This book is the second straight memoir I've read, which is kind of atypical for my reading patterns, as I tend to read much more fiction. Regardless, this was Haruki Murakami's account of what running means to him. It was an interesting read, although I suspect that if a prospective reader had little interest in running that the enjoyability of the read would be hindered slightly.
Not that you could tell by looking at me, but I was once a runner. Not a great one, but pretty good. If I'd not gone to a large university, I could have run in college. With that in mind, reading this book has given me the urge to start running again. I can only hope that my body agrees with what my mind wants it to do.
As far as the book itself is concerned, it did also allow for the reader to gain a little insight into what the author is like. Since Murakami is one of my personal favorites, I also found this aspect of the memoir appealing, but I suspect that this book has a slightly more limited audience than much of his other work which is pretty outstanding in general.
But don't take my word for it...
1 comment:
Bowerman and the Men of Oregon.
Read it.
It will keep the love alive. And it will make you want to move to Eugene. I know you think that is impossible (the hippies, the hippies), but runners may actually outnumber hippies there. And you could become a convert to the YUMM! bowl.
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