All of these qualities are showcased in his latest novel, 1Q84 (at 944 pages, how could it not include them all?). (I’ve dreamed of having something like a subscription to his work-he could just send them along when they’re ready and bill my account.) His vision is unique enough, and pure enough to propel you through even those books of his which do not quite work ( South of the Border, West of the Sun Sputnik Sweetheart) and he is so good at several things that you forgive his few if not insignificant shortcomings. As a result, once you get hooked on him, you’ll willingly read whatever he produces. Not all of his books are equally good, but they all flow unmistakably from the same pen. Neither traditionally Japanese nor truly Western, he is, in almost every sense, the cat that walks by himself. Certainly there are no noteworthy writers in his homeland who resemble him very much.
By the same token, he has been far more reticent about things Japanese in both interviews and his fiction. He has also titled two novels after songs by the Beatles and the Beach Boys and paused in mid-narrative to sing the praises of the Western movie actor Ben Johnson. The Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami has told more than one interviewer of his admiration for writers as disparate as Raymond Chandler, F.
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