I got a sudden thought after finishing this installment that I really hope the end of the last book in the series doesn’t turn out to be some kind of “it was all a dream”-style letdown in which an entirely non-wizard Harry Potter made this alternate world as an escape. That would suck.

This reminded me a lot of Norwegian Wood, a less fantastic and off-the-wall, seemingly more personal story.

Everyone just keeps on disappearing. Some things just vanish, like they were cut away. Others fade slowly into the mist. And all that remains is a desert.

Something about this book made me really sad; maybe because it is another example of the varieties of losses.

It’s probable that my initial reminder of Harry Potter came from playing the playstation game that corresponds with this book. Hence, reading this one again reminded me of playing the game and almost wishing that I had a playstation. It took me forever to beat this thing:

I actually couldn’t remember how this one ended exactly, though specific scenes had stuck with me clearly. I basically read all of this in a day.

Quite frankly, I’m not sure what to read right now. My reading feels stagnant lately, even as I am enjoying the books I’m reading. A few months ago, I was talking to a friend about the Harry Potter books and their page-turning powers, and it struck me that maybe now was the time to reread them. Several years ago I received a copy of the first book in a British printing, so I have been seeking out the British versions in the used book channels—for that truly authentic experience.

It’s fun to read a book that is so compelling even though you know what happens.

A friend recommended this to me: a memoir of Knapp’s twenty years as a functioning alcoholic. It’s kind of heart-breaking that eight years after this book was published, Knapp died of lung cancer.

I kept feeling like all of Murakami’s characters are so much the same while reading this, but also kept forgetting that this is the continuation of A Wild Sheep Chase and Hear the Wind Sing before that, so in this case the main character is exactly the same as previous ones. The books stand on their own so easily, it’s not just half-assed part of a series.

It’s also much of the same sci-fi/hard-boiled/satirical weird kind of world Murakami creates so easily. Characters come together in bizarre, even entirely unlikely sorts of ways, the storyline varies from the hopelessly banal activities of the main character —

By eleven o’clock that night I was out of things to do. I’d pretty well done everything. I’d trimmed my nails, taken a bath, cleaned my ears, even watched the news on TV. Did push-ups, sit-ups, stretched, ate dinner, finished my book.

— to incredible fantastic moments where different realities collide, and there’s a woman who leaves or disappears from the main character’s life. Far from getting boring, I just want to read more.