murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

draw people - or draw me, at least - into her performance. So I decided
it might be worthwhile to teach her. Of course, retraining her at that
point to where she could become a pro was out of the question. But I
felt it might be possible to make her into the kind of happy pianist I
was then - and still am - someone who could enjoy making music for
herself. This turned out to be an empty hope, though. She was not the
kind of person who quietly goes about doing things for herself. This
was a child who would make detailed calculations to use every means
at her disposal to impress other people. She knew exactly what she
had to do to make people admire and praise her. And she knew exactly
what kind of performance it would take to draw me in. She had
calculated everything, I'm sure, and put everything she had into
practising the most important passages over and over again for my
benefit. I can see her doing it.
"Still, even now, after all of this came clear to me, I believe it was a
wonderful performance and I would feel the same chills down my
spine if I could hear it again. Knowing all I know about her flaws, her
cunning and lies, I would still feel it. I'm telling you, there are such
things in this world."
Reiko cleared her throat with a dry rasp and broke off.
"So, did you take her as a pupil?" I asked.
"Yeah. One lesson a week. Saturday mornings. Saturday was a day off
at her school. She never missed a lesson, she was never late, she was
an ideal pupil. She always practised for her lessons. After every
lesson, we'd have some cake and chat."
At that point, Reiko looked at her watch as if suddenly remembering
something.
"Don't you think we should be getting back to the room? I'm a little
worried about Naoko. I'm sure you haven't forgotten about her now,
have you?"
"Of course not," I laughed. "It's just that I was drawn into your story."
"If you'd like to hear the rest, I'll tell it to you tomorrow. It's a long
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