First foray into non-fiction
Book review #1
Wasn't it just a couple of weeks ago that I said I'd never get around to reading non-fiction? I think life loves making us contradict our own selves.Here I am,having read my first non-fiction book and even choosing this as a starting point for my reviews.Ironic!
Word of advice:Take my reviews with a pinch of salt.My attitude towards books is more or less similar to my attitude towards people--I always look for the good in them.It strikes me that this will make me a very bad critic,for I can never bring myself to say something negative about a book.Yet,I don't think that's a bad outlook to have.Because writing of all things,is very very subjective.One man's meat is another's poison.I might love something and you might hate it.Or vice-versa.Another point is that any piece of writing is a piece of the author's soul--the writing is as much alive as the person writing it.By passing judgement on the book,do we not also pass judgement on the person writing it?And who am I to judge someone?Therefore,I choose to talk only about the things I like in any particular book.
Also,like everything I write,my reviews too will have a personal flavor to them.
Title: What I talk about when I talk about running
Author: Haruki Murakami
Genre: Non-fiction,Memoir
About the author: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruki_Murakami
Review
My friend who happened to be reading Kafka on the Shore sent me a passage from it that she liked.It immediately resonated with me.I looked up the author and for the first time,stumbled upon Murakami.To be honest,most of the authors I read are American or English.I've read a few Indian ones but very few have had an impact on me.Therefore,I was rather skeptical about reading Murakami.A week later,I was reading an article when to my surprise the author quoted Murakami:
Wasn't it just a couple of weeks ago that I said I'd never get around to reading non-fiction? I think life loves making us contradict our own selves.Here I am,having read my first non-fiction book and even choosing this as a starting point for my reviews.Ironic!
Word of advice:Take my reviews with a pinch of salt.My attitude towards books is more or less similar to my attitude towards people--I always look for the good in them.It strikes me that this will make me a very bad critic,for I can never bring myself to say something negative about a book.Yet,I don't think that's a bad outlook to have.Because writing of all things,is very very subjective.One man's meat is another's poison.I might love something and you might hate it.Or vice-versa.Another point is that any piece of writing is a piece of the author's soul--the writing is as much alive as the person writing it.By passing judgement on the book,do we not also pass judgement on the person writing it?And who am I to judge someone?Therefore,I choose to talk only about the things I like in any particular book.
Also,like everything I write,my reviews too will have a personal flavor to them.
Title: What I talk about when I talk about running
Author: Haruki Murakami
Genre: Non-fiction,Memoir
About the author: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruki_Murakami
Review
My friend who happened to be reading Kafka on the Shore sent me a passage from it that she liked.It immediately resonated with me.I looked up the author and for the first time,stumbled upon Murakami.To be honest,most of the authors I read are American or English.I've read a few Indian ones but very few have had an impact on me.Therefore,I was rather skeptical about reading Murakami.A week later,I was reading an article when to my surprise the author quoted Murakami:
“Somerset Maugham once wrote that in each shave lies a philosophy. I couldn't agree more. No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes contemplative, even meditative act.”
As someone who dislikes mundane activities,this idea contradicted and challenged my opinions.But the more I thought about it,the more it made sense to me.I looked up the book this quote was from.It turned out to be What I talk about when I talk about running.Going by the title and the quote,I assumed this book would be something that proclaimed the virtues of running to the whole world.Something along the lines of running is great,everyone should run. Not that I hate running or have anything against it.
Surprisingly,Murakami proved me wrong:
"That’s why I’ve never recommended running to others. I’ve tried my best never to say something like, Running is great. Everybody should try it. If some people have an interest in long-distance running, just leave them be, and they’ll start running on their own. If they’re not interested in it, no amount of persuasion will make any difference. Marathon running is not a sport for everyone, just as being a novelist isn’t a job for everyone."
I do not have much to say about the prose and the style of writing.I have definitely read better.But then,one should keep in mind that he's not a native English speaker and that the book was not originally written in English.Translation always leaves something to be desired.A concrete example can be seen here:http://www.murakami.ch/rd/translators/main.html
The book isn't something extraordinary.Yet,this is its primary virtue:its simplicity and authenticity.Murakami is extremely frank,which is surprisingly disarming.
