Drawn by the sound of drums from afar, I set out on a long journey.
Wearing an old coat and leaving everything behind…

Haruki Murakami's masterpiece travel essay, originally published in October 1997, has been republished in a new hardcover edition to keep up with the times.
These are records of Haruki Murakami's life, in which he organized his feelings about literature, life, and novel writing while traveling around Europe for approximately three years from the fall of 1986 to the fall of 1989.
During these three years, from his departure at thirty-seven to his return at forty, Haruki Murakami completed “A Time of Loss” and “Dance Dance Dance.”
Haruki Murakami details the process of overcoming the anxiety and obsession of not being able to do anything until he turns forty through travel, and the various episodes that occurred during that process, using his signature humor and free writing style.
The anticipation and thrill of not knowing what might happen today, each day in Europe presented Haruki with surprising sights and awe-inspiring experiences.
This is a masterpiece travel essay that follows a journey through Greece, Italy, and England, told through Haruki's characteristically delicate and elegant prose.

Well, even if it's Saturday or Sunday, it has almost nothing to do with us.
It didn't really matter to me when I was in Japan, but after coming to the Greek islands, it became even more of a problem.
It doesn't matter if Tuesday becomes Wednesday or Thursday becomes Monday.

--- p.77

There are often things like that in the world.
Things that have a clear motive and a great appearance, but appear even more miserable when they fail.

--- p.113

When I stare blankly at the fireplace, time passes quietly and pleasantly.
There are no phone calls, no deadlines, and no television.
There is nothing.
All I see is crackling and sparks flying right before my eyes.
A pleasant silence fills the air.

--- p.97

That tendency appears in writing to a greater or lesser extent.
Because it is so natural and obvious when we are writing (because, in principle, we write according to our state of mind at that time), it is almost impossible to objectively check the temperature, color, or light and shade of what we have written on the spot.
But I think the human heart can sometimes become so inexorably frozen.
Especially when you're writing a novel.

--- p.165

It was painful to keep writing novels every day.
Sometimes I even felt like I was cutting my own bones and chewing my own muscles (some might think, 'It's not that great of a novel, is it?').
But the writer gets this feeling).
But not using it was more painful.
Writing is hard work, but writing wants to be written.
The most important thing in such a situation is concentration.
It is the power of concentration to immerse oneself in that world, and the power to sustain that concentration for as long as possible.
If you do that, at some point you can overcome the pain.
And believing in yourself.
It's important for me to believe that I have the ability to accomplish this.

--- p.186

It's always like that.
It's always the same.
When I write a novel, I don't want to die.
I don't want to die.
I keep thinking that I don't want to die.
I absolutely do not want to die, at least not until I have safely finished that novel.
The thought of dying before finishing this novel makes me so angry that I almost cry.
Perhaps this will not be a great work that will go down in literary history.
But at least this is me.
To put it more extremely, if I don't finish that novel, my life is no longer my life.

--- p.215

At that time, I was tired and confused, and my wife was not in good health.
I didn't feel like writing.
I came back from Hawaii and spent the summer translating.
Even if you can't write your own text, you can still translate.
For me, consistently translating other people's novels is a kind of healing act.
This is also one of the reasons why I translate.

--- p.357

Helplessness remains helplessness, and exhaustion remains exhaustion.
The two bees, Giorgio and Carlo, are still hiding somewhere.
As they prophesied, they just got older and nothing was solved.
But I also think this.
It's fortunate that we were able to return to our original position, it could have been much worse,' he said.
Yes, I am an optimistic person.

--- p.501