Slacking behind my writings could only meant more illustrations. The Paris piece is inspired by this friend who’s hiding away in Paris (not sure from what :p) while managing some tres-chic brands on the side. The Purple piece came right after I finished two seasons of Game of Thrones. To live in such an era, wearing such clothes and saying such and such words. Oh the joy. Okay, maybe without all the rape, slavery and cruel tortures….. Why can’t we all just get along while walking around in long flowing shimmery robes and saying things like “Delightful it is that the sun rise again and yet again I find myself stumbling for words to define the radiance of your beauty.” ? Not that the GoT kids would say such a thing, but you get my drift. Lately my vocabularies have been butchered by the Indo’s tendencies to modify words that would liken one to be a barely speaking 2 year olds. “Lahaaciyyaaaaa” Oh so refined.
But as the universe never let one down, a dear friend had just lent me Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami that felt like those times when you’ve been complaining of how jammed Jakarta’s traffic is and suddenly the police came by right next to you opening the way for their super important officials and you know you just have to risk it and follow the convoy. Can’t help to say “OMG THIS IS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE” and probably add a pinch or two to yourself on the mix. Truth be told, never fear following such commotion as even when the police stop and look at you angrily to get back in your original line, they can do nothing to stop you following them! What are they going to do? Wait there and babysit you while they fail to secure the tail end of the convoy? Bah. No respect to them whatsoever. Especially after knowing such services could be bought for a mere US$30 as long as you have friends in the higher places. Don’t you look at me know, I know no such people.
Back to Norwegian Wood. It’s an old book and I get it why people kept talking about Haruki Murakami now. As I am reading the English translation, I must say the translator, this one is called Jay Rubin, had done an excellent job. I wouldn’t have a clue whether it captures all the essence of the Japanese version, but I must say I am blown away by the English version. There’s no doubt regarding the plots, the way Haruki Murakami built tensions slowly and how he released them with ease and grace that every aspiring writers would want to posses even just for a paragraph. And the book is full of it. So many beautiful imagery and metaphors that you just can’t help but wonder what goes through inside his mind. As I am a big nerd for chosen words, I must give a lot of the credits to the translator as well. The words, oh my the words. There’s no way google translate could’ve done this even in a million years from now. Even if it created another layer or subtracted one from the original Japanese text, it is still a piece on its own. Beautifully crafted. I could see him sitting and agonizing the choice of words and reading the sentences over and over again just to make sure they’re portraying the same feeling and evoking the same emotion. Beautiful. Beautiful.
Reading the book felt like indulging the sweetest honey milk. When I am not lost in the plots and the world that Haruki Murakami created, I’d be lost in the words that Jay Rubin had chosen to brought it alive.