A Field Mouse in the Thicket
I finally finished reading Murakami Haruki’s
It was very thick, and I kept putting it off to read other books in between, but I finished it the day before yesterday and completed transcribing it this afternoon. As expected, there were many good sentences, and while I’ll record them separately in a
When I write, I often hesitate because of the pressure to include a specific meaning, but honestly, there are many times when I just want to write. There must be meaning, but I don’t quite know what it is. Haruki brilliantly articulated this subtle and complex feeling.
✒️A Field Mouse in the Thicket_Murakami Haruki**
To be honest, I’ve always really enjoyed writing short stories of this length. Of course, writing long novels is my most important work, but when I write these short, funky stories in my spare time, my heart feels very light. This might be closer to a personal hobby than actual work.
Because of that, writing these kinds of pieces is not difficult at all. If it were difficult, it wouldn’t be a hobby, would it? I just take a deep breath at my desk and write whatever comes to mind, and that’s enough. I’m not boasting, but I can come up with as many stories like these as I want.
Even so, if you were to seriously ask, “I understand that, but what on earth is the meaning of a story like this?” then I’d be in trouble. A lot of trouble. Honestly, there isn’t really any particular meaning that these stories need to convey.
No, saying ‘it has no meaning’ might be a bit misleading. More precisely, it’s not ‘it has no meaning,’ but rather ‘there must be meaning, but I don’t know what that meaning is.’ The meaning is definitely somewhere — like a field mouse holding its breath, hidden deep in the thicket. The reason is that I suddenly came up with the story — in other words, from nothing — and if so, then there must be some ‘inevitability’ that caused me to think of it. Perhaps an inevitability as faint as a field mouse.
However, I have no way of knowing what that faint field mouse was thinking in the thicket at that moment. All I know is that I wrote those stories fluently — and that I wrote them with enjoyment.
So, if possible, please don’t overthink it, and just lightly enjoy the story here. Wouldn’t it be nice if we enjoyed ourselves as we pleased, and the field mouse lived as it pleased?