murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

problems far more urgent and relevant than Greek tragedy, but you're
not going to listen to anything I have to say, so do what you like."
Grasping the edge of the table, he set his feet on the floor, picked up
his cane and limped out of the classroom.
While the tall student passed out his handbills, the round one went to
the podium and started lecturing. The handbills were full of the usual
simplistic sloganeering: "SMASH
FRAUDULENT ELECTIONS FOR UNIVERSITY PRESIDENT!",
"MARSHAL ALL FORCES FOR NEW ALL-CAMPUS STRIKE!",
"CRUSH THE IMPERIAL-EDUCATIONAL-INDUSTRIAL
COMPLEX!"
I had no problem with what they were saying, but the writing was
lame. It had nothing to inspire confidence or arouse the passions. And
the round man's speech was just as bad - the same old tune with
different words. The true enemy of this bunch was not State Power but
Lack of Imagination.
"Let's get out of here," said Midori.
I nodded and stood, and the two of us made for the door. The round
man said something to me at that point, but I couldn't catch it. Midori
waved to him and said, "See ya later."
,Hey, are we counter-revolutionaries?" Midori asked me when we
were outside. "Are we going to be strung upon telephone poles if the
revolution succeeds?"
"Let's have lunch first, just in case."
"Good. There's a place I want to take you to. It's a bit far, though. Can
you spare the time?"
"Yeah, I'm free until my two o'clock class."
Midori took me by bus to Yotsuya and showed me to a fancy boxedlunch
speciality shop in a sheltered spot just behind the station. The
minute we sat down they served us soup and the lunch of the day in
square, red-lacquered boxes. This was a place worth a bus ride to eat
at.
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