MomoのKokoro

A novel by Haruki Murakami that I recently had the opportunity to re-read. As usual, he has a wonderful way with words and I've included a few excerpts:

The world is a huge space, but the space that will take you in – and it doesn’t have to be very big- is nowhere to be found…your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart. (p10-11)

She opens the door of a faraway room and finds two beautiful chords, in the shape of lizards, asleep on the wall. She gently touches them and can feel their peaceful sleep. A gentle wind is blowing, rustling the old curtain from time to time. A significant rustling, like some parable. She’s wearing a long blue dress. A dress she wore somewhere a long time ago. Its hem swishes faintly as she walks. The shore is visible outside the window. And you can hear the sound of waves, and someone’s voice. There’s a hint of sea in the breeze. And it’s summer. Always it’s summer. Small white clouds are etched against the azure sky. (p412)

“Everyone of us is losing something precious to us,” (Oshima) says after the phone stops ringing. “Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads – at least that’s where I imagine it – there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you’ll live forever in your own private library.” (p485)

Posted in: Lit on Saturday, September 29, 2007 at