I love Haruki Murakami! So much!
Just finished his memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Extra true love for the use of the Raymond Carver title adaptation. But mostly true love for an honest, straightforward discussion on what running means for him as an author and as a person. Strikes a chord with me, as I slowly get back into it. The void of thought, the alone time, the quiet accomplishments. Right on.
If I taught English to darling little high schoolers or dear college freshman, I would make them read this book (that’s my secret wish, that I could force people, other than certain friends, to read things I like). They would love it! It is SO short! And nothing metaphysical happens (not really, anyway). And then I would make them all write essays about some leisure activity they do, like play guitar, or listen to music, or play video games, or play basketball, or crochet (just kidding), or whatever it is that they are INTO, and about what that activity means to them as a human being, as a friend, as a student, etc. What role do chosen activities play in the formation of who we are? I would really like to read those essays.
Send me yours! Three pages please.