The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Rebecca Curtis Reads Haruki Murakami

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

The Narrator and the Monkey

The narrator doesn't seem to have compulsion. This is one point of distinction between him and the monkey, right? The narrator seems quite well balanced, a he's got it under control, or else, he just doesn't have the same passion at his core. You know, this monkey is a passionate monkey. He liv ruckner. He grew up very used to the sexual love of the professor and his wife, who had taken him in. And perhaps very affected by that. But we don't learn anything, actually, about our narrator. We don't know, you know, his upbringing at all. As he says, he gives a couple of meaningless phrases about where he lives

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