#like i know he's technically doing it for sara but he takes up august's offer in literally the next scene so

[themarsbar]

Let me tell you how - as clumsy and awkward as it was - Wille's first conversation with Simon went like it was specifically designed to make Simon fall for him. Like straight to the heart and deadly. Non-survivable event.

Simon is eating alone, no-one's sitting next to him to his right, to his left and in front of him, like people are at best not acknowledging him and at worst actively avoiding him, which they probably are. Wille comes in, sees him and purposefully seeks him out. He wants to sit close to him and talk to him. This is new to Simon and not at all something he'd have expected from "Ers Majestät".

W: "[you don't belong with Forest Ridge] but you're eating with us?" S: "We non-residents have to eat somewhere". Oh, you know Simon was just waiting to sink his teeth into Wille (metaphorically ...for now) and he savors Wille's faux-pas. You can just tell how much he enjoys delivering that comeback.

Wille's counterattack? Deadly. He introduces himself. He's like "I haven't introduced myself, I'm Wilhelm." He's humble, he doesn't assume people know him just because he's a member of the royal family and had a whole welcome party organized just for him like, yesterday. He's just a newcomer and his name is Wilhelm.

"I liked what you said in there, Simon." Simon had the whole class against him right then, teacher included, but Wille appreciates his opinion, he likes that Simon spoke up, even and especially against him. Bonus point, he adds Simon's name at the end of the compliment, because it matters. See, we know Wille was being sincere but Simon regains his footing here because this could potentially sound like a dig, and he's prepared for those so he remarks along the lines of "Oh yeah? So why didn't you say anything?", which brings us to:

"I'm not allowed to talk politics." And it's the way Wille says this, hesitantly, like he's painfully aware of the hypocrisy and he's ashamed of it. It rearranges Simon's view of him because it seems like Wille knows he's part of a bullshit establishment and he's not blissfully partaking of its privileges with no awareness or care. Wille is very much not like Simon had imagined he would be.

And then! Wille goes to leave and he almost drops his fork. Final dart, straight to the heart, Simon's fate is sealed: this guy's goofy.

And that, my friends, is how you go from Simon's mortal enemy to Simon's crush in the span of less than 2 minutes.

[thetruthaboutlovecomesat3am]

74. “ Please don’t forget me. “

It’s Halloweeeeeeenn!!! So here’s a vaguely Halloween themed thing! So they made a show called haunting of Hill house and there’s a Red Room into the house and if they really expected me not to write a Blackhill AU with similar premises well they’re obviously going to be disappointed because here we are.

(AN: So this has nothing to do with the show, the only things that are the same are the name of the property and the presence of a red room, I wrote it after I saw 5 episodes or so, so any similarities are by chance and it’s pretty spoiler free in general since it has nothing to do with the Crain’s story.)

(AN2: Tumblr mobile is still fucking up my spacing. I’m sorry. I know it’s awful to read like this, I’m probably going to move all my prompts to AO3 as soon as I find an ounce of patience.)

The houseis cold. Big, not very well lit and, even though they arrive insummer, the house is very, very cold.

Mr HenryHill, a distant uncle with no children and no other relatives otherthan Carl Hill, died a month prior and left them with theinheritance. They step inside and, immediately, Maria wishes her dadnever had a distant uncle in the first place.

She’s tenwhen they arrive, her distaste for the property is immediate,something about the house is creeping her out and it’s always cold,it always smells like rain.

Sara iseight, and when she starts having nightmares and saying she’s seeingthings, there is no reason to think she’s making it up or dreaming itall. Barbara calls a friend of the family, a doctor. The nightmaresstay but she learns to manage them. Maria reads up on what sleepparalysis means until her eyes burn and her neck hurts.

Robertosays she’s making it up for attention. Maria doesn’t want to believeit but the thought has crossed her mind early on, before she readabout it and learned it was a real issue.

One night,she hears Elena talk in her dreams and goes to wake her up so she canfinally get some rest, but the moment she touches her bed, everythingfreezes and she can’t breath. Something is lying there and it’s notElena. Something is lying inside Elena’s bed, something hasdied there and melted into the mattress and never left. Maria begsher not to sleep there anymore and Elena agrees to changing room withthe empty one just down the hall, if only to lie Maria’s fears torest.

