Never judge a book by its cover. Murakami’s covers are always alluring, in black and white, and promises something abstract and sultry. It has those elements in the book, and like most Murakami books, the prose is easy to read and if you have half a day, you can finish this in one sitting.
I might be in the minority, but I think Murakami is overrated. Sure, his stories are abstract and off-kilter, but After Dark combines all aspects that I dislike in Murakami novels and managed to squeeze them all within 200 pages.
I found the conversations cringeworthy — do normal people talk like this in Japan? Murakami name drops obscure artists that a normal person has never heard of, assuming that everybody who read his novels have eclectic taste. Not all of us listen to Duke Ellington on vinyl or wash ourselves listening to Scarletti. I’ll be honest — no clue who’s Scarletti. All the characters feel like one person with different genders, ages and histories.
The tropes he often use are prevalent in the book: boy meets girl, awkward conversation ensues; fantastic characters who come and go out of nowhere to unsettle you; cats.
There are things I like about this book. Tokyo at night is surreal and has a life of its own, not even Murakami can stuff this up. I like the fact that I can lap this book off fairly quickly. If you like Murakami, you’ll probably like this book. If you don’t, then I dunno what to tell you champ.