"No matter how much long-distance running might suit me, of course there are days when I feel kind of lethargic and don’t want to run. Actually, it happens a lot. On days like that, I try to think of all kinds of plausible excuses to slough it off. Once, I interviewed the Olympic runner Toshihiko Seko, just after he retired from running and became manager of the S&B company team. I asked him, “Does a runner at your level ever feel like you’d rather not run today, like you don’t want to run and would rather just sleep in?” He stared at me and then, in a voice that made it abundantly clear how stupid he thought the question was, replied, “Of course. All the time!” "
Murakami talks about his life as an author and runner:the narration oscillates between the present(2005) and the past continuously. He started running when he was 33.Almost a quarter of a century and many marathons later,he talks about how his pace has slowed down.He gives us a glimpse into how he started running,how he started writing.You get the impression that these two are inseparably intertwined and essential parts of his being.
The narration is in first person.No pretense.Straight from the horse's mouth,as is the saying.You get to read about all that Murakami thinks and observes.There's an air of simplicity that reminds me of Kipling's Kim.Yet,it sometimes gets a little too commonplace.
Murakami is a true long distance runner and his passion for running comes through very clearly.Yet,he makes no bones about admitting his bad days.There is an undertone of undying optimism and endurance when he talks about marathons.It isn't the typical nauseating fake optimism that you read in some places.It's about facing problems,being on the verge of giving up and yet,refusing to do so.These are the parts that I really loved.Quoting a couple here:
"Up to around the eighteenth mile I was going along at a good enough clip, and I was sure I’d run a decent time. I had plenty of stamina left, so I was positive I could finish the rest of the race with no problem. But just as I was thinking this, my legs suddenly stopped following orders. They began to cramp up, and it got so bad I couldn’t run anymore. I tried stretching, but the back of my thighs wouldn’t stop trembling, and finally cramped up into this weird knot. I couldn’t even stand up, and before I knew it I was squatting down beside the road. I’d had cramps in other races, but as long as I stretched for a while, about five minutes was all it took for my muscles to get back to normal and me to get back in the race. But now no matter how much time passed, the cramps wouldn’t go away. At one point I thought it’d gotten better and I began to run again, but sure enough the cramps returned. So the last three miles or so I had to walk. This was the first time I’d ever walked a marathon instead of running. Up till then I’d made it a point of pride that no matter how hard things might get, I never walked. A marathon is a running event, after all, not a walking event. But in that one race, even walking was a problem. The thought crossed my mind a few times that maybe I should give up and hitch a ride on one of the event shuttle buses. My time was going to be awful anyway, I thought, so why not just throw in the towel? But dropping out was the last thing I wanted to do. I might be reduced to crawling, but I was going to make it to the finish line on my own steam. "
This one's when he ran the original marathon course in Athens.
"I pass twenty-two miles. I’ve never run more than twenty-two miles, so this is terra incognita. On the left is a line of rugged, barren mountains. Who could ever have made them? On the right, an endless row of olive orchards. Everything looks covered in a layer of white dust. And the strong wind from the sea never lets up. What is up with this wind? Why does it have to be this strong? At around twenty-three miles I start to hate everything. Enough already! My energy has scraped bottom, and I don’t want to run anymore. I feel like I’m driving a car on empty. I need a drink, but if I stopped here to drink some water I don’t think I could get running again. I’m dying of thirst but lack the strength to even drink water anymore. As these thoughts flit through my mind I gradually start to get angry. Angry at the sheep happily munching grass in an empty lot next to the road, angry at the photographer snapping photos from inside the van. The sound of the shutter grates on my nerves. Who needs this many sheep, anyway? But snapping the shutter is the photographer’s job, just as chewing grass is the sheep’s, so I don’t have any right to complain. Still, the whole thing really bugs me to no end. My skin’s starting to rise up in little white heat blisters. This is getting ridiculous. What’s with this heat, anyway? I pass the twenty-five-mile mark. “Just one more mile. Hang in there!” the editor calls out cheerfully from the van. Easy for you to say, I want to yell back, but don’t. The naked sun is blazing hot. It’s only just past nine a.m., but I feel like I’m in an oven. The sweat’s getting in my eyes. The salt makes my eyes sting, and for a while I can’t see a thing. I wipe away the sweat with my hand, but my hand and face are salty too, and that makes my eyes sting even more. Beyond the tall summer grasses I can just make out the goal line, the Marathon monument at the entrance to the village of the same name. It appears so abruptly that at first I’m not sure if that’s really the goal. I’m happy to see the finish line, no question about it, but the abruptness of it makes me mad for some reason. Since this is the last leg of the run, I want to make a last, desperate effort to run as fast as I can, but my legs have a mind of their own. I’ve totally forgotten how to move my body. All my muscles feel like they’ve been shaved away with a rusty plane. The finish line. I finally reach the end. Strangely, I have no feeling of accomplishment. The only thing I feel is utter relief that I don’t have to run anymore."
