Kafka on the Shore and The Wind Up Bird Chronicle are two of my favourite books ever. Killing Commendatore just doesn't come close to either. I've got a soft spot for writers who write the same book over and over again, but this iteration of mystical holes in the ground and weird young girls and a ghastly historical event and an aimless emotionally neutral protagonist and random sex and phone calls from strange people and weird things talking wasn't anywhere near as beguiling as Kafka on the Shore or The Wind Up Bird Chronicle. Still worth a read, like IQ84 was, but Haruki set the bar ridiculously high in his earlier books. Miles Davis could probably just have kept on releasing outtakes and alternate versions of Kind of Blue forever, and they still would've been worth listening to, but I think Mr Murakami nailed this kind of tale a long while ago.