My second Haruki Murakami and probably not my last: I'll probably read The Wind-up Bird Chronicles too. Norwegian Wood is supposed to be his most accessible, though. It was a lot less, as in not at all, as surreal as Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World News. The final page threw me, but it does work...kind of.
This happened three weeks ago, the day before my iBook blew a gasket. I was reversing out of a parking spot at work when I noticed a couple of crows on the nearly flat roof on the building next door. Because of its shallow angle, the roof had kept the night's snow; because of the lip on the roof, it had kept much of its melted snow as well. The crows were bathing in snowmelt, and being as goofy as any other bathing bird.
I probably thought of it now because today RDC sent me a picture of a freshly showered buddy doing his drowned dragon impression. I should have showered him a few days ago: he's been smelling especially good. Intern asked what he smells like. Dusty, I said, but not like a dusty room--like a dusty cockatiel. Soft and sweet and...dusty. The dustier the better, but the dustier the more Blake wants a shower. You can distinguish, or we can, between his "I'm bored because you're in the shower and not paying attention to me" yell and his "I'm attracting your attention to the fact I want a shower" yell.
These crows probably didn't get as silly as Blake. I didn't see them turn nearly upside down with their heads between their feet and their tails in the air, but that's probably hard to do on a flat surface like a roof instead of on a finger perch. But they were very silly. They slid the short slope, flapped heavily back up, and slid down again; they fluffed their feathers out, making themselves look much bigger but not for the reason a cat might--to intimidate with size--but to get water deep into their plumage; they hunkered into the slush and probably would have appreciated a rubber ducky.
RDC was on his way to Amsterdam--one reason I succumbed to the convenience of driving--so I couldn't call and tell him about it. Instead I called Tex and made him look out his window, whereupon the crows immediately flew off, one to the lamppost right in front of the building. I told him to look to his left and the tracks on the roof. "Those are theirs?" he asked. He wasn't as delighted with the spectacle as I was, since he didn't witness it and isn't a bird person, but he understood why it was interesting and funny and enjoyed my pleasure in it. So today I made him (and Intern) look at the picture RDC sent me of the freshly showered buddy.