Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami is great writing and prose, but weird in terms of everything else.
I love it in parts, but can’t seem to grasp it as a whole. Like with everything else, it leaves me feeling out of sorts. The ending? All the more so.
“Like a little lost Sputnik?”
“I guess so.”
PS I made it through; barely, almost – but I made it, Alhamdulillah. I’ll be back.