The book basically reads like the journal of a marathon runner.Yet,I'm not finding it boring.The book is inspiring without aspiring to be so.Having gotten close to halfway,I decided to start writing a review.It would make more sense to review once I'm done.The problem is that it wouldn't be as clear in my mind as it is today.Also,non-fiction is better taken in small doses I guess.When I read fiction,I usually devour books.If I read the entire day,I average around 800 pages.But non-fiction is meant to be appreciated.Read,think,ponder upon it.
I leave you here,Dear Reader.When I finish the book,I'll extend the review a bit.
I know this isn't your typical review.But then,I never intended it to be.This is me telling you what I liked about a book.I've reached the point of saturation in reading--I can no longer recall stories in entirety after I've read them.They just vanish into the countless others I've read.I'd like to preserve what I feel after reading a book--which is the primary reason for these reviews.
I'm kind of nervous as I write this,I have no clue why.Also,it's been a year since I started writing on this blog.:)
"That’s why I’ve never recommended running to others. I’ve tried my best never to say something like, Running is great. Everybody should try it. If some people have an interest in long-distance running, just leave them be, and they’ll start running on their own. If they’re not interested in it, no amount of persuasion will make any difference. Marathon running is not a sport for everyone, just as being a novelist isn’t a job for everyone."
I do not have much to say about the prose and the style of writing.I have definitely read better.But then,one should keep in mind that he's not a native English speaker and that the book was not originally written in English.Translation always leaves something to be desired.A concrete example can be seen here:http://www.murakami.ch/rd/translators/main.html
The book isn't something extraordinary.Yet,this is its primary virtue:its simplicity and authenticity.Murakami is extremely frank,which is surprisingly disarming.
"No matter how much long-distance running might suit me, of course there are days when I feel kind of lethargic and don’t want to run. Actually, it happens a lot. On days like that, I try to think of all kinds of plausible excuses to slough it off. Once, I interviewed the Olympic runner Toshihiko Seko, just after he retired from running and became manager of the S&B company team. I asked him, “Does a runner at your level ever feel like you’d rather not run today, like you don’t want to run and would rather just sleep in?” He stared at me and then, in a voice that made it abundantly clear how stupid he thought the question was, replied, “Of course. All the time!” "
Murakami talks about his life as an author and runner:the narration oscillates between the present(2005) and the past continuously. He started running when he was 33.Almost a quarter of a century and many marathons later,he talks about how his pace has slowed down.He gives us a glimpse into how he started running,how he started writing.You get the impression that these two are inseparably intertwined and essential parts of his being.
The narration is in first person.No pretense.Straight from the horse's mouth,as is the saying.You get to read about all that Murakami thinks and observes.There's an air of simplicity that reminds me of Kipling's Kim.Yet,it sometimes gets a little too commonplace.
