When there’s nothing to do, you do nothing slowly and intently.
Haruki Murakami - Dance Dance Dance
We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.
Haruki Murakami - Sputnik Sweetheart
I don’t know, there’s something about you. Say there’s an hourglass: the sand’s about to run out. Someone like you can always be counted on to turn the thing over.
Murakami’s new backlist design uses the circle as a central motif and the palette is limited to red, black and off-white. This creates a strong and consistent identity for the set.
Murakami’s work has a sense that something has been lost or hidden, what is real and what is not. To match this playfulness for the covers, we commissioned Noma Bar, a talented Israeli-born and London-based illustrator. His powerful graphic illustrations cleverly utilise negative space concealing secondary images and illusions. Noma’s illustrations were screenprinted by hand to give them a personal and softer edge.
Noma Bar is represented by Dutch Uncle and can be found here.
Covers Illustrated by Noma Bar (except Birthday Stories and Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman).
Beyond the window, some kind of small, black thing shot across the sky. A bird, possibly. Or it might have been someone’s soul being blown to the far side of the world.
“Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to sleep through it. But even if you go to the ends of the earth, you won’t be able to escape it. Still, you have to go there - to the edge of the world. There’s something you can’t do unless you get there.”
— Haruki Murakami
“It’s about how love always comes to an end. We can only hope that we’ll get really close to someone, but it won’t last forever. That’s what you think about when you meet someone for the first time. We have this beautiful thing one day, but we can lose it all in one day too. It sounds really sad, but it’s also beautiful. The book doesn’t sugarcoat the truth and everyone can relate to it.”
— Rinko Kikuchi on Norwegian Wood
“In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumrie fell in love for the first time in her life. 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.”
Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
She laughed as she picked up the cat and let it down onto the floor. “Shall we?” We made love on the sofa. A period piece of a sofa I’d bought at a junk store. Put your face up against it and you get the scent of history. Her supple body blended in with that scent. Gentle and warm like a vague recollection. I brushed her hair aside with my fingers and kissed her ear. The earth trembled. From that point on, time began to flow like a tranquil breeze.
Haruki Murakami - A Wild Sheep Chase
It had been raining that day from morning to night—the kind of soft, monotonous, misty rain that often falls at that time of year, washing away bit by bit the memories of summer burned into the earth. Coursing down the gutters, all those memories flowed into the sewers and rivers, to be carried to the deep, dark ocean.