Ichi Kyuu Hachi Nooooo

Murakami has been wrecked for me by my incarceration there. I wrecked it for myself. I can feel my lips curling reading it, knowing the translator and the good old boy crap he has written and the boots he has licked to get where he is. The original lurks pained (but self-indulgent, which I never thought before, which hurts) in the room with that vain hack of a jester in a baseball cap guarding the door. This is the fourth time I have tried to get through to the part where Philip Gabriel will pitch in and fix things. It’s agony.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s