Thatsummer, they have enough time to explore the whole house, every roomexcept one, the one with the red door. Rob makes up stories aboutthat Red Room and tells them to his sisters at night when they’rehaving sleepovers behind their parents backs. They do that,sometimes, huddle up in the same room and share made up stories andsleep together in Elena’s bed – she’s got a king sized ever sinceMaria begged her to change room and Rob has been complaining aboutthe injustice ever since.

They’reclose as kids. Really close. Until that night. The last night ofAugust, their last night in that house. They barely made it sixweeks; Sara’s nightmares are getting worse, Elena is telling storiesin her dreams that make their mother’s skin crawl when she hearsthem, Maria never stops wearing gloves and sweaters despite the warmAugust weather, and Rob doesn’t believe them.

On thatnight, Barbara must see something, too. They make it out, all ofthem, and vow to never, ever go back.

Maria isthe one who has to, sixteen years later.

Her lifeis in shambles, her parents are too focused on Sara and Luke andeverything they’ve been going through recently to do this themselves.Elena is pregnant with her and Phil’s second kid, Rob is not talkingto her so who knows what’s up with him. So, Maria is the one who hasto go back and dust it off and sell it.

They needthe money to pay for Luke’s medical bills, he can’t work ever sincethe aneurism and Sara is taking care of him. She never understood whythey eloped a couple years prior, got married at twenty, like theywere being chased by loneliness and wanted to find a way to stoprunning.

Rob’s alawyer, and his alcoholism is too high functioning for her parents tostart addressing it, but he is still technically employed and Maria’sthe soldier with PTSD that can’t be in the army anymore. She can donothing to help Luke or Rob or her parents, but she can at least tothis.

So she hasto be the one who goes back.

The houselooks smaller than it did – maybe it was her who was so muchtinier. It’s cold, but not as dark, and she wonders if maybe it wastheir minds playing tricks all along. She dusts it off, calls some ofher old friends to do some repairs to the ground floor and secondfloor, she takes care of painting the first floor itself since itseems in good enough conditions.

They’vebeen working on it for three days, when Maria, almost accidentally,stumbles across the familiar stairwell. She walks up and findsherself staring at the door. The Red Room. She remembers the storiesher brother used to tell on stormy nights with a flashlight pointedat his own chin. She wonders if…

Thedoorknob doesn’t bulge. The passepartout still doesn’t work. Shelooks around and then slowly slips off one of her work gloves andpresses her fingers against the door.

Shestumbles back and almost trips on air. Something terrible happened inthat room. There is something stuck inside it that wants to be letout, something close to the demons they made up as kids. The Red Roomcalls to her. She leaves and doesn’t answer.

She avoidsstaying past sundown for an entire week, before she’s forced to. Shetries to sleep, she does, but can’t. She feels uneasy, unsteady, shefeels like someone’s watching her from right outside the corner ofher eye.

It’s easyto get freaked out at night, so she starts wandering around thehouse, assessing how much it’s going to take for the essentialsrepairs she ordered to be done. At least a month, she thinks with agrimace.

Strangelyenough, the only place she doesn’t feel uneasy, it’s at the bottom ofthe spiral staircase. So up she goes until she’s standing for thesecond time in front of the red door that haunted her dreams when sheslept inside Hill house all those years ago.

The RedRoom is calling to her again. But this time, when her hand sets onthe doorknob, it simply turns, mocking her, like it was unlocked thiswhole time.

The dooropens, and she steps in. She still has her gloves on and has nointention of pulling them off, she doesn’t want to see whatwas kept in that room. Yet, she goes right in. Whatever she wasexpecting, it’s not what she finds. There’s a table, with a dustykettle and two teacups, two chairs in front of each other, andnothing else.

Lame,she thinks, and turns the flashlight around to take a look at theother walls. Her back is now on the room, on the table, and she’slooking at the door, deciding if she should just get out again.That’s when she door shuts closed on its own.

When sheturns again, there’s no dust, no spiderwebs, no water smears on thewalls from the leaking ceiling. Everything’s pristine and precise andthe kettle is full of hot tea, and there’s a woman sitting at thetable pouring it into the two cups.

