I think I would pull out less hair. In this rat-race of a society, I have learnt so many lessons from his novels, from being the Zen-like yet disinterested observer of humanity to just being altogether disenchanted with mankind’s antics. Sometimes, I do a little ‘bald, balding, not balding’ private people-count whenever I’m stressed. It makes me feel better. Cheap thrill I know, but who cares if it does not hurt anyone?
It’s purely my opinion, but it’s Murakami for me any day to Kafka.
Is it likely he’d come to Singapore?