murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"I'd go and have a look around at least. It might be fun. My sister says
she'd absolutely refuse. She can't stand dirty things and dirty places."
"Is Uruguay dirty?"
"Who knows? She thinks it is. Like the roads are full of donkey shit
and it's swarming with flies, and the toilets don't work, and lizards and
scorpions crawl all over the place. She maybe saw a film like that. She
can't stand flies, either. All she wants to do is drive through scenic
places in fancy cars."
"No way."
"I mean, what's wrong with Uruguay? I'd go." "So who's running the
shop?"
"My sister, but she hates it. We have an uncle in the neighbourhood
who helps out and makes deliveries. And I help when I have time. A
bookshop's not exactly hard labour, so we can manage. If it gets to be
too much, we'll sell the place."
"Do you like your father?"
Midori shook her head. "Not especially." "So how can you follow him
to Uruguay?"
"I believe in him."
"Believe in him?"
"yeah, I'm not that fond of him, but I believe in my father.
How can I not believe in a man who gives up his house, his kids, his
work, and runs off to Uruguay from the shock of losing his wife? Do
you see what I mean?"
I sighed. "Sort of, but not really."
Midori laughed and patted me on the back. "Never mind," she said. "It
really doesn't matter."
One weird thing after another came up that Sunday afternoon. A fire
broke out near Midori's house and, when we went up to the third-floor
laundry deck to watch, we sort of kissed. It sounds stupid when I put it
like that, but that was how things worked out.
We were drinking coffee after the meal and talking about the
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