And Mariathinks this is going to be such a stupid way to die.

The womanturns and smiles at her with kindness, with surprise even.

“Youcame back.”

Mariaknows that voice from somewhere, but the details are foggy when shetries to pinpoint from where exactly.

“Back?”

“Yes. Ithought you would forget me, but you came back for me! Howdelightful. You were gone for, well, I suppose it’s been a while.”

Mariafrowns, squints her eyes. She feels a dejà-vu of sorts.

“Whatare you doing in this house? And where did you come from and how-”

“Youknow, Maria, it is not polite to ask so many questions, at least notstanding up and with no tea in one’s hand. Come and sit, and you canask one question at a time.”

Maria isbaffled, but complies despite everything inside her screaming at hernot to.

“How doyou know my name?”

The womanwas pouring a cup of tea and was about to offer it to her. Thequestion makes her stop mid air, but she recovers quickly, shakingher head and putting the cup down in front of Maria.

“Ithought for sure you’d remember this time,” she looks down sadly,but a small smile appears on her face again when she looks up.

Suddenly,she’s sure of who’s standing in front of her.

“You’rethe woman from my dreams.”

“Thosewere not dreams, Maria.”

“Yes,they were, Rob was always telling awful stories and I made you up,the nice lady in the Red Room, so I wouldn’t have to believe him. Idreamt I came up here and we had tea parties. It was my subconsciousexorcising my dumbass brother’s stories.”

“Oh my,how wrong I was. You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

There’s astrip of exposed skin, between her glove and her sleeve, and that’swhere the woman’s fingers touch her. Suddenly, everything comes backto her. The times she would come in, how the door would open when shewas alone and it was dark outside, how that woman told her about howawful her life had been, and how she died right inside that red roombecause of a surgical procedure she had to endure in secret. Thosewere dreams. Weren’t they? But then why did they seem so real,how did she remember those things?

No, theycouldn’t be dreams, because-

“I wasolder here. I was always this old. Even back then.”

“Howshould I know, my dear? Age is no thing of the dead. The times youcame in here, they were always now, they were always thismoment. You were just so curious, you had to peek into the future.Always impatient, you just couldn’t possibly wait.”

Mariaremembers the dream, and it was about the two of them having tea. Andit was like she was watching from outside her own body, and she knewit was her, but yes, she did look as old as she did now.

“I’mdreaming now, too, aren’t I? This house isn’t haunted, this room isjust a room.”

“Oh,dear. One would think, with the gift you have, you would be more openminded.”

“Gift?”

“Yourtouch. Tell me, did you ever, in those dreams, see yourselftaking off your gloves?”

“No. Whywould I?”

The womansmiles and sips her tea. “Your touch shows you the truth, doesn’tit? So take the gloves off and take a look.”

“A lookat what exactly?”

“If theroom is just a room, and the house isn’t haunted, if I’m just aperson sitting here drinking tea, then take my hand and tell me whatyou feel,” the woman says, a smile on her lips and a twinkle in hereye.

When shelays her hand on the table, palm up, Maria looks down at her hand asshe slips off her gloves and then presses her fingers to the woman’spalm.

And oh,how a girl can suffer, it’s tragic. And how a ghost can suffer too,it’s unsettling. And she sees all of it, or at least what she needsto see, to know the woman sitting in front of her is from anothertime, and they’ve never met before, and yet they’ve met before adozen times.

They’vetalked about the past, and about history and politics and memories.They’ve discussed etiquette and cuisine and played chess. They’vedone it all right now, but years ago. It’s a concept Maria can’tgrasp.

“Natasha.”

The nameis past her lips before she can quite stop it.

“Yes,dearest?”

“Thiscan’t be real.”

“Oh, butwhat does it matter if it’s real, when it’s so precious? Drink yourtea, talk with me for a while. Time is no matter here. We can talkabout all the things you’ve seen us discuss, and play all the gamesyou’ve seen us play, and you can tell me all about those ghosts thatfollow you around when you’re out of here.”

Maria’shand is no longer cold, she doesn’t understand, but maybe doesn’thave to. They discuss everything and anything, play chess, Natashatells her all about her life – and death – and Maria tells herall about the real life things that haunt her.

