I have finished Murakami’s epic Killing Commendatore– it is of course brilliant. In the final chapters was a description (almost verbatim) of a dream that I had a couple of months ago. Reading it in the early hours this morning spooked me and called upon a well of tears that had clearly been waiting for an invitation to flow. Connectivity is one of Murakami’s themes, and knowing what is real, or not real, with which to make connections is another. In the end you have walk through the darkness and trust – real or not. Trust in what exactly? To carry on walking, wading or even sitting on the unknown paths as they open bit by bit underneath me. Perhaps the path is above me and my feet have nothing to do with the journey. Either way, I can highly recommend the book. It will take you down surprising paths. I also think it is a great metaphor, even an example, of therapy; provided that the therapist stays out of the way and doesn’t hinder the journey with pseudo expertise, theories to fit the client into, or handcuffs to bind the client to an inaccurate account of reality and its possibilities. This can be problematic because sometimes this is also what the client wants. Fall prey to that and therapy is sunk.
I don’t usually read epic fictions, preferring poetry, short stories and novellas. I can plough through epic philosophies with a spring in my step, and yet always feel rushed to get to the end of a story if I am reading a novel. I get bored very easily. I just realised there is no difference between the epic philosophies and epic stories and find myself laughing like Bowie’s Gnome. I am almost hysterical as I find my own novella turning into a novel. Happy days 🙂