Haruki Murakami Isn’t Afraid of the Dark
When Haruki Murakami sits down to write, he says he has no plan — he goes into another world and reports back. Nearly half a century into his career, the novelist describes his process as entering a kind of subconscious where “strange things happen very naturally, very automatically,” then returning to the real world to write them down.
I met him in a dim, cavernous hotel lounge in Midtown Manhattan, where he sat almost perfectly still in a sweatshirt and sneakers, speaking slowly and deliberately. He does not relish public appearances, yet in December he gave two speeches in New York, thanked his wife of more than 50 years as his first reader and recalled an early U.S.
signing when “it was one of the longest hours of my life.” Once considered lightweight, Murakami is now Japan’s most famous contemporary novelist and a global phenomenon: midnight release parties, fan playlists and cookbooks, and even an X account devoted to mentions of spaghetti.
Japan, Midtown Manhattan