Tuesday, September 7, 2010

We cannot tell what the weather will be tomorrow because we do not know accurately enough what the weather is right now.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, rewritten by Haruki Murakami, along with one of the most seductive black & white author photos I've ever seen in a flap jacket (the other being Jonathan Franzen's smoldering gaze in The Corrections) and we have Atmospheric Disturbances. It begins like this: Last December a woman entered my apartment who looked exactly like my wife. It ends like this: I'll at least know the purpose of the rest of my life. In the middle: a therapist named Leo attempts to locate his wife, who's gone missing and been replaced with an almost exact replica, a near perfect doppleganger, of his wife. He stays in blackberry contact with a dead meteorologist, flies to Buenos Aires, learns about the 49 Quantum Fathers, drinks copious amounts of herbal tea. He also may or may not be losing his mind to Capgras Delusion, a disorder in which a person believes a friend, spouse, parent, or close family member has been replaced by an identical-looking impostor. Or, but, no, Leo's pretty sure he knows the nuances of his wife. And this woman, this simulacrum, isn't quite her. So Leo must set off in search of his wife. He must find his real wife.

No comments: