"I don't think of myself as an artist," says the author more than once in the interview. Before I leave for Hawaii a friend confesses his enthusiasm for Murakami is partly based on a desire to be the kind of person who likes Murakami. This is where he disappears every morning while writing his novels, a place populated by the kind of characters who have come to define the Murakami style: enigmatic, deadpan, full of big emotions sheared flat by repression and presented with a detachment that, unusually for a novelist who sells in the millions, has given him a cult-like status. Murakami, who at 63 still looks like an adolescent skateboarder, divides his time between homes in Hawaii, Japan and a third venue he calls Over There. We are in the presidential suite of the Hyatt, Waikiki, overlooking an ad-perfect beach framed by mountains. For those 11 hours, you disappear wholly into Murakami world. Murakami looks crestfallen on receipt of this news – the ratio of writing to reading time is never very encouraging for a writer – and yet if anything tests a novel's power to transport, it is reading it at the back of economy on a full flight over long haul. It took the author three years to write and it is possible, on an 11-hour flight from New York to Honolulu, to get through about half of it. 1Q84, Haruki Murakami's new novel, is 1,000 pages long and is published in three volumes.
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