Categories
Book Reviews

First Person Singular

By Haruki Murakami
Hmm, said the parrot to the other. Hmm, echoed the other back. The silence that followed gave context to the hmms - though without speaking parrot, I have no rational way of knowing what that context could be. I found the conversation to be very unsettling.

The above paragraph is all I wrote on my Goodreads page after finishing this collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami. Goodreads is a great way for me to track what I've read, to expatiate on what I like (and dislike) about the book in question and (most importantly) to massage my ego. I imagine that my reviews bring joy to the many, many people who read those pithy and witty reviews. I imagine they find so much joy and depth in them that they are hankering for more. Can you not hear them? "Yes! Thank you for such erudite insights? Where can we find more of such delightful morsels?"

"In my Manifestoes of Collage as Literature," I humbly reply. 

As I mentioned elsewhere, I acknowledge that I'm late to the game. Remember though, I've got that plan to build my pyramid atop the hill. It might be a cheat code, but all is fair in writing. (That may seem like it could be a tenet; but, it is not. It is too glib, even for me. 

I also acknowledge that the market for book reviews (and the album reviews to come) might be a bit saturated. But we Americans love our saturation, don't we? Think of my book reviews as McDonald's French Fries, when McDonald's French Fries were actually delicious and fresh. They were never nutritious and too much saturated fat will kill you. Every now and again, though... But I digress.

The reviews here will not be seen through the lens of Collage as Literature. Rather, they will be employed in smoothing that lens, polishing it until it is perfected or broken. There will be no format. There will be no rules. There will just be. And, why not? You heard the people reading my Goodreads reviews. They want more expatiation. They demand it. Their wants, needs and aspirations mean I am now free to move about. They don't care if my reviews are only tangentially about the book they reference. Why should I? 

Hmm, said the parrot to the other. Hmm, replied the parrot knowingly. 

I became even more unsettled when the parrots repeated their conversation. In desperation I blurted out, "but what does it mean?" They would not tell me. I sat down in despair and looked up at the two birds, perched as they were on the telephone lines, conversing and squawking at one another. I named them Pete and Re-Pete. This helped to settle my nerves and refocus my attention. During this brief moment of introspective soothing, the birds had flown the coop, so to speak. I was left alone with my Goodreads review. "But what does it mean?"

I won't often explain my reviews. I should rather say, I don't plan to explain my reviews very often. Given that this is the first expatiative exercise surrounding a book review, and that I am coming to the end of the post without too much in the way of tenets or rules of Collage as Literature, I will instead make an exception. The Goodreads review (and this stretchy and stretched metareview) is my way of imitating and absorbing Haruki Murakami's style. Does that make me a plagiarist of ideas and tone, if not words? I'm not ready for you to answer that question yet. So, don't. Instead, meditate on the artwork of Jesse Treece. That is what I'm going to do.