After Dark by Haruki Murakami has us, the readers, looking down on the character's lives and observing them silently. We watch Mari as she waits out the night at a Denny's and meet two people who kickstart a night of activities. We also watch Mari's sister Eri's room as she sleeps through the night.

This was a decent book, and I can see why a lot of people recommend it as a beginner Murakami novel. It was relatively easy to understand; and while it did include magical realism, it was minimal and only involved one small part of the plot. It also included other classic aspects of Murakami's work, like western imagery and chance encounters, which lure you into his writing style.

That being said, I prefer some of his other works over this one. The use of first person plural in this book threw me off and took me out of the actual events. I am glad I read it, but it is not a stand-out of his works for me. ( )

This was a lovely story about a blossoming friendship between the young trombonist Takahashi and Mara, the younger sister of a girl to whom he was once attracted. The whole story takes place during one night, but multiple things happen overnight, including an unfortunate incident involving a Chinese prostitute plus the weird temporary disappearance of Mara’s sister.

I love the way Murakami writes. He includes small details as if they’re the most important things in the world. In addition, he plays with magical realism in such a way to make his stories intriguing and fun. It’s been a while since I’ve read his stories. This one sure makes me want to get back to them again. ( )

Murakami's prose is entrancing, and this short novel showcases it beautifully. The book spans only a few hours, but moves between characters as if through a dream, and bridges a clear glimpse of reality with what seems almost spectral. As always, though, it is the moments that stand out here, and Murakami's distinct way of presenting what seems utterly casual in a fashion that suggests everything rests on it.

I couldn't put down this book almost from the second I picked it up, and loved sinking into Murakami's words again.

Recommended. ( )

Tanti passaggi promettenti che però non sono sfocati in nulla.

C'è la giovane Mari che ogni tanto ha l'irrefrebibile impulso di passare tutta la notte fuori (il perché ci viene spiegato e sinceramente la capisco). In una di questi notti si imbatte in un ex compagno di scuola della sorella (modella bellissimissima e impegnatissima). I due iniziano una conversazione (nonostante le risposte fredde e laconiche di Mari).
Non c'è nessuna odissea come scritto nella trama ( )

After dark, the city is a different woman. She sheds off her daytime attire, emerging uninhibited, transformed. For the dark hours court extremes. The night’s shadows hide the blackest of crimes but also random acts of kindness, nascent friendships and loves. The night brings hedonist pleasure to some, hard work to others. And as the mystics teach us, the night, whether real or metaphorical, can bring cleansing and growth.

While the rest sleep, those who stay awake form an ill-assorted family of sinners and saints, heroes and villains, hunters and prey. The diverse cast which peoples Murakami’s brief novel “After Dark” seems to be a cross-section of this community of outcasts, whom we accompany on the streets of Tokyo over one eventful night. There’s Mari Asai, a timid student who kills the early hours reading in a Denny’s. There’s Takahashi, a jazz trombonist who’s doing his last gig. There’s retired female wrestler Kaoru and her fellow employees at the Alphaville “love hotel”. There’s also a Chinese female prostitute battered by an improbable assailant, the suave office worker Shirakawa. And, in a typically Murakamesque (Murakamian?) touch there’s also Mari’s sister Eri, an attractive young woman who has decided to “go to sleep”, and who lies in bed in a sort of suspended animation, a cross between a latter-day Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.

What struck me about this book (which I read in an Italian translation by Antonietta Pastore) is how “cinematic” it is, in the sense that it often reads like a film script. There are swathes of dialogue, reported in direct speech. Much of the rest of the text consists of minute descriptions of sights and sounds. Often Murakami consciously evokes the perspective of a video camera, zooming in and out of scene. We can also hear the soundtrack to this imaginary movie – the title itself refers one of Takahashi’s favourite songs, Curtis Fuller’s “Five Spot After Dark”, but there several other musical references, from the Japanese hip-hop playing in the 24/7 supermarket to the Scarlatti and Bach which Shirakawa works and exercises to in a deserted office block. (Incidentally, one reader has helpfully built an After Dark playlist on Spotify).

I can’t say I’ve read many of Murakami’s works - this is only my third after Norwegian Wood and Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. However, as I’ve said elsewhere, Murakami always leaves me somewhat perplexed. His books go down so easily and enjoyably, like a glass of sparkling wine. At times, even as they describe a city I’ve never been to, and a life I’ve never lived, they seem to speak directly to me, as if they knew my secrets. On the other hand, other passages seem trite, the dialogue artificial (why do Murakami’s conversations end up sounding like a counselling session?) I honestly can’t fathom him, just as most of his characters can’t seem to fathom themselves. ( )