Oh Murakami. 5 weeks and 607 pages later... What a slog. 
 There were some genuinely fascinating reflections on humans and relationships and life and everything (see the goodreads quotes page for this book). But on the other hand, 90% of the book was written like the recount of a dream/nightmare. Impenetrable, bizarre, and rather violent. 
 I like this review: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/... "I had a feeling that in this novel things would continue to happen but the things would all be made of blancmange, a tasteless gooey substance which looks a little like wallpaper paste but isn't. And the people in the novel would all be not really real but also not really not real, if you know what I mean." 
 If there were a book that could make me change my 'must finish all books I start even if I don't initially like them, just in case' policy, this would be it. Although I must maintain that policy due to my strong belief that I can learn something from books even if I don't like them - PARTICULARLY if I don't like them. Because if it's easy to read, it probably reflects my perspective already, so nothing really new. But if it's difficult, it's probably a challenge to my perspective, and it will probably provide some new insight. Although in my disgruntled defence, 607 pages is A LOT. 
 In conclusion, some parts were insightful, but there's a lot of metaphysical slogging to do on the way.