Murakami feels more and more like an old friend with whom I feel comfortable: most of the conversations and stories are ones we've had before, but it is still fun to banter and to rehash old arguments and think about the good times.

Sputnik Sweetheart was completely unremarkable within his ouevre. It was a good book, and if it was my first Murakami I would probably hold it in higher esteem — it certainly feels like it could be a good entry into his world — but it wasn't, and I don't. You can read it if you've never read Murakami before or if you're desperate for more, but I would never recommend it over, say, Colorless Tsukuru.

★★★