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With The Beatles
‘With the Beatles’ van Haruki Murakami gaat over een naamloze, oudere verteller die terug denkt aan twee bepalende liefdes uit zijn jeugd – de ene niet meer dan een obsessie, de andere een belangrijke leerschool. ‘Er zijn mensen die stellen dat de periode waarin popsongs het diepst binnenkomen en je het meest vervullen, de gelukkigste tijd van een mensenleven is. Misschien is dat zo. Misschien ook niet.’
65 pages, Hardcover
First published February 17, 2020
8 people are currently reading
617 people want to read
About the author
Haruki Murakami
608 books134k followersHaruki 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.
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.
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May 25, 2020
The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being.
"With the Beatles" is an ode to life in the middle of Beatlemania. The first memory of that era that Murakami recalls is of a girl holding onto an original copy of the Beatles' LP "With The Beatles", hence the naming. He talks at length about his relationship with a certain girl. She like making out to Percy Faith, he like jazz. But they were together nonetheless. He writes of a strange meeting with the girl's older brother, about whom he barely knew anything. But the meeting somehow had an impact on both of them.
“You know something?” she said to me on the sofa, in a small voice, as if she were making a confession. “I’m the really jealous type.”
Teenage love ends as teenage love does. They walk into movie theaters hand-in-hand listen to Percy Faith's opening of A Summer Place and make out. And then one day it all ends. Years later, our writer has a chance encounter with the brother of his then girlfriend. They strike up a conversation, bringing back a flood of memories. Memories that are forever lost in the Beatlemania years.
January 8, 2021
صورةْ ما...طيف حلم يرتسم على إحدى جدران ردهات الذاكرة...يأتيك على نحو مُباغت من وقت لاخر ..يستولي عليك الإحساس بأن ثمة ما يربطك بذاك المشهد على نحو غامض لكن هنالك رسالة ما كانت لابد أن تصلك وقد تستلمها وقد تنزلق من بين أصابعك...وقد تفقدها ويبقى المشهد عالقاً هناك...
وبما أن الذاكرة هى الفخ الأكبر ، فماذا لو التقيت بأحدهم حيث تتلاشى ذاكرته عند نقطة معينة...تتوقف صيرورة الحدث...يتجمد الزمن ومن ثم ينتقل لنقطة ما بذات المسار ، لم يحيد عنه...ولكن بعدما يكون هنالك ما اختفى ما قبلها... كما لو ابتلعه شيء ما..وتنقطع الذاكرة ويحاول بأن يتحكم بذاته أمام ألم فقدان الذاكرة...
ترى أيهما أشق على المرء وأشد ايلاماً...أن يلتصق بروحك ذكرى ما أو قد تنقطع ذاكرتك لبرهة وتختفي في أحد الأدراج .. ؟
تصطحبك هنا موسيقى أغاني فرقة " البيتلز "وهى تُعزف في الخلفية....سيمضي الوقت سريعاً كما هو الحال دوماُ عند زيارتك لعالم موراكامي...
وبما أن الذاكرة هى الفخ الأكبر ، فماذا لو التقيت بأحدهم حيث تتلاشى ذاكرته عند نقطة معينة...تتوقف صيرورة الحدث...يتجمد الزمن ومن ثم ينتقل لنقطة ما بذات المسار ، لم يحيد عنه...ولكن بعدما يكون هنالك ما اختفى ما قبلها... كما لو ابتلعه شيء ما..وتنقطع الذاكرة ويحاول بأن يتحكم بذاته أمام ألم فقدان الذاكرة...
ترى أيهما أشق على المرء وأشد ايلاماً...أن يلتصق بروحك ذكرى ما أو قد تنقطع ذاكرتك لبرهة وتختفي في أحد الأدراج .. ؟
تصطحبك هنا موسيقى أغاني فرقة " البيتلز "وهى تُعزف في الخلفية....سيمضي الوقت سريعاً كما هو الحال دوماُ عند زيارتك لعالم موراكامي...
September 18, 2020
Thanks to the translated version uploaded on Zzz Review that I know about this short story of H.M. Turns out it was just published on The New Yorker on the 17th of this month, so it's less than 10 days since the story came out that I have access to it, it makes me feel that I'm quite lucky. Despite the fact that the Vietnamese translation is the first version that I heard of, in the end I chose to read the English version, even though it's a translation, too. You may ask why the English, after all, both of them are translations, none is original so what's the point? What's the difference? Well, after having read the beginning of both of them, I had a thought that the English translation is somewhat nearer to H.M's writing style that I always know. I found an article saying that his prose sounds more English than Japanese even in its original, Japanese text, maybe that's the reason.
I have to say that the Viet translation is not my type, the translator used too many words that show emotions which can only found in Viet, perhaps it's their style or their intention, I'm not sure. In contrast, H.M's writing in my mind is something showing not many emotions in words, even emotionless sometimes. But I still appreciate that translation, thanks to it, I can understand the story better, and because I did try translating some time I completely comprehend the difficulties of the work.
Speak of the story, perhaps it's pretty new, so there're not many reviews on its Goodreads page, and most of the reviews are merely some quotes from the story, I found it's quite funny. Personally, I enjoyed the story but I can't say that I like it, not much as other books of him, I wonder if it's because it's a short story? I myself love the girlfriend's older brother character and everything about him, his eccentric personality, his memory lapse illness, his fondness to the reading-aloud-version of Akutagawa’s story, even his regret for his sister's death.
In brief, it's still "Murakami", and so its details and plot are predictable. The detail where our protagonist hears of the death of his former girlfriend makes me feel like the story is nothing more than a mini version of Colorless Tazaki Tsukuru. But still, reading "With the Beatles" is an enjoyment for those who loves H.M's writing.
I have to say that the Viet translation is not my type, the translator used too many words that show emotions which can only found in Viet, perhaps it's their style or their intention, I'm not sure. In contrast, H.M's writing in my mind is something showing not many emotions in words, even emotionless sometimes. But I still appreciate that translation, thanks to it, I can understand the story better, and because I did try translating some time I completely comprehend the difficulties of the work.
Speak of the story, perhaps it's pretty new, so there're not many reviews on its Goodreads page, and most of the reviews are merely some quotes from the story, I found it's quite funny. Personally, I enjoyed the story but I can't say that I like it, not much as other books of him, I wonder if it's because it's a short story? I myself love the girlfriend's older brother character and everything about him, his eccentric personality, his memory lapse illness, his fondness to the reading-aloud-version of Akutagawa’s story, even his regret for his sister's death.
In brief, it's still "Murakami", and so its details and plot are predictable. The detail where our protagonist hears of the death of his former girlfriend makes me feel like the story is nothing more than a mini version of Colorless Tazaki Tsukuru. But still, reading "With the Beatles" is an enjoyment for those who loves H.M's writing.
July 10, 2021
دائما ما يذكرنا موراكامي أننا عبارة عن مجموعة ذكريات ثم تأتي بعدها أشياء أخرى
فبعض الذكريات لا تمحى حتى وان كانت تافهة لا معنى لها ولكنها غامضة تجذبنا لها
وبعض الذكريات نحيا فيها امدا بعيدا ثم تندرج في الذاكرة الخلفية في بعض الادراج هناك قبل سلة مهملات الذاكرة سيأتي عليها الدور لتكون داخل سلة المهملات ان لم يحدث شيئا ليذكرنا بها مع اننا عشنا معها لسنوات في الماضي
على العكس من ذلك نتذكر ذكرى مرت علينا لدقيقة واحدة او ثوان معدودة ولا ننساها ابدا
لقد حبست أنفاسي وظننت ان البطل سيقتل بمطرقة على الرأس في وسط القصة وفي نهايتها
موراكامي يأخذ بيدك الى داخل القصة او الرواية ولا تملك بعد دقائق الا تقرأ كالمسحور فعالم موراكامي غريب حقا وطريقته في الكتابة أخاذه
غريب انت يا موراكامي ولكنك لذيذ
فبعض الذكريات لا تمحى حتى وان كانت تافهة لا معنى لها ولكنها غامضة تجذبنا لها
وبعض الذكريات نحيا فيها امدا بعيدا ثم تندرج في الذاكرة الخلفية في بعض الادراج هناك قبل سلة مهملات الذاكرة سيأتي عليها الدور لتكون داخل سلة المهملات ان لم يحدث شيئا ليذكرنا بها مع اننا عشنا معها لسنوات في الماضي
على العكس من ذلك نتذكر ذكرى مرت علينا لدقيقة واحدة او ثوان معدودة ولا ننساها ابدا
لقد حبست أنفاسي وظننت ان البطل سيقتل بمطرقة على الرأس في وسط القصة وفي نهايتها
موراكامي يأخذ بيدك الى داخل القصة او الرواية ولا تملك بعد دقائق الا تقرأ كالمسحور فعالم موراكامي غريب حقا وطريقته في الكتابة أخاذه
غريب انت يا موراكامي ولكنك لذيذ
July 3, 2021
لوهلة اعتقدت ان شقيق حبيبته سوف يقتله بالمطرقة 😂
💫
"عندما أفشل في إيجاد هذا الإحساس في العالم الحقيقي، أدع ذكراي لتلك المشاعر تصحو بداخلي بهدوء. وبهذه الطريقة تصبح الذاكرة واحدةً من أقيَم ذّرائعي العاطفية، بل وسيلةٌ للنجاة. مثل هُرَيرَةٍ دافئة، تنزلق بنعومةٍ في جيب معطفٍ ضخم، وتغط سريعًا في النوم" 🌼
💫
"عندما أفشل في إيجاد هذا الإحساس في العالم الحقيقي، أدع ذكراي لتلك المشاعر تصحو بداخلي بهدوء. وبهذه الطريقة تصبح الذاكرة واحدةً من أقيَم ذّرائعي العاطفية، بل وسيلةٌ للنجاة. مثل هُرَيرَةٍ دافئة، تنزلق بنعومةٍ في جيب معطفٍ ضخم، وتغط سريعًا في النوم" 🌼
January 23, 2024
এই বড়গল্পটাকে নিয়ে আলাদা করে কিছু লেখা দরকার।
মুরাকামি আমার খুব ব্যক্তিগত একটা জায়গায় আঘাত হানে, বারবার। গল্পটা উত্তম পুরুষে লেখা, আর এই গল্পের এক বিশাল অংশ জুড়ে মূল চরিত্রের প্রাক্তন বিদ্যমান। ঘটনাপ্রবাহ হয়ত অনেককেই নরওয়েজিয়ান উডের প্রথম অংশের কথা মনে করাবে।
গল্পটা পড়া অনেকাংশেই তাই নস্টালজিক ছিল।
পুরো গল্পই নস্টালজিয়া নিয়ে লেখা, আর পড়তে গিয়ে পাঠক হিসাবে আমিও নস্টালজিক হয়ে গেলাম। এইটাকে বড়সড় একটা উইন-ই ধরা লাগবে।
গল্পের মাঝে মুরাকামি সাহেব উনার স্বভাবমতো অনেক আবোলতাবোল বকসেন। তেমন পার্ফেক্ট স্ট্রাকচারও না। তবে এইগুলা পড়তে খারাপ লাগে না বলে ক্ষমা করা যায়।
পাঁচ তারা না দিয়ে পারতেসি না, নস্টালজিয়ার দাম অনেক(বিশেষত নরওয়েজিয়ান উড যখন আমার অনেক প্রিয় উপন্যাস)।
মুরাকামি আমার খুব ব্যক্তিগত একটা জায়গায় আঘাত হানে, বারবার। গল্পটা উত্তম পুরুষে লেখা, আর এই গল্পের এক বিশাল অংশ জুড়ে মূল চরিত্রের প্রাক্তন বিদ্যমান। ঘটনাপ্রবাহ হয়ত অনেককেই নরওয়েজিয়ান উডের প্রথম অংশের কথা মনে করাবে।
গল্পটা পড়া অনেকাংশেই তাই নস্টালজিক ছিল।
পুরো গল্পই নস্টালজিয়া নিয়ে লেখা, আর পড়তে গিয়ে পাঠক হিসাবে আমিও নস্টালজিক হয়ে গেলাম। এইটাকে বড়সড় একটা উইন-ই ধরা লাগবে।
গল্পের মাঝে মুরাকামি সাহেব উনার স্বভাবমতো অনেক আবোলতাবোল বকসেন। তেমন পার্ফেক্ট স্ট্রাকচারও না। তবে এইগুলা পড়তে খারাপ লাগে না বলে ক্ষমা করা যায়।
পাঁচ তারা না দিয়ে পারতেসি না, নস্টালজিয়ার দাম অনেক(বিশেষত নরওয়েজিয়ান উড যখন আমার অনেক প্রিয় উপন্যাস)।
May 1, 2021
"I think what makes me feel sad about the girls I knew growing old is that it forces me to admit, all over again, that my youthful dreams are gone forever. The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being."
A beautiful short and sad story where the narrator reminiscing his high school days, Beatles music, death of his ex girlfriend and etc. It's a treat for music and book lovers.
A beautiful short and sad story where the narrator reminiscing his high school days, Beatles music, death of his ex girlfriend and etc. It's a treat for music and book lovers.
September 2, 2020
3.5 rounded down
Classic Murakami - jazz, vague girlfriends, writers - without the issues that have marred his recent fiction.
Classic Murakami - jazz, vague girlfriends, writers - without the issues that have marred his recent fiction.
May 30, 2020
I ain't a Murakami fan, or more accurately I'm just a fan of the very short lived version of Murakami who wrote "Norwegian Wood". I read that book at the right age: still young, meandering through relationships and a life I couldn't connect properly with, while still retaining some now long burned out hope. Oddly, that novel is one of the least Murakami-ish of his books, of those I've read at least. While I loved some of his other stuff, particularly "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" and "Kafka on the Shore", I grew tired of him when my mind couldn't put away the knowledge that Murakami wasn't going to fulfill one of the novelist's contracts: he keeps throwing shit in that just popped up in his mind right at that time (some of which include picturing a nice pair of breasts and describing them at length), and most of it will never pay off. It's not so much magical realism as just capturing the subconscious ebbs and flows of interests but in a format in which you are forced to tell a well connected story. It works for many people, obviously, but it never did again for me.
"Norwegian Wood" was real because it came from the author's shame and guilt, his wish to have been able to understand some people in the hope that they could have been saved from themselves, or from the inevitable disappointing future that this life, one in which we are destined to grow old and die, awaits to smack us in the face with. To my surprise, this essay involves a now old Murakami (he's 71) looking back at some, or most, of what marked him during the sixties, exactly the era depicted in "Norwegian Wood". Although lacking the proper weight and coherence, because life is washed out like that, we meet a few people whose significant traits, mashed up together, ended up becoming the doomed, mentally ill girlfriend; the mostly random and odd, but hiding a broken family life, Midori; even the protagonist who seemed to daze through his life without ever daring to commit himself to anything or anyone, and whose words were rarely in sync with his deeper inner life.
Human lives being as ridiculous as they tend to be, Murakami tells us how the image of a sixteen year old girl who attended his high school made bells ring in his ears, fall in love instantaneously, and that exact moment, of the girl in a dimly lit school hallway, a bright smile on her lips, and clutching a Beatles album to her chest, became the standard of measurement for his following relationships. But he never saw that girl again, nor he ever, apparently, managed to feel the same genuine desire to the depths of his being with anyone. With the females he ended up dating he had to work or fake plenty of it, sometimes staying with them because it seemed better than staying alone, yet knowing that some day they would part ways. "Norwegian Wood" opens with an echo of that moment: the aged protagonist hears a Beatles song and is overwhelmed by the nostalgia of the formative events that he spends the rest of the novel telling us about. Life could have been better, you could have been properly happy, but it never was and you never were.
When I was a tween and later on a teenager, I used to visit a place about thrice a year. While I was hiding from people as I couldn't connect with any of them, a pattern that will always remain, I remember staring at a picture taken back in the seventies. In there there was a maybe fourteen year old girl in a sunday dress, smiling subtly. She was beautiful (this wouldn't work if she hadn't been). When I began focusing on her still image, she was older. The last time I saw her, I had four years on her. There was a deepness to her eyes that made me feel as if she were the only real human being. My unconscious hope, and I desperately needed to grasp to any hope during years that were beyond miserable, was that some day I would meet someone that would elicit in me the same feelings, someone I wouldn't have to fake an interest in, particularly difficult for someone like me who barely cares about human beings. When I was around eighteen years old I visited that place for the last time, and I'll never see her again. I never did meet her in any form: the personal relationships I've had taught me the lesson that I'm not made for personal relationships. At this point of my life, in my mid thirties even though I never thought I would survive my twenties, I can't even hold the illusion that all this desiring and many other atypical human behaviors like creating art are anything else than expressions of the only force that guides our existence as living beings: that of needing to find a mate and reproduce ourselves, which is the only drive of life, and an unconscious one at that. Still, those symptoms bring you joy from time to time. We are intelligent enough to know we grow old and die. If we weren't driven by delusions, we wouldn't have survived this long.
Murakami walks us through a relationship he had as a teen with a girl. He never properly understood her, and their musical interests were quite different. He resented that he didn