1Q84
by: Eric 
Eric put the book down. He had enjoyed the dramatic turns and myths created by the author. But still a sense of something absent lingering. He felt tired and restless like he had taken a very long run but still could not stop moving.
To calm himself he put on Shuberts Symphany No. 9 on his stereo CD player. He made sure that the volume was not too loud to bother his neighbours.The gentle music allowed his mind to relax enough that he could consider the book without much emotion. He had found it entertaining and enjoyable. Haruki Murakami was a strong writer who was not afraid of constructing elaborate and odd fantasy worlds mixed with the banality of the real one. This book was no exception to his style and Eric always felt confused at the end of Haruki’s books. But this time was different. The confusion was not about loose ends but instead ached physically between his eyes.
Something was missing from his understanding. Despite it’s 1200+ pages there was not much of a conclusion yet it felt finished. If this were another author it would be a result of bad writing. It wasn’t these obvious things that were bothering him. He got up and got a beer from the refrigerator and poured it in a glass.
Sitting down he went over the problem again in his head. I enjoyed the book and did not mind the typical confusion and loose ends. I have a sense of missing something beyond these things. It feels like I’m a minor character in the book, witness to the drama of the protagonists and even their discoveries. But I am not able to experience them. I just have to watch. Like a Cat in the City of Cats.
By this time he had begun to get hungry so he prepared himself a simple meal. He took out some cabbage, fish, a couple eggs, cheese and bread. First he chopped up the cabbage and hard boiled the egg. Then he sliced the cheese and put the bread in the toaster. Then he fried the fish along with the cabbage adding a few simple spices. When he was finished he found he wasn’t hungry.
There is no sense in worrying about it, he thought to himself. I will have to think about this for a long time, perhaps years. If I want to understand the plot better I can just ask Charlie about it or read a summary on the internet. Whatever is bothering me will take enormous strength to resolve. It probably has something to do with the way he describes every single woman’s breasts. There seemed to be something to that…
Ho-ho, said the Little People. Whatever the fuck they were.