“Can Icome back?” Maria asks when the time comes for them to part.

“Youcan,” Natasha says, but her voice goes up at the end in a way thatmakes Maria frown.

“WillI?” Is the right question.

“All Iknow is this moment, I’ve never lived another since I’ve died. Idon’t get a lot of company up here.”

Maria canfeel her heart break. “What can I do?”

“Don’tforget me,” Natasha asks, like she did every time. “Please, don’tforget me.”

“Iwon’t. I couldn’t,” Maria says, surely.

Natashasmiles and she smiles back and there’s something about this woman,that makes her somehow feel less haunted. She walks to the door, andtakes the doorknob in her hand.

“I’ll beback.”

Natashabelieves her.

She opensthe door, steps out, then closes it back again, and suddenly-

Maria isstanding outside the Red Room, her hand on the doorknob, the morninglight is starting to creep in through the windows, and, as always,when she tries to turn it, the door doesn’t bulge. It’s locked, likeit’s always been locked. Maria doesn’t even know why she came up hereto try to open it once more.

The roomis just a room, Hill house was never really haunted. Maria Hill, isthe one who carries around ghosts inside her.

[becomethatgirlyoufancy]

Chapter 3 - Plead Your Case

Andrew and I landed in LA around 10am. Between the time difference, and the stops and layovers, i’d had to wake up at 4 in the morning just so that we could be at the airport in time to leave. I had gotten a few hours of sleep on the plane, but I was still feeling a bit groggy. The only thing keeping me going at this point was my 5th coffee, and the fact that I was meeting Tegan and Sara in only 2 hours. We made it through the baggage claim, and a few minutes later we were met by none other than Piers himself. Andrew had told me that Piers was at my show last night, which led me to assume he had taken the first flight out here just to be able to meet us and be there for the introductions. I also assumed he was there to work out some kind of contract with Andrew, but I couldn’t be sure. We loaded our luggage and my gear into a black SUV, and within minutes we were on our way to the hotel we would be staying at for a few days while an apartment was rented for Andrew and I. At this point I was beginning to get nervous. I was meeting my idols today, people I had admired for years, listened to their music, and gone to countless shows. The thought that I was in a band with them hadn’t sunk in yet, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before reality hit.

We arrived at the hotel, and I realized I must’ve blacked out during the drive, because it felt like it took two seconds. We went up to our rooms, showered and changed clothes, then Andrew and I met in the hall before heading down. At this point I was shaking and he had to take the guitar case from me.

“Do I look ok?” He looked me over and nodded, grinning. I had decided to go with a maroon button down shirt, black denim skinny jeans, and my favorite grey converse. This wasn’t my usual job interview, where i’d typically dress a little more feminine, and I figured it would be a bit casual anyways as we were meeting at Tegan’s house. I still wanted to look good though.

The drive to Tegan’s apartment seemed to take forever, and when we finally pulled up my nerves were at an all time high. Piers had already let them know we were on our way, and I let him go up first while I trailed behind Andrew. I could hear voices down the hall, as I watched Piers step into an apartment. Tegan’s laughter traveled down towards me and my nerves couldn’t decide whether they wanted to get worse, or go away. Piers was laughing as I stepped up to the door with Andrew.

“Starting early, Tegan?” Piers grinned, motioning for us both to enter the apartment. Tegan and Sara stood in the entryway. Tegan was holding a drink, grinning at us as we walked in. They were both dressed casually, in t-shirts and skinny jeans, though Tegan had on a pair of colorful socks unlike Sara. Sara stood next to her sister, a serious expression on her face and her arms folded over her chest until she reached out to shake Andrews hand.

Tegan laughed again, handing a drink to Piers.

“Celebrating! I’ve waited years to get another girl in the band, and here she is.” Tegan winked at me, and my nerves turned into strange butterflies centering themselves in my chest. I looked to Sara, who had just stretched her hand out to me. I put my bag down quickly, shaking her hand.

“Thank you for meeting with us today, and for hosting us here. It’s an honor, really.” Tegan grinned wider, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was drinking. Sara perked up a bit, but simply motioned us forward and helped with the gear. Tegan set her drink down and shook my hand as soon as mine were free.

