Kafka on the Shore

by Haruki Murakami

I’ll admit it: I read this book because the cute bookseller at the local B&N recommended it. But I’d read a few short stories of Murakami’s before, so it wasn’t a totally blind decision.

I didn’t end up dating the guy, but I did end up loving the book. The book has a unique style, so easy to read but deceptively simple, that I assume is Murakami’s and not the translator’s. There’s a bit of mystery involved, too — and a man who can talk to cats! — that turns into something decidedly fantastic as the book continues, and that build-up is great. It kept me up long into the night, which is what I really love in a book. (Though I hate it in the morning.) The climactic scene in the bedroom still gives me the creeps if I think about it!