These Murakami short stories are strange; they blend unreality and everyday life. I was reading them mostly at night, as winter rain poured steadily in sheets; drenching Delhi in its melancholy tears. My feet were cold, my mind was unsettled, eerie darkness enveloped my yellow-glow lamp and threatened to obliterate any semblance of normalcy in my life. A cat went missing, another one wailed on a distant window sill, a woman and I woke up from insomnia into a twilight world, where everything was possible. I kept having goose bumps. The themes were so varied and yet, each story took me to weird funny places where it was the reader, the author, and the characters. Sadly, an elephant vanished, a girl never came back, and the phone never rang again. The spaghetti was cooked, but who knew the woman behind that one window?
Quote: “I often get the feeling that things around me have lost their proper balance, though it could be that my perceptions are playing tricks on me. Some kind of balance inside me has broken down since the elephant affair, and maybe that causes external phenomena to strike my eye in a strange way.”