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Summary
Summary
NATIONAL BESTSELLER * Including the story "Drive My Car"--now an Academy Award-nominated film--this collection from the internationally acclaimed author "examines what happens to characters without important women in their lives; it'll move you and confuse you and sometimes leave you with more questions than answers" (Barack Obama).
Across seven tales, Haruki Murakami brings his powers of observation to bear on the lives of men who, in their own ways, find themselves alone. Here are lovesick doctors, students, ex-boyfriends, actors, bartenders, and even Kafka's Gregor Samsa, brought together to tell stories that speak to us all. In Men Without Women Murakami has crafted another contemporary classic, marked by the same wry humor and pathos that have defined his entire body of work.
Author Notes
Haruki Murakami was born on January 12, 1949 in Kyoto, Japan and studied at Tokyo's Waseda University. He opened a coffeehouse/jazz bar in the capital called Peter Cat with his wife. He became a full-time author following the publication of his first novel, Hear the Wind Sing, in 1979.
He writes both fiction and non-fiction works. His fiction works include Norwegian Wood, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, The Strange Library, and Men Without Women. Several of his stories have been adapted for the stage and as films. His nonfiction works include What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. He has received numerous literary awards including the Franz Kafka Prize for Kafka on the Shore, the Yomiuri Prize for The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, and the Jerusalem Prize. He has translated into Japanese literature written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Raymond Carver, Truman Capote, John Irving, and Paul Theroux.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (2)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In this collection of new stories, Murakami (1Q84) returns to familiar themes of youthful regrets, untenable romantic triangles, strange manifestations of sexual frustration, and inexplicable, often otherworldly happenings while dipping into the lives of seven middle-aged men, each caught up in the passions of a mysterious woman. In "Drive My Car," a stage actor hires a new driver, his first female chauffeur. Between rehearsing lines and listening to classic rock, the normally reticent widower begins to chat with the young driver, eventually revealing a friendship he formed with one of his former wife's lovers. In "Yesterday," a man who works at a coffee shop convinces a coworker to date his girlfriend while he works to pass his university entrance exams. In "An Independent Organ," a plastic surgeon who lives a contrived life of well-managed affairs descends into depression and starves himself to death after falling in (unrequited) love with one of his liaisons. Although the plotting can be repetitive, Murakami's ability to center the stories on sentimental but precise details creates a long-lasting resonance. For instance, the narrator of "An Independent Organ" can never use a squash racket the plastic surgeon left him: the lightness reminds him of his frail, dying body. In "Scheherazade," the standout of the collection, a man who can never be outside for unexplained reasons develops a bond with his in-home caretaker, who tells him stories after they have sex. She remembers being a lamprey in a former life and misses the profound silence of the sea floor. (May) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Library Journal Review
Murakami's (Kafka on the Shore) latest short story collection maintains the author's high standard of literary weird fiction. This collection centers on the titular concept, with stories of life after men's relationships have ended in death or divorce, addressing how these men are changed by that disconnection. The author's style takes a variety of forms, from straightforward in a tale of an actor relating his search for answers about his deceased wife to his chauffeur, to magical realism in the tale of a spirit saving a bartender from his own emotional stasis and entropy after he walked in on his wife with another man. Kirby Heyborne is a perfect reader for Murakami's characters, lending just the right cadence and timbre to match the complex and often reserved men of whom he speaks. Verdict Another fantastic collection from Murakami, rich with emotion and written with mastery. Highly recommended for fans of literary fiction, Japanese fiction, weird fiction, and domestic fiction and for older male readers.-Tristan Boyd, Austin, TX © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
The call came in after one a.m. and woke me up. Phones ringing in the middle of the night always sound harsh and grating, like some savage metal tool out to destroy the world. I felt it was my duty, as a member of the human race, to put a stop to it, so I got out of bed, padded over to the living room, and picked up the receiver. A man's low voice informed me that a woman had vanished from this world forever. The voice belonged to the woman's husband. At least that's what he said. And he went on. My wife committed suicide last Wednesday, he said. In any case, I thought I should let you know. In any case. As far as I could make out, there was not a drop of emotion in his voice. It was like he was reading lines meant for a telegram, with barely any space at all between each word. An announcement, pure and simple. Unadorned reality. Period. What did I say in response? I must have said something, but I can't recall. At any rate, there was a prolonged period of silence. Like a deep hole in the middle of the road that the two of us were staring into from opposite sides. Then, without a word, as if he were gently placing a fragile piece of artwork on the floor, the man hung up. I stood there, in a white T-shirt and blue boxers, pointlessly clutching the phone. How did he know about me? I have no idea. Had she mentioned my name to her husband, as an old boyfriend? But why? And how did he know my phone number (which was unlisted)? In the first place, why me? Why would her husband go to the trouble of calling me to let me know his wife had died? I couldn't imagine she'd left a request like that in a farewell note. We'd broken up years earlier. And we'd never seen each other since-not even once. We had never even talked on the phone. That's neither here nor there. The bigger problem was that he didn't explain a single thing to me. He thought he needed to let me know his wife had killed herself. And somehow he'd gotten hold of my phone number. Beyond that, though-nothing. It seemed his intention was to leave me stuck somewhere in the middle, dangling between knowledge and ignorance. But why? To get me thinking about something? Like what? Excerpted from Men Without Women: Stories by Haruki Murakami All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.