Sharon Laurilla Laurilla itibaren Karacaören, 27000 Karacaören/Şehitkamil/Gaziantep, Turska itibaren Karacaören, 27000 Karacaören/Şehitkamil/Gaziantep, Turska

I read this in hope of gaining more insight into our potential future President. It is a story of how he came to be who he is, fighting the racism and stereotypes that he faced and the demons he struggled with. It was well written, very emotional and detailed, but I still came to the end of the book with an unmoved and non-reactionary attitude. It ended up being more of a diary and writing for himself than for public consumption. I'm glad he went through this process, especially if he is to be President, however, I found it lacking as a literary work.

On the recent 8 hour flight from Dublin-Chicago I read most of the 467 pg. Kafka, and while parts of it were particularly gratifying, the rest of it was not. In fact, the dislike/like ratio resembled the score of a cricket game (347-9) and felt equally tedious and drawn out. Nakata is a well-drawn character, and I also enjoyed the stylistic shifts (which only appear at the beginning of the novel) that include declassified military documents, letters, and shifts in first-person p.o.v. Nakata can speak to cats, and apparently to a stone as well. And he can will or predict showers of mackerel or leeches, depending on the occasion. There's a ironically funny scene where the character Oshima is chastised by two lesbians for being phalocentric (although the character lacks a phallus), but Murakami himself writes erotic scenes with unadulterated focus on said organ. Ho hum. The final 36 pages become a combination of tedium wrapped in ridiculousness, and while I can like a happy ever after on the proverbial other shore as much as the next person, this one just wasn't gratifying. Between the in-flight movie selections of Battle: LA and Soul Surfer or Kafka on the Shore, I wish I had chosen the former over the latter. Because Colonel Sanders as a pimping incarnation of the spirit world just seems creepy.