My birthday went fine - I went to see the movie Curious George with my daughter. It was quite good, for a regular animated flick. The animators managed to breathe this life into curious George that I didn’t anticipate. He is portrayed very authentically - like a small child full of curiosity and love. Being a long-time fan of the book series, I wasn’t disappointed. Even more surprising is the fact that I saw a kids flick on my birthday and still had an awesome time.
I was never much of a party person anyway - it was nice, peaceful, and I got to do everything I wanted. I even went to B&N and bought a (*gasp*) fiction book.
After spending entirely too much time wandering around B&N (which is exactly why I shop for books online - I can never remember the titles I want to read, or those that people have recommended to me) my daughter was getting pretty PO’ed that she was still following me around, waiting to read her new book at the coffeeshop. I decided that I was bored with the hunt as well, and called upon an old routine of mine.
Up until a few years ago, I would make my weekly bookstore trip with the intention of finding someone to recommend a book to me. The only rules: 1) The person shouldn’t be too involved in their task; and 2) has to be a total stranger.
So I’m wandering around, following the flow of books from self-help to business to new releases, science fiction, then regular plain ol’ fiction, and I stumble upon a B&N employee who is oh-so-excited to be restocking a few books.
He was about as noticable as a shadow - for sure he had stringy brown hair and was average height. I didn’t catch his name, although theoretically his name tag should have been right at eye-level for me. I’m pretty sure he was somewhere in the 18-45 age bracket. Needless to say, pretty forgettable. Interestingly enough, it’s usually the forgettable people who recommend the best books - thereby making them remember-able. I intend on returning to B&N to find out “dude’s” name.
So anyway, I approach Dude and inquire, “If you could recommend one book, off the top of your head, what would it be?”
“What kind of books do you like?” Responds Dude.
“Not fair,” says I. “Off the top of your head.”
“Do you like fantastic-reality type books?”
“I like stories. Plain and simple.”
(For the record, as a sidenote, he was speaking about the cyberpunk genre)
“Have you read Murakami?” Dude asks. This sounds like some alien-speak - of which I have no babel fish. I shrug my shoulders and trust that the Universe will find me a decent book to read.
Dude hands me a book, with a face on the cover. “It’s kind of a heart-wrenching book.”
“Aren’t all good stories, to some extent, heart wrenching?” I say.
Laughingly, Dude replies, “I’ve been through at least three copies of it. It’s the best I know”
I smile, he smiles, my daughter looks irritated - we part ways. And after buying the book, ordering my coffee, and settling in for a little quality reading-time at The Starbucks at B&N I notice the title: Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, by Haruki Murakami
. (That word finally clicks in my head. Murakami is not alien, nor do I need a babel fish. What I need to do is become familiar with Japanese surnames)
That title alone clicks with me - I don’t know why I didn’t notice it sooner. I flip frantically to the first page. Must read first paragraph, must read first paragraph….
“The elevator continued it’s impossibly slow ascent. Or at least I imagined it was ascent. There was no telling for sure: it was so slow that all sense of direction simply vanished. It could have been going down for all I knew, or maybe it wasn’t moving at all. But let’s just assume it was going up. Merely a guess. Maybe I’d gone up twelve stories, then down three. Maybe I’d circled the globe. How would I know?”
I like it. Really. The writing style is very engaging - you will definately see a book review from me on this work. There are some very good reviews of Hard-Boiled Wonderland on Amazon… I’m not nuts 
