2021-09-02
1 小时 1 分钟Rebecca Curtis joins Deborah Treisman to read and discuss “Confessions of a Shinagawa Monkey,” by Haruki Murakami, which was published in The New Yorker in 2020. Curtis is the author of the story collection “Twenty Grand: and Other Tales of Love and Money.”
This is the New Yorker fiction podcast from the New Yorker magazine.
I'm Deborah Treisman, fiction editor at the New Yorker.
Each month we invite a writer to choose a story from the magazine's archives to read and discuss.
This month, we're going to hear confessions of a Shinagawa monkey by Haruki Murakami, translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel, which was published in the New Yorker in June of 2020.
The monkey used the opener to pop the cap off one of the beers and poured out two glasses silently.
We clinked our glasses together in a little toast.
Thanks for the drinks, the monkey said, and happily gulped the cold beer.
I drank some as well.
Honestly, it felt odd to be seated next to a monkey sharing a beer, but I guess you get used to it.
The story was chosen by Rebecca Curtis, who's the author of the story collection 20 and other tales of Love and money.
Hi, Rebecca.
Hi.
Hi.
So Murakami was one of the first writers you thought about when we were planning this taping.
What is it about his writing that you're drawn to?
There's a lot of different things.
One thing is his stories seem effortless, more so than many other stories I can think of.
Murakami's writing always seems just like he sat down and wrote it and never edited or thought hard about a phrase.
The narrative, whether it's first person or third person, feels so relaxed and casual and natural.
Something about that casualness makes it feel very real.