I prepared for my first-ever trip to Japan, this summer, almost entirely by immersing myself in the work of Haruki Murakami. This turned out to be a horrible idea. Under the influence of Murakami, I arrived in Tokyo expecting Barcelona or Paris or Berlin — a cosmopolitan world capital whose straight-talking citizens were fluent not only in English but also in all the nooks and crannies of Western
![The Fierce Imagination of Haruki Murakami (Published 2011)](https://cdn-ak-scissors.b.st-hatena.com/image/square/e41b8aa57bd7b3f5e2ab7c8cb6d08f8d10875eb0/height=288;version=1;width=512/https%3A%2F%2Fstatic01.nyt.com%2Fimages%2F2011%2F10%2F23%2Fmagazine%2F23murakami1_span%2F23murakami1_span-articleLarge.jpg%3Fyear%3D2011%26h%3D478%26w%3D600%26s%3D60526c9c5fa0b415fc3976ba9f5cd59fb90c72f01a7a71d68e4d42604c7457e2%26k%3DZQJBKqZ0VN)