å£ã¨åµ - æ± ç”°ä¿¡å¤« blogæ‘上春樹ã®ã‚¨ãƒ«ã‚µãƒ¬ãƒ 賞å—賞スピーãƒã®ä¸€éƒ¨ãŒã€ç¾åœ°ç´™ã«å‡ºã¦ã„る。当然「曖昧ã ã€ã¨ã‹ã€Œæ··ä¹±ã™ã‚‹ã€ã¨ã‹å¦å®šçš„ã«è«–è©•ã—ã¦ã„ã‚‹ãŒã€æŠ„録ã¨ã—ã¦ã¯ã‚‚ã£ã¨ã‚‚é•·ã„ã®ã§ã€ã‚¹ãƒ”ーãƒã®éƒ¨åˆ†ã‚’ãã®ã¾ã¾å¼•ç”¨ã—ã¦ãŠã“ã†ï¼šSo I have come to Jerusalem. I have a come as a novelist, that is - a spinner of lies. Novelists aren't the only ones who tell lies - politicians do (sorry, Mr. President) - and diplomats, too. But something distinguishes the novelists from the others. We aren't prosecuted for our lies: we are praised.
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