Blech. The beginning was fine, but slid further into repetitive (and excruciatingly artificial) dialogue as it went along. The last third (at least) of the book was a slog, to say the least. I get the whole "mystical realism" concept, but this seemed utterly pointless. Murakami seemed to throw in similies by the fistful every time he couldn't figure out what to do, plot-wise. The characters were unbelievable for the most part, if not downright idiotic (read: Hoshino and Colonel Sanders). Plot threads are picked up and then dropped with annoying frequency. YUCK. If I wasn't so stubborn, I would have given up on this book, but I kept hoping for something amazing to happen. No such luck. If this is Murakami's best, I think I'll skip the rest of his oeuvre.