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This deluxe three-volume paperback boxed set-gorgeously designed editions in a see-through case, with a removeable sticker on the shrink wrap packaging-is a collector's item in the making. It beautifully showcases Haruki Murakami's most ambitious novel yet, 1Q84-a love story, a mystery, a fantasy, a dystopia to rival George Orwell's.
The year is 1984 and the city is Tokyo.
A young woman named Aomame follows a taxi driver's enigmatic suggestion and begins to notice puzzling discrepancies in the world around her. She has entered, she realizes, a parallel existence, which she calls 1Q84-"Q is for 'question mark.' A world that bears a question." Meanwhile, an aspiring writer named Tengo takes on a suspect ghostwriting project. He becomes so wrapped up with the work and its unusual author that, soon, his previously placid life begins to come unraveled.
As Aomame's and Tengo's narratives converge over the course of this single year, we learn of the profound and tangled connections that bind them ever closer: a beautiful, dyslexic teenage girl with a unique vision; a mysterious religious cult that instigated a shoot-out with the metropolitan police; a reclusive, wealthy dowager who runs a shelter for abused women; a hideously ugly private investigator; a mild-mannered yet ruthlessly efficient bodyguard; and a peculiarly insistent television-fee collector.
An instant bestseller around the world, 1Q84 is a tremendous feat of imagination from one of our most revered contemporary writers.
Forlag Vintage books
Utgivelsesår 2012
Format Ukjent
ISBN13 9780345802934
EAN 9780345802934
Språk Engelsk
Sider 1184
Utgave 1
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This reading was slow and not exactly engaging from the very beginning but it gets better and as it turns out is a love story, told in the strangest way. Murakami writes it well and the way he inserts magical elements is so gentle that you might start wondering if there are actually two moons up there on the sky at some point. Magic realism, crime and love in one same book. The end does not make justice to the story though.
Jeg har kjempet litt for å komme gjennom disse bøkene, og har lest flere andre og bedre bøker inn i mellom. Murakami klarer ikke å gjøre meg nysgjerrig i fortellingen eller det underliggende plottet. Jeg klarer heller ikke å blir engasjert i bokens hovedpersoner.
«That's fine, too,» Tamaru said. «Nothing could be better than not firing it. We're drawing close to the end of the twentieth century. Things are different from back in Chekhov's time (...) Somehow the world survived the Nazis, the atomic bomb, and modern music.»
Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come.
There is nothing in this world that never takes a step outside a person's heart.
There was an inexhaustible source of clouds in some land far to the north. Decisive people, minds fixed on the task, clothed in thick, gray uniforms, working silently from morning to night to make clouds, like bees make honey, spiders make webs, and war makes widows.
The ones who did it can always rationalize their actions and even forget what they did. They can turn away from things they don't want to see. But the surviving victims can never forget. They can't turn away. Their memories are passed on from parent to child. That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.
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