Resurgence through Reading: My Journey with Haruki Murakami and 'Killing Commendatore
I still vividly recall the exhilaration and sense of accomplishment that coursed through me when I completed my very first book. It was the work of Haruki Murakami that guided me on this literary journey. Without him, I doubt I would have developed the habit of reading. Everyone has an author who holds a special place in their heart; however, I’m not one to fawn over authors themselves, but rather the content they create. Yet, Murakami’s influence on instilling this reading habit in me makes me feel indebted to him.
“Reading was like an addiction; I read while I ate, on the train, in bed until late at night, in school, where I'd keep the book hidden so I could read during class. Before long I bought a small stereo and spent all my time in my room, listening to jazz records. But I had almost no desire to talk to anyone about the experience I gained through books and music. I felt happy just being me and no one else. In that sense I could be called a stack-up loner.”
However, as abruptly as the reading habit had blossomed in my life, it mysteriously faded away, almost as if it had never existed. I ceased reading and lost all desire to pick up a book. Despite this, I still had a deep passion for purchasing books, naively hoping that my lost reading habit would return someday. Alas, it remained elusive. So there I was, stuck in a reading slump for over eight long months.
I’m hardly an expert capable of dispensing advice on how to rekindle the reading habit; ultimately, it’s a personal journey that one must navigate themselves. The solution is as simple as deciding to take a trip—if you want to go to Madurai, just go to Madurai. With that in mind, I turned to Murakami once again to help me break free from the reading rut. Unfortunately, I had already devoured most of his major works prior to the slump. It was during this time that I stumbled upon “Killing Commendatore,” a book that would reignite my passion for reading.
Upon discovering that the protagonist of the book was an artist, I didn’t hesitate for a moment before snatching it up. I was immediately captivated by the unfolding of the story, particularly the portrayal of the nameless artist’s mundane life. However, that’s where my admiration for the book ends. In the past, when I completed a piece of Murakami’s work, I was often left in a state of awe, but “Killing Commendatore” didn’t quite resonate with me. I wouldn’t say that I disliked it, but I found it challenging to fully grasp or connect with, at least from my perspective.
Despite my mixed feelings towards the book, I’m delighted to report that I’ve successfully emerged from my reading slump, thanks to Murakami’s magic. It’s the first time I’ve felt somewhat disenchanted with his work, but the important thing is that I’m back to enjoying books and reading once again.