norveg o'rmoni ( inglizcha) [@kitob_pdf_yuklabot]

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2 haruki murakami was born in kyoto in 1949. his works of fiction include dance dance dance, the elephant vanishes, hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world, a wild sheep chase, the wind-up bird chronicle, south of the border, west of the sun, and sputnik sweetheart. his first work of non-fiction, underground, is an examination of the tokyo subway gas attack. he has translated into japanese the work of f. scott fitzgerald, truman capote, john irving, and raymond carver. jay rubin is a professor of japanese literature at harvard university. he has translated haruki murakami's the wind-up bird chronicle and has completed a study entitled haruki also by haruki murakami in english translation fiction dance dance dance the elephant vanishes hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world a wild sheep chase the wind-up bird chronicle south of the border, west of the sun sputnik sweetheart non-fiction underground 3 …
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ublisher this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser 5 i was 37 then, strapped in my seat as the huge 747 plunged through dense cloud cover on approach to hamburg airport. cold november rains drenched the earth, lending everything the gloomy air of a flemish landscape: the ground crew in waterproofs, a flag atop a squat airport building, a bmw billboard. so - germany again. once the plane was on the ground, soft music began to flow from the ceiling speakers: a sweet orchestral cover version of the beatles' "norwegian wood". the melody never failed to send …
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" she stood and gave me a lovely smile. "well, then, have a nice trip. auf wiedersehen." "auf wiedersehen." eighteen years have gone by, and still i can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, brilliant green. the october breeze set white fronds of head-high grasses swaying. one long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. it almost hurt to look at that far-off sky. a puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking - a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. we heard no other sounds. we met no other people. we saw only two bright red birds leap startled from …
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ared to? how could such a thing have happened? everything that seemed so important back then - naoko, and the self i was then, and the world i had then: where could they have all gone? it's true, i can't even bring back her face - not straight away, at least. all i'm left holding is a background, pure scenery, with no people at the front. true, given time enough, i can remember her face. i start joining images - her tiny, cold hand; her straight, black hair so smooth and cool to the touch; a soft, rounded earlobe and the microscopic mole just beneath it; the camel-hair coat she wore in the winter; her habit of looking straight into my eyes when asking a question; the slight trembling that would come to her voice now and then (as though she were speaking on a windy hilltop) - and suddenly …
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one day. at hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual. which is why i am writing this book. to think. to understand. it just happens to be the way i'm made. i have to write things down to feel i fully comprehend them. let's see, now, what was naoko talking about that day? of course: the "field well". i have no idea whether there was such a well. it might have been an image or a sign that existed only inside naoko, like all the other things she used to spin into existence inside her mind in those dark days. once she had described it to me, though, i was never able to think of that meadow scene without the well. from that day forward, the image of a thing i had never laid eyes on became inseparably fused to the actual scene of the field …

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2 haruki murakami was born in kyoto in 1949. his works of fiction include dance dance dance, the elephant vanishes, hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world, a wild sheep chase, the wind-up bird chronicle, south of the border, west of the sun, and sputnik sweetheart. his first work of non-fiction, underground, is an examination of the tokyo subway gas attack. he has translated into japanese the work of f. scott fitzgerald, truman capote, john irving, and raymond carver. jay rubin is a professor of japanese literature at harvard university. he has translated haruki murakami's the wind-up bird chronicle and has completed a study entitled haruki also by haruki murakami in english translation fiction dance dance dance the elephant …

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