is helplessly in love with and Miu, the women Sumire has fallen for. There is K., your typical easy-going and pensive Murakami narrator Sumire, a bohemian and obsessive writer who dresses in an oversized coat and heavy boots, dreams of emulating Jack Kerouac, and whom K. Their fatal flaws are not violent jealousy though, but a sort of insidious loneliness destined to prevent them ever really finding what they most crave. The plot revolves around a love triangle between three people who, like Othello, love not wisely but too well. Perhaps because it is about anticipation of, and longing for, love rather than love itself, it is also one of the most romantic books I have ever read. It is beautifully evocative yet difficult to define, a tale of unrequited love, unrealised ambition, and yearning, always yearning, for more. Sputnik Sweetheart is a novel of almosts, where liminal spaces overlap and longing can never quite be divorced from true love. This was where it all began, and where it all ended. The person she fell in love with happened to be 17 years older than Sumire. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains – flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds, crushing them to bits…In short, a love of truly monumental proportions. “In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.
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