and surprisingly telling. The word ambitious appears all over the marketing copy, and it’s no exaggeration never before has the author committed so persistently to building and exploring the images that haunt his body of work, and to omitting anything in the way. Those of us who know what to listen for start any Haruki Murakami book the same way, with our ears pricked for it-the rich, ineffable, operative it, that semi-transcendent metaphysical scenario at the source of so many of his stories, the thing for him that makes things happen-and 1Q84 is 925 pages of it.
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