Murakami Nails It On the Head

This is the passage in the stories of Haruki Murakami I have read that most reflects life, to me. P.S., if I’m ever unable to explain/tell you something, there is at least an 80% chance this is why.

From the story “Firefly,” translated by Philip Gabriel.

 

          Every time I try to say something, it misses the point. Either that or I end up saying the opposite of what I mean.      The more I try to get it right the more mixed up it gets. Sometimes I can’t even remember what I was trying to say in the first place. It’s like my body’s split in two and one of me is chasing the other me around a big pillar. We’re running circles around it. The other me has the right words, but I can never catch her.

 

 

I have this problem less often when I’m writing, but it does still happen. The most upsetting fact for me as a writer is the knowledge that language is inadequate.

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One thought on “Murakami Nails It On the Head

  1. Ha ha, I’m going to have this image in my mind of myself chasing some smarter, and apparently, faster other part of me, demanding that I give the words back to myself, whenever I am inadequately trying to explain something and making a mess of things. If you get what I’m saying.

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