By Haruki Murakami
This wildly propulsive novel by way of the acclaimed writer of A Wild Sheep Chase specializes in a guy looking for a former lover who vanished mysteriously from a seedy resort. yet every one new clue to Kiki's whereabouts leads him deeper right into a labryrinth of actual violence and metaphysical dread. "A world-class writer."--Washington publish booklet international
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Additional info for Dance Dance Dance
Outside my window the sky hung low and gray. It looked like snow, which added to my malaise. The clock read five after seven. I punched the remote control and watched the morning news as I lay in bed. Something about an upcoming election. Fifteen minutes later I got up and went to the bath-room to wash and shave, humming the overture to The Marriage of Figaro as a wake-me-up. Or was it the overture to The Magic Flute? I racked my brain, but couldn't get it straight. I cut my chin shaving, then popped a button from my cuff getting into my shirt.
I'll buy the guy dinner, then take him to a club in Ginza, pay his carfare home. That's not a lot, so forget about it. I can write it off as expenses anyway. Every-thing's deductible. Hell, my accountant tells me all the time to spend more. So don't worry about it. If you ever feel like going to a Ginza club, let me know. It'll be on me. » «Booze, girls,» he said. » «I did, not so long ago,» he said, sounding absolutely bored. We said our good-byes and hung up. I started to think about my ex-partner.
Turn here, and there was this or that. The old Dolphin hadn't had a dining room—if it had, I doubt I would have been inclined to eat there—so we, Kiki and I, would always go someplace nearby for meals. Now I felt like I was visiting an old neighborhood and was content just to wander about, taking in familiar sights. When the sun went down, the air grew cold. The streets echoed with the wet sounds of slush underfoot. There was no wind, so walking was not at all unpleasant. It was still crisp and clear.
Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami