Best Jazz Master

If you catch death without having read Haruki Murakami, it's not going to make a lick of difference. You'll only have missed out on something brilliant. In his nonfiction piece, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Murakami details how he and his wife try to live by the sun these days; by going to bed soon after sunset in order to get up with the dawn. It reminds me of the rhythms into which you naturally slip when you're camping. It makes best a lot of sense to live thus; we are not, historically, nocturnal creatures after all. Who knew that illuminating New York City would serve to illuminate the whole world after dark? Indeed, if Edison had understood the full extent of the diabolical dealings that lurk in the shadows, would he have disowned his invention? Perhaps that's what de la Rocha's on about in his track, Digging For Windows.

My Murakami odysseus began with the fantastic Hardboiled-Wonderland and The End of The World. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is probably my favourite of his novels; contingent upon mood of course, as is the case with all favourites. If you see your favourite as being fixed and expect it to remain the same despite the inevitability of ever-changing circumstances, I recommend an appointment with a shrink.

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