There was a sense of stillness that permeated the story, the way time seemed to run in slo-mo throughout the book, leaving so much time for characters to ponder and think and think and think. Dipping into the book was like taking a dip in an icy pool, everything slowed. It was like opening a stack of russian dolls, unveiling puzzle within puzzle, struggling to get to the heart of the question.
I know there are loads of themes running through the book that you can discuss if you like, of religion, or freedom, of faith, of free will, of authorship and inspiration and writing. There are plots and subplots galore, interweaving the various themes, casting new light on each other, and on themselves.
And yet, simplified to its core, I like to think of 1Q84 as a love story, about 2 people crossing worlds to find each other, and carving a new world from their longing, and their love.