I got my brother to read Murakami and like it. Okay, scratch that. I got him to read Murakami, liking it was Murakami's doing. Last night I was trying to finish my article for Ancop and he was being his usual self, irritating me. When he finally mellowed down, he asked me to lend him a book he could enjoy. It was a far more difficult task than anyone could ever imagine. I stood before the bookshelf and decided upon a book then decided against it for about a dozen times. The lucky ball in my lottery of literature was South of the Border, West of the Sun. It is shortest of all my Murakamis (After Dark is still with Chase). At first I thought of David Sedaris, but I wanted kuya to read a novel. There's no Coelho I could recommend. And for some unknown reason I couldn't find any of my Gaimans.
Before I left for coffee at 11pm with Chase and Nicole, Kuya Paolo called out to me and said "Galing!" and I looked at him with so much happiness one could only expect from a mother who just laid upon her first born baby. "Talaga?" I asked. He sneered at me "Malamang hindi! Second page pa lang ako eh!" I suddenly felt hopeless. I kept thinking I should've made him read Kafka on the Shore instead. It was my first Murakami and it has far more actions than South of the Border, which can be a little dragging (as far as I can remember).
I got back a little later than 1am, I was washing my face when he startled me. Holding Murakami in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Hahaha! He was still reading. And even when I was already sleeping, he would wake me up out of excitement, or when he's irritated by Murakami's mysteries, or amazed at his vivid descriptions.
He finished the novel this afternoon. I felt like a mother who's watching her son graduate from college, I felt so proud! He still has questions, which were the same as mine when I read it two years ago. He hates that Murakami gives away mysteries and doesn't solve them in the end. But I think I can prod him to read Kafka next!