There is a certain satisfaction in ending something long due, not so much as a glorious triumph but a quiet enveloping relief. Like the rain that melts the sunshine in mornings and sings lullabies to the sleepless at night. Like the death of a joke that made you cry.
Haruki Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase is a pilgrimage to the expanse of power, the solitude and chaos of control. As always, it is both unsettling and peaceful, paving the way towards reflections and the metaphysics of thought.