When I read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle the first time, it was maddening. The passivity of Toru Okada was infuriating. I found myself with the book gripped tightly, half in each hand, hunched over in my chair, or in bed, hissing ‘Do something!‘
When I finished it, I was glad. I felt like I’d come out of a dream about a hot, stifling room.