A Runner’s Voice

Way back in July a friend of mine lent me a book that I’ve been meaning to read for some time: ever since my first encounter with it in a backpacker’s bookstore in Thailand. The book was called Shantaram. I guess it’s fitting that this book was well displayed at traveler’s bookstores as it is definitely a road-less-traveled kind of story; something sure to appeal to an 18-year-old spending their Gap year in Asia.

After borrowing this mammoth book, I carried it around with me everywhere I went for a solid five weeks, opening it at any chance I got only to put it down a couple pages later. I hardly made a dent it – it wasn’t for lack of want or effort or poor writing – I just couldn’t get into it.

In the interest of maintaining this blog, I finally put Shanataram down for a break.  I had to start something else where more progress could be made. I’m never short on supply when it comes to books so I simply grabbed a couple from the (ever-growing) stack next to my bed. The first one that caught my eye was Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Most people who are familiar with Murakami know him for his surrealist kind of writing. I wasn’t really in the mood for that but I snuggled under the covers and turned to the first page anyway. In what seemed like seconds, I was almost 20 pages in. I stopped, turned the book over and kind of stared at the cover visualizing or processing what I had just read. What was so different about this book that I was innervated by the words rather than, dare I say, bored by them?

In many previous posts I’ve discussed reasons why I, and others, read – for entertainment, education, inspiration, stimulation, etc. – but something I haven’t talked about before is the voice of a book. There are certain topics that appeal to me more than others – generally I’m always up for tales of self-discovery (not to be confused with self-help) and anything to do with a good adventure (I’d say the same could be applied to my proclivity in daily activities) – but it is the author’s voice that makes a book accessible and truly enjoyable for me.

The voice is different from the tone or mood of the book, it’s literally what the person sounds like in my head. If the book has a strong voice, it’s almost as though I’m not reading but rather I’m being read to.  When I can’t find the voice, I find myself tripping over words, having to start sentences over again and again and generally not processing what I’ve read. In What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, the voice felt effortless, like I was having a (albeit a one-sided) conversation with Murakami himself.

Murakami calls this book a memoir though really we’re only given small glimpses of his life: how much he runs, how he started running, his races and even how he became a writer in the first place. It doesn’t read like a memoir because it doesn’t feel like Murakami’s looking backwards per se. Everything he says feels very in-the-moment, as though a lesson he learned five years ago has just been  relearned as he puts pen to paper. An epiphany experienced in the past remains enlightening for him.

As such, this book gave me much more in the way of “words of wisdom” than The Tao of RZA ever did and that wasn’t even Murakami’s intention (I don’t think).  I found myself highlighting almost entire pages as sentence after sentence seemed poignant or relevant. For about a page Murakami discusses individuality and the importance of the existence of different types of people. He does all of this as though he’s sitting in an armchair, just thinking out loud. It’s neither profound (to him) nor pompous when he declares “Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent”. These dozen or so words almost jumped off the page for me as my mind immediately began wondering what pain the people in my life who are independent, some fiercely so, have suffered. As for Murakami, the only life pain we’re privy to is that endured while pounding the pavement towards his annual marathons.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running was a timely read following the disappointment of the Tao of RZA. It was also a peaceful read where my own life experiences were able to weave in and out of Murakami’s parables. Suffice it to say I enjoyed this book, but the clincher for me in my appreciation was quite early on when Murakami described how he became a writer: “Turning thirty was just around the corner. I was reaching the age when I couldn’t be considered young anymore. And pretty much out of the blue I got the idea to write a novel.” Perhaps that’s another ingredient often present in a book I hungrily devour – having something tantalizingly in common with the book’s author. 😉

~ kate