Ultimate romance novel that draws infinite loss and reproduction! Do not over think too much about everything. Putting a reasonable distance between everything and yourself. My new college life began in this way. Suicide best friend kizuki, that lover Naoko, the same undergraduate Midori. Works that made life-sized persons appear, to draw tremor, emotion, and sorrow of the heart until they are totally unreliable.
Haruki Murakami (村上春樹) is a Japanese writer. His novels, essays, and short stories have been best-sellers in Japan and internationally, with his work translated into 50 languages and having sold millions of copies outside Japan. He has received numerous awards for his work, including the Gunzo Prize for New Writers, the World Fantasy Award, the Tanizaki Prize, Yomiuri Prize for Literature, the Frank O'Connor International Short Story Award, the Noma Literary Prize, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Kiriyama Prize for Fiction, the Goodreads Choice Awards for Best Fiction, the Jerusalem Prize, and the Princess of Asturias Awards. Growing up in Ashiya, near Kobe before moving to Tokyo to attend Waseda University, he published his first novel Hear the Wind Sing (1979) after working as the owner of a small jazz bar for seven years. His notable works include the novels Norwegian Wood (1987), The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1994–95), Kafka on the Shore (2002) and 1Q84 (2009–10); the last was ranked as the best work of Japan's Heisei era (1989–2019) by the national newspaper Asahi Shimbun's survey of literary experts. His work spans genres including science fiction, fantasy, and crime fiction, and has become known for his use of magical realist elements. His official website cites Raymond Chandler, Kurt Vonnegut and Richard Brautigan as key inspirations to his work, while Murakami himself has named Kazuo Ishiguro, Cormac McCarthy and Dag Solstad as his favourite currently active writers. Murakami has also published five short story collections, including First Person Singular (2020), and non-fiction works including Underground (1997), an oral history of the Tokyo subway sarin attack, and What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (2007), a memoir about his experience as a long distance runner. His fiction has polarized literary critics and the reading public. He has sometimes been criticised by Japan's literary establishment as un-Japanese, leading to Murakami's recalling that he was a "black sheep in the Japanese literary world". Meanwhile, Murakami has been described by Gary Fisketjon, the editor of Murakami's collection The Elephant Vanishes (1993), as a "truly extraordinary writer", while Steven Poole of The Guardian praised Murakami as "among the world's greatest living novelists" for his oeuvre.
I used to have a Japanese tutor. I would drive over to her home, drink hot green tea, and sit in her cozy kitchen and work on my kanji. One day, as I plopped my bag down by my seat by the window, my tutor excitedly showed me two tiny paperbacks, one red, the other green. I noticed immediately that both books were autographed; she began to explain how she was friends with the author and that this novel, broken into two parts, was a huge success in Japan and I needed to read it.
Thus began my love affair with Haruki Murakami.
I was at the absolute perfect age, in the absolute most perfect situation, with just enough wide-eyed optimism to fall in love with Norwegian Wood. Every novel I read and every thought I had was shaped, significantly by the works of Haruki Murakami.
Twelve years later, I'm now thirty-three years old. I purchased, for probably way too much money, the same Alfred Birnbaum translated editions, just as red and just as green, the same copies I had read twelve years earlier. In rereading the text, I'm charmed by the memory of optimistic twenty-one year old Adam gripping this book, eagerly turning its pages. This book is an extension of me! I had been in love AND I've been lonely! I AM Toru Watanabe!
I can see why so many young people have had similar experiences with Norwegian Wood; it's super relateable and Murakami almost glorifies coming-of-age. Who hasn't felt alone amidst a crowded train, confused as to what the future may bring? Who hasn't lost someone close and suddenly felt confronted by the agonizing reality of death? Who hasn't tried to escape the truth only to be reminded that you can't keep running forever?
On page 222, Murakami perfectly conveys a twenty year old's coming-to-terms with death:
"When Kizuki died, his death taught me one thing. Something I took upon myself with resignation, or rather thought I'd taken on. And that was this: Death is not the opposite of life, but something underlying this life we live. This much is certain truth. That the very act of our living at the same time creates death...All we can do is suffer through it and hope to learn something from it, even though that lesson will be of no use alleviating the next unforeseeable onslaught of suffering."
None of this is mind-shattering. But that's the point. We all logically come to similar conclusions based on specific shared experiences. Friendship, love, happiness all lead to suffering. At twenty-one I found comfort reveling in this common wisdom.
At thirty three I find comfort in the memory of it.
