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Murakami's solution is to start jogging.

edit: to answer your question, I suggest The Wind Up Bird Chronicle. Murakami is overrated. Once you've read that one, you've essentially read them all.

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Yeah, I finally got out of the existential crisis by doing the mundane; jogging, living, cooking. Things that I know cognitively have no meaning in answering the ultimate question. Later, I realized that Camus's sense of rebellion although unsatisfactory was what I was doing. I was aware of the meaningless nature of existence and still progressing. That is hard; somehow it gave me more hope than it should.

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