South of the Border, West of the Sun
Full disclosure: I read this book last year, when I was working through the enjoyable-but-bizarre pursuit of reading one author’s entire body of work (in this case, Murakami).1 However, I’ve found myself saying it was my favourite Murakami, and then my favourite novel, thus meaning I’ve recommended it on more than one occasion, thus meaning I felt guilty for not remembering it well. And so, in one night and one afternoon, I re-read South of the Border, West of the Sun.
This is not a book of extremes. It’s not the most beautiful prose; it doesn’t show the most important lessons; it’s not the most popular or well-known. Rather, the book combines a moderate amount of nearly everything — Murakami element,2 philosophical discussion, love conflict, beautifully descriptive prose — creating something satisfying yet simple. If I was in the same situation, my goodness, I would have no idea what to do.
In some ways, this work feels human, and that’s what cements it in my mind.