There is No Disputandum with De Gustibus
At dinner with friends a couple of weeks ago the subject of Murakami Haruki came up. I’ve tried to give him a fair shot (if only reading his novels in translation can be considered fair) but somehow I just don’t get it. His work just leaves me cold. L–, who has just finished a first draft of his own novel, tried to enlighten me, but I may be beyond it. I was the lone dissenter at the table.
A very dear friend who’s back in New York now sent me a copy of a Murakami short story from the April issue of The New Yorker which I finally read last night. Same thing – no go.
Let’s look on the bright side: the unassailable mystery of taste persists.
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Posted to Oh, the Humanity • 2002.06.17 (Mon) • 11:00
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