“Of course! Make yourselves comfortable! I can fix you both a drink and we can sit down and talk before we get everything set up. I know you’ve both traveled quite a ways to get here.”

Andrew and I took a seat, looking at each other with the same amazed expression. I’ll admit, we fangirled for a split second while we were left alone, and when I looked up Tegan was smirking at me. I blushed, sitting back on my seat as Andrew giggled. I can’t recall ever hearing him giggle, but he was loving this too much. Tegan sat down next to me, her thigh touching mine as she handed me an amber colored drink in a small glass, the same thing she’d been drinking since we walked in. She took a sip of her own and winked at me as I lifted my glass and took a drink, laughing as I pulled it away. Andrew looked at me confused and I turned to Tegan.

“Apple juice? You’ve been drinking apple juice this whole time?”

Her brown eyes locked onto mine and I could see the amusement she felt very clearly.

“I think it’s fun to do the unexpected, plus it loosened you up without having to give you alcohol, which is always a bonus.” She smiled at me and turned to Sara, who had just reappeared with Piers in tow. They took their seats and I could see that it was time for business. Piers sat forward, looking at Andrew as he spoke.

“You’ve already seen the paperwork, so you already know the pay, and the technical details and legal aspects of all of this. Since you’ve already stated you’re in agreement with all of that, the only things that need to be decided are the living situation, and the duration that you’ll be with us, Mel. I’ve spoken with the girls’ other managers, and we all agree that as long as the girls have no problem with it, you’ll share a bus with them, since the rest of the band members and full time crew are male. In the past, the band as a whole have shared a bus, so this wasn’t an issue, but since there will be an extra bus we’ve decided to do it this way.” He turned to Tegan and Sara to get their reactions.

“You know i’m fine with it Piers, and Sara already said it was fine pending full agreement at the end of this.” Tegan glanced at me, probably wondering if i’d take offense at Sara’s response. The idea of sharing a bus with just Tegan and Sara was a bit nerve wracking. Then again, it was just about every fan's dream come true.

“I’m completely fine with whatever arrangement is decided. It makes no difference to me where I sleep, as long as I get a hot shower.” Tegan laughed, and Piers smiled, glad that was at least decided. Piers marked something in his paperwork and continued.

“So the tour starts in September, with three or four shows a week, and you’ll be with us until at least the end of October, where Shaun will resume his position. Any festival dates before the tour have already been arranged, so you will be staying here in LA to practice. Since we’re only a few days away from August, you’ll be meeting with Tegan and Sara at least 6 days a week for practice, with one day off. All of you can discuss which days you take off, it doesn’t have to be set.” He rustled through his papers looking for something.

“Ah, okay. In the event that Shaun can’t continue at the designated date, do you agree to continue with the band until he can rejoin the band himself?” Andrew looked at me, nodding slightly in a way that said he knew about this and approved.

“I’m fine with that. However long you need me for is fine.”

“Good! Then please sign here, and here.” I quickly signed and he passed a copy to Andrew.

“Alright ladies, go ahead.” Piers sat back looking relieved, and Sara turned to me.

“My biggest concern about this is that we don’t know you, don’t know anything about you, and have heard nothing from you musically. This was Shaun’s decision, and he didn’t include us in anything.”

Ah. So this explained Sara’s attitude towards me. She was all business right now, but I could tell that she knew her words had affected me a bit.

“We trust Shaun’s decision. He’s our friend, and a great bass player, but this is OUR band, OUR music. This is the first decision we didn’t have a hand in, and i’m not used to that. So what I need from you is for you to be honest, just tell me about yourself, and answer any questions we have.” Her expression was hard to read, but I had a feeling this had been eating her up for a while. Though I hadn’t known it, I had been a wild card in their plans for weeks now, and they were just now getting to find out what that wild card would do. The fact that they had no decision in this sort of hurt. I had been under the impression that Shaun had recommended me to them, and they’d said yes. I had to look at the positive side though, which was that I was here and i’d been offered the position no matter what the circumstances were.