The second volume (green book) is where the story soars to unexpected heights, and drowns in its bottomless abysses. I was prepared to hate this book through and through. However, in this volume, my initial disappointment gave way to appreciation of Haruki's dramatic sense and sensibility.
I was prepared to hate it but I didn't. Even if the characters wear their hearts on their breast pockets, are too honest in their raw tender feelings, too sensitive, too suicidal. What a heartwrecker of a book. Now all I need do is see the movie.
(I tried to read the two translations (by Alfred Birnbaum & Jay Rubin) side by side. There are interesting divergences between the two translations (e.g., word choice: "Storm Trooper" in Rubin's version is "Kamikaze" in Birnbaum's.). But the two translations are quite comparable really that I feel like I'm just rereading the whole thing. I ended up just reading the whole of the Birnbaum translation. I don't think Rubin improved on it.)
I would have given this book a higher rating if only the last couple of pages have been different. I really love Murakami's writing especially through the lens of Alfred Birnbaum's translation, but I just could not understand why the story ended as it did (with the happenings between Toru and Reiko I mean). Damn, I was ready to give it 5 stars up until the ending killed it.
Be that as it may, I still really enjoyed the story especially the parts with Midori as well as when Toru was just living inside his head. As expected I can best relate to characters going through loneliness and isolation so it wasn't surprising that I like this book. However, my favorite Murakami book remains to be The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. It was just more fluid, more dream-like, more resonant for me than any of his other works. It's also one of those books that I constantly think about and vividly remember reading. I guess I was expecting more along the same lines when I read Norwegian Wood even though I knew beforehand that it does not really have magic realism elements. I should really learn to manage my expectations. After all, I really enjoyed reading it and was really hooked by the beautiful writing. It just did not hit the spot for me.
I can not to this day set my finger on what charmed me with this book, but whatever it was, it dragged me through the book, and made me love it even more the more I read.
A book of grief, sadness, loneliness, and love. The characters in this book approach these feelings in very different ways, but ultimately they are all very similar—and they all seek human companionship. While this book is described as a romance novel, overwhelming more than romance I felt a primal human need for human connection in the midst of a lonely world that keeps moving forward regardless of whether or not you are moving with it. The characters beg each other to wait for them, but ultimately as the seasons change people (and lives) come and go—an inescapable part of being human. This humanness grounds this novel, what flaws the characters, and also what makes it so relatable to me as a reader also struggling with finding myself as a young adult approaching graduation.
However the protagonist made me extremely frustrated at many points in the novel, especially his treatment of Midori. It was so obvious how much she liked him (there were literally parts where she would directly say it and he would ask her what she meant in confusion all because she had a “boyfriend” that she clearly stated multiple times did not like as much as Watanabe) but he couldn’t see or treasure the present in front of him because he was too hung up on Naoko, the past, until Midori literally ignored him. However, even then once he finally admitted that he was incredibly lonely without her, whether or not it was just friendship or romance, he still could not give his 100% to her, ultimately hurting her too many times and making her wait too long. She should not have forgiven him as many times as she did.
Ultimately (as always in Murakami’s works) the female characters suffered a bit from Murakami’s interesting misogyny of sorts—every female character (even Reiko, I was rooting for her but she ultimately also fell victim to this) for some inexplicable reason has to have sex with the protagonist in order to free themselves and push the male character toward his growth. I honestly wish Midori could have just been a platonic relationship that was important but the multiple references and conversations about male sexuality and desires for sex versus romantic relationships and “love” do shed light a little on the psychology of different genders in heterosexual relationships.
Overall, other than the middle of the book, Norwegian Wood was able to grip me into its compelling story and was a very intriguing read on how grief and loneliness affects us and how we find comfort in each other (especially as beings with trauma that may seem to heal but never completely go away, remaining as scars in our memories and minds)
Continuing on part one: what could have been, came to be. Even though there was no drastic turn, no stark contrast with the first part, the second part managed to sweep me up. I enjoyed it more, but I wouldn't say it's inherently better. Part 2 needs part 1 just as much as the other way around. Even though the protagonist felt as soul dead as he ever did, he started to grow on me. Not having this forced on me in any way, my connection with Toru ended up feeling more robust. And same as for the first part, I savoured every bit of humor - making me hungry for more. What I perhaps loved most of all, was how dramatic turns were blended into the story: unexpectedly, with no warning whatsoever. Sure, half of those turns were expected in terms of story line, but came at a point were you had lowered your guard. Those turns where therefore emotionally disruptive, keeping me attentive and careful. The information on every suicide, some love confessions and some sexual turns, came sudden and raw. No unnecessary concoctions, no lead-up trying to soften - or season - the blow. The ending was unsettling: I didn't want it to end here, and couldn't even believe it for a minute, but then I accepted it was the right moment to end. Maybe the final Reiko part could have been left out, which seemed somewhat redundant, if not to smooth it all over. But to be honest I'm thankful it was included; humanising Toru still a bit more and saving us from a bitter aftertaste.
I still really enjoy this section of the novel, I even found myself not wanting the narrative to end, however, I give the second half of the book 4 stars instead of 5 mainly because:
- the teenage girl story I felt didn't really add much to the main narrative. It's shocking and it definitely left an impression on me, it's also taught me that not all beautiful girls are as they seem. Yet as a narrative device I'm a bit on the fence if it's needed.
- Midori reads a bit annoying. Maybe when I was younger and when I first read this novel, I would fancy myself falling for a girl like that, but now reading her character, something just seems a little off. Like she's trying a bit too hard, too sexually lewd, or I can't fully trust her. I used to root for her and Toru, but in this reading not as much.
The relationship with Reiko and what happens before the end of the novel doesn't seem like the right timing. In a way it's a bit off putting as its juxtaposed with Midori's relationship. It's fun and sensual to read, but it may seem a bit indulgent.
What I do like about this second half of the novel is the description of Hatsumi and the sunset, how Murakami connects life and death together, Toru eating cucumbers with Midori's dad and Midori recalling the scene of her father picking her up as a girl...the imagery is beautiful.
This is a story of 37 year old Toru, who has just landed in Germany and is reminded of his life when he was 17. He doesn't want to forget a single thought of his teenage love so he writes a book about it. Which is "Norwegian Wood" (the book you are currently deciding to read or not). The story is about an ordinary life but Haruki Murakami wrote it in such detail that i was absolutely engulfed in the plot and didn't want to put this beautiful story down. It covered topics that you would never find in teen books these days. It was a story that will always stay with me. Worth the read.
Trigger Warning this book contains major mental health issues including suicide.
The ending feels almost as the writer didn't want to continue the story anymore, dropped his pen and left it unfinished. How does the ending relate to the beginning of vol. 1?
I don't appreciate social acceptance of suicide, as a means to solve one's problems, in Japan. Vivid descriptions of sex scenes are not a type of conent I do enjoy, and from the point of story - they are unncessary.
Crying, shouting, vomiting, dying. I want to join a book club just to talk about this book.
Edit: i don’t really agree with having the mc fuck the what’s-her-name at the end. The woman is not only so much older, but has sexual trauma and was the guardian of mc’s gf. Also the gf was his best friend’s gf. Conflict of interest much? Morals of the story aside, I just didnt understand why the overcoming of past hurt and coming to terms with oneself and grief had to be symbolized by sex between two very platonic people. I think it ruins their friendship, unless they pursue something. Plus the mc has some other girl in mind too. Idk, just dissatisfied with the ending I guess, I know murakami loves to use sex as symbol of connection and some sort of character development in his books, but I just don’t agree with how sex was THE redeeming/concluding act for the surviving characters at the end.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
It's hard to figure out what to say here. This is one of those books that just.... stops. I guess I like neat endings to my books. This whole book seems very true to life, and therefore there is not much by way of plot. Murakami takes pains to actually leave strings hanging around, it seems. What ever happened to Kamikaze?
Of course in real life, people come and go. We never get the full story with people in life, so why should we in a book? Only because its what I'm used to, I guess. It was a beautiful and wonderful book, but also had too many graphic sex scenes for my liking. I can't wait to read more by Murakami, though. I like his mind, and can see why a book as simple as this was a sensation upon publication.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
It felt like a pretty authentic depiction of the mindset of a coming-of-age male. The story felt aimless and sort of lonely. I was annoyed at the naivety of the protagonist and the way he carelessly maneuvers through his relationships, seeming to almost completely disregard the seriousness of life and his future. But I also sympathize with him in a kind of nostalgic, ah-yes-we've-all-been-there kind of way. I never felt overly mesmerized or gripped, but it felt honest and real.
It is... so dark. And a truly sad story. It’s so sad that makes it so beautiful. I was gonna rate it 3.5 stars, cause it’s not really my type of book. BUT, thinking of Haruki San as a Japanese author writing down this explicit novel in 1986-87 is actually a great deal!