It suddenly strikes me. Murakami and Auster are modern day Hemingways'. Both write short, sharp prose Hemingway style, but with the allussion to something deeper. The seemingly mundane is hinting at something hidden. The naivistic story line can drive you crazy with exasperation, frantically looking for the subtext you feel convinced is in there. More often than not you do not find it, but the promise remains. And keeps you reading.
Perhaps the mystery is really simple too, and it is all about the search, that keeps you curious and open minded. I don't know for sure. That's the whole point.

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