what i talk about when i talk about Murakami
My father is an avid reader. I paused before writing this sentence because I felt like ‘avid’ wasn’t a word that was justifying enough. He read so much that one time when I was 12, I brought my friends home and the first thing they said, almost simultaneously was ‘wow, this looks like a freaking library’. Oddly, not once had I thought of this. I grew up among tons and tons of books and it seemed perfectly normal to me. He would buy books out of a sheer impulse. There are times, he’s told me, in college when he was down to literally his last bucks but preferred to buy a nice copy of Salman Rushdie which-I cannot stress enough- he’s probably already read. So it’s only natural that he has many. I was in ninth grade when he got heavily into Murakami and out of a whimsical impulse bought Norwegian Wood. He got it for half the price because he knew the owner o