“I’ll answer anything you want, within reason of course. We can start with the basics. I’m Melanie Taylor, i’m 25. I currently work as a manager at a publishing company. I have a bachelor's degree from USC, the one in South Carolina, and I live in Greenville. I’m in a band with my best friend, Claire, though we mostly just play clubs and bars and the occasional event. I’ve played bass since I was 14…. What else do you want to know?”

Tegan sat forward, cutting off her sister.

“Are you a fan? Have you even heard the discography you’re going to be playing?”

I blushed. What a question….. Tegan smirked again, already guessing my answer.

“I’ve been a fan since about 2001. I can play any song of yours that you want on bass, some on guitar and even keyboard. I can sing backup, but I wouldn’t call myself a great singer honestly.”

Sara looked impressed, and Tegan sat back, letting her twin take the lead again.

“We have rules for people who go on tour with us. No drugs, at all, at any time. If a fan tries to give them to you, don’t accept it. It sends the wrong message about our band. If we catch you with drugs, you’re out. We don’t mind drinking, but there’s a time and place for it, and alcohol won’t be kept on the busses.”

I agreed to everything, explaining it wouldn’t be a problem since I didn’t do any drugs and I’m not particularly big on drinking anyways. Things calmed down and at some point we just started having a normal conversation. We talked about shared interests, Sara’s love of Scrabble and how I promised i’d beat her at least once before I left tour. We talked about the music we all loved, and Sara asked some generic interview questions. “Why do you want this job?”, “Why do you think you were picked for this position in the band?” leaving Tegan to butt in jokingly and ask “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” and then proceed to start giggling. Emy arrived not long after we’d gotten comfortable, and she was as sweet as i’d always pictured. Watching Sara and Emy in person was much different than what they showed the public, and it was sickeningly sweet. Hours passed, Piers and Andrew left, presumably to finish paperwork, Tegan made actual drinks, and we all forgot about the fact that I was supposed to play for them. During a particularly interesting retelling of a story involving a crew member on tour, Sara remembered another rule. I was sitting on the couch with Tegan, and Sara and Emy were sort of cuddled together on the love seat across from us.

“One of the biggest rules is that you can’t bring girls onto the bus.” I laughed, knowing that also wouldn’t be an issue.

“No worries there. I’m not interested in any of that.” Sara nodded, accepting my answer, but Tegan sat forward and blurted out “Why? Are you seeing someone?”

[cfpercy]

FROM HIS LATEST TO HIS FIRST: HARUKI MARAKAMI

To read a Murakami novel is to cross the threshold into another reality – a reality that looks like this one, where surreal phenomena goes unexplained, dreams may not just be dreams and wherein pervades an often unquantifiable sense of ennui, nostalgia or alienation – as easily as immersing yourself in a warm bath.  Or, as Tsukuru Tazaki, protagonist of Murakami’s latest novel, contemplates, ‘easier than swallowing down a slick, raw egg.’

I don’t think it would be an overstatement to say that, in terms of following, Haruki Murakami is something of a literary superstar.  Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and Years of Pilgrimage became Amazon.co.jp’s fastest selling book of 2013 – with ten thousand pre-orders within only eleven days of the publication date being announced and one million copies printed seven days after release – and was met with similar anticipation when it was published in English just over a year later.  The English edition was released in paperback in July this year, and then in August, Murakami’s English-speaking fans were rewarded with another release.  His first two novellas – Hear the Wind Sing & Pinball, 1973, originally published in 1979 & 1980 respectively – were to be published in English for the first time outside of Japan in a reversible hardback edition entitled Wind/Pinball, with an introduction written by Murakami himself, talking about the unique gestation of these, his ‘kitchen table’ novels (as in they were written, literally, at the kitchen table) and their impact on his career as a writer.

The two books, along with A Wild Sheep Chase published in 1982 (the book Murakami himself, and a lot of his fans, consider to be the true start of his writing career) comprise a loose trilogy, linked by character, known as ‘the trilogy of the Rat’ (it’s not necessary to have read the former in order to understand the latter, or vice versa, but, for those who have read A Wild Sheep Chase, Wind/Pinball will probably offer up some illuminating ‘aha’ moments), and though they may lack some of the technical and narrative proficiency of his later work, you can see in them the DNA for what would become known as a ‘Murakami novel’.

