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You could interpret the title of Haruki Murakami’s Novelist as a Vocation two ways: a.) as a vocation for you, the reader, or b.) as a vocation for me, Murakami, the writer. Reading the book itself, however, will prove that the latter proves more true than the former.

Which is not to say that there are no tips. If you’ve thought about writing a novel, even in a desultory, pipe-dream kind of way, you’ll find all the encouragement you need here. Murakami is of the school that most anyone who can put together sentences can write a novel. It may not be very good, but it will be a novel.

He also sides with the no-way-José to outlining crowd. Just write and follow where your prose leads you. He repeats what I’ve read many, many places before: Characters have a will of their own and will take over like mutineers on the H.M.S. Bounty. For beginners, that has got to be a relief. Sharing the job duties with your characters lightens the load, after all.

Specialized training? No need. MFA? BS (“Be serious.�) It’s all a rather freewheeling, Nike-like “Just do it� kind of affair here.

I can disparage this attitude easily because, well, it’s hole-ier than Swiss cheese that goes to church every Sunday. But then I recall a dear poetry friend (now passed, sadly) who encouraged my early poetry writing all the way to publication. Without the “Just do it and don’t worry about the Ivory Tower types guarding the gates� encouragement she offered, I wouldn't have come as far as I have today. To me, that unabashed “If you like doing it, write� attitude of hers was very much in the Murakami School of Wing-It-and-Have-Fun (even though the hours and loneliness might be brutal and take a toll on your physical health).

But really, this book, originally released seven years ago in Japan, is more memoir like in its approach. Only a few chapters dabble in “How To� mechanics. For the most part, it’s memoir-like, seeing writing through the lens of Murakami’s past books.

When I consider that lens and the fact that this book is a past publication, I wonder how much its rerelease is designed to help sales of Murakami’s oeuvre overall. Not a bad plan, really. Because no matter how laissez-faire or contradictory (at one point saying the act of daily writing can be painful after earlier calling it a joy) or opinionated (with lots of “this is just my opinion" caveats) the book can be, it is interesting to read because Murakami himself is interesting.

And he’s honest. He writes, “I’ve never had the sense that I’m writing for someone else. And I don’t particularly have that feeling even now.� Meaning: This book reads like a love song from Haruki to Haruki. That his legions of readers would love it just as well makes sense. Just know, if you go, that this book is not part of that large stable of books telling you how to write. It’s one man’s journey and, like any man’s journey, that alone can encourage you to write. Or not.

Also, be prepared for some score-settling between a Japanese writer and his country's literary gate keepers. Murakami has had the last laugh already, so I guess this is a victory lap of sorts, a dragging of Hector's body around Troy's battle-scarred walls.

I hope this review helps. If it doesn’t, that’s not my problem. (See, I can be Murakami-like myself! This review, after all, was written for me. If you enjoy, I'm very pleased, of course, but if not, SHRUG.)