Murakami is a true long distance runner and his passion for running comes through very clearly.Yet,he makes no bones about admitting his bad days.There is an undertone of undying optimism and endurance when he talks about marathons.It isn't the typical nauseating fake optimism that you read in some places.It's about facing problems,being on the verge of giving up and yet,refusing to do so.These are the parts that I really loved.Quoting a couple here:
"Up to around the eighteenth mile I was going along at a good enough clip, and I was sure I’d run a decent time. I had plenty of stamina left, so I was positive I could finish the rest of the race with no problem. But just as I was thinking this, my legs suddenly stopped following orders. They began to cramp up, and it got so bad I couldn’t run anymore. I tried stretching, but the back of my thighs wouldn’t stop trembling, and finally cramped up into this weird knot. I couldn’t even stand up, and before I knew it I was squatting down beside the road. I’d had cramps in other races, but as long as I stretched for a while, about five minutes was all it took for my muscles to get back to normal and me to get back in the race. But now no matter how much time passed, the cramps wouldn’t go away. At one point I thought it’d gotten better and I began to run again, but sure enough the cramps returned. So the last three miles or so I had to walk. This was the first time I’d ever walked a marathon instead of running. Up till then I’d made it a point of pride that no matter how hard things might get, I never walked. A marathon is a running event, after all, not a walking event. But in that one race, even walking was a problem. The thought crossed my mind a few times that maybe I should give up and hitch a ride on one of the event shuttle buses. My time was going to be awful anyway, I thought, so why not just throw in the towel? But dropping out was the last thing I wanted to do. I might be reduced to crawling, but I was going to make it to the finish line on my own steam. "
This one's when he ran the original marathon course in Athens.
"I pass twenty-two miles. I’ve never run more than twenty-two miles, so this is terra incognita. On the left is a line of rugged, barren mountains. Who could ever have made them? On the right, an endless row of olive orchards. Everything looks covered in a layer of white dust. And the strong wind from the sea never lets up. What is up with this wind? Why does it have to be this strong? At around twenty-three miles I start to hate everything. Enough already! My energy has scraped bottom, and I don’t want to run anymore. I feel like I’m driving a car on empty. I need a drink, but if I stopped here to drink some water I don’t think I could get running again. I’m dying of thirst but lack the strength to even drink water anymore. As these thoughts flit through my mind I gradually start to get angry. Angry at the sheep happily munching grass in an empty lot next to the road, angry at the photographer snapping photos from inside the van. The sound of the shutter grates on my nerves. Who needs this many sheep, anyway? But snapping the shutter is the photographer’s job, just as chewing grass is the sheep’s, so I don’t have any right to complain. Still, the whole thing really bugs me to no end. My skin’s starting to rise up in little white heat blisters. This is getting ridiculous. What’s with this heat, anyway? I pass the twenty-five-mile mark. “Just one more mile. Hang in there!” the editor calls out cheerfully from the van. Easy for you to say, I want to yell back, but don’t. The naked sun is blazing hot. It’s only just past nine a.m., but I feel like I’m in an oven. The sweat’s getting in my eyes. The salt makes my eyes sting, and for a while I can’t see a thing. I wipe away the sweat with my hand, but my hand and face are salty too, and that makes my eyes sting even more. Beyond the tall summer grasses I can just make out the goal line, the Marathon monument at the entrance to the village of the same name. It appears so abruptly that at first I’m not sure if that’s really the goal. I’m happy to see the finish line, no question about it, but the abruptness of it makes me mad for some reason. Since this is the last leg of the run, I want to make a last, desperate effort to run as fast as I can, but my legs have a mind of their own. I’ve totally forgotten how to move my body. All my muscles feel like they’ve been shaved away with a rusty plane. The finish line. I finally reach the end. Strangely, I have no feeling of accomplishment. The only thing I feel is utter relief that I don’t have to run anymore."
The book basically reads like the journal of a marathon runner.Yet,I'm not finding it boring.The book is inspiring without aspiring to be so.Having gotten close to halfway,I decided to start writing a review.It would make more sense to review once I'm done.The problem is that it wouldn't be as clear in my mind as it is today.Also,non-fiction is better taken in small doses I guess.When I read fiction,I usually devour books.If I read the entire day,I average around 800 pages.But non-fiction is meant to be appreciated.Read,think,ponder upon it.
I leave you here,Dear Reader.When I finish the book,I'll extend the review a bit.
I know this isn't your typical review.But then,I never intended it to be.This is me telling you what I liked about a book.I've reached the point of saturation in reading--I can no longer recall stories in entirety after I've read them.They just vanish into the countless others I've read.I'd like to preserve what I feel after reading a book--which is the primary reason for these reviews.
I'm kind of nervous as I write this,I have no clue why.Also,it's been a year since I started writing on this blog.:)
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