Hear the Wind Sing follows its unnamed narrator through the summer of 1970 as he spends his nights in J’s bar drinking and smoking with his friend – known only by the nickname ‘the Rat’ – and his days ruminating about writing, the women he’s slept with and pursuing a relationship with a mysterious woman with nine fingers. Pinball, 1973 takes place three years later, the narrator having moved to Tokyo, when he becomes obsessed down tracking the exact model of pinball machine that he used to play.  Meanwhile the Rat has been left behind in their hometown, despite his best efforts to leave it behind.

Both the narrator and the Rat are instantly recognisable as typical Murakami type characters.  The narrator is his male everyman protagonist: decent but often alienated and somewhat detached, which can be seen all through his work, right up to Tsukuru Tazaki, who – because he doesn’t, unlike the other members of his once close circle of friends, have a colour in his name – feels himself to be lacking substance in comparison, an empty vessel: colourless, and therefore worthless.

The Rat is charismatic and cynical, seemingly marked for trouble or tragedy, characteristics that can be seen in characters such as Kafka – titular protagonist of Kafka on the Shore – and his alter ego the boy named Crow, 1Q84’s Komatsu and Colorless Tsukuru’s Shiro (Miss White).

The female characters in Wind/Pinball are also templates for a lot (though not all) of the female characters in Murakami’s later works: they are essentially mysterious, having no proper names other than some identifying characteristic – the girl with nine fingers in Hear the Wind Sing is known only as this and the twins in Pinball, 1973 are only ever known by the numbers on their shirts, 208 & 209 – and often exert a strange magnetic influence over the male characters.  This, and the fact that Murakami isn’t shy about showing his male characters’ sexual attraction to these women – with matter-of-fact descriptions of breasts, other body parts and intercourse itself – has led him to labelled sexist by some.

Now, as a female who has never felt any of the Murakami books I’ve read to be sexist, I would like to take a moment to present my argument.  Firstly, to paraphrase Jonathan Franzen – another author often accused of sexism – in a recent Guardian interview, he ‘can’t help being a man’.  Sexual desire is, for the most part, a perfectly natural and healthy thing for men, for anyone, to express, and though he doesn’t explore female sexual desire as often, explore it he does, Aomame – the female protagonist in 1Q84 – being a prime example.

Secondly, his female characters aren’t objects, something that only has any meaning or relevance when it’s on the stage where we can see it.  Most of them do have names and they all have lives of their own, independent from the chains of narrative events their male counterparts are often a slave to – Sara, from Colorless Tsukuru, for example, works as a travel agent, and while she does all she can to help Tsukuru, it soon becomes apparent that, whilst she likes him, she doesn’t need Tsukuru the way he comes to need her.  Their mystery is the one we all know and face: the mystery of other human beings.  And yes, their lives may take place mostly off screen, but off-screen or not it is they who wield the influence – whether it be sexual, emotional or psychological – over the men, not the other way around.

Being his first, Hear the Wind Sing is, unsurpringly, the least technically accomplished of the two, with very little moving the plot forward it could almost be a series of vignettes. Pinball, 1973 is much more dynamic, with the narrator’s quest to find the three flipper spaceship pinball machine and, to a lesser extent, the Rat’s attempts to leave his girlfriend and the town, moving the story forward and providing a much more cohesively complete narrative like that of Colorless Tsukuru.  Despite this technical unevenness however, both novellas contain imagery as striking as in any of his later works – the image of the beacon on the shore in Pinball, for example, dividing the Rat’s world into the one he knows and a mysterious possibility, is just as haunting as Tsukuru’s dream in which a woman offers him her heart or her body and he is forced to choose between them.

In his introduction to Wind/Pinball Murakami mentions a Hungarian writer, Agota Kristof, who developed her unique style in a similar way to his own of initially writing everything down in his limited English and then translating, or ‘transplanting’, it back into Japanese. He describes her novels as being ‘cloaked in an air of mystery that suggested important matters hidden beneath the surface’, which is, and I’m sure most would agree with me, also a brilliant way to describe his own. And long may they continue to be so.

Originally published: http://www.walesartsreview.org/from-his-latest-to-his-first-haruki-marakami/