Did it ever struck you that books choose their readers rather than readers choose the books they want? How on some possible sense could it have been, of course it couldn’t be that books are conscious while standing on the shelf. (Though I really think it is possible because we can’t really tell who’s really conscious of who). On how I was able to get hold of this book (and how I met Haruki’s work) has somehow found a metaphor in me. Standing on the shelf, Kafka seemed to call me while I scan for a new book that I will be bringing as I plan to go on an adventure same as Kafka. Of course by then I still didn’t know what adventure Kafka faced. At some point I thought it could have been destined for me buy this book at that certain time. A work of fatalism by an author I didn’t know. So then I ran away with this book, and same with Kafka, I learned things I was vulnerable to know before.
With this mind boggling story, mixed with extraordinary characters, and unexpected turns of events. Plus a five star on my goodreads, I highly recommend this book for readers looking for something different.