My friend David is a big fan of Haruki Murakami, so when I was at the library I picked up In the Miso Soup — a book by a completely different person who happens to share the same last name. If this were a movie I would describe it as Lost in Translation meets Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer; the whole time I was reading it I kept thinking “I didn’t realize David was into such bleak, dark stuff”. I got all the way through and started writing a blog entry about this before Wikipedia and Amazon clued me in to my mistake.
Now I’m reading a book by the author I intended to read the first time. I suppose there’s some lesson about books and covers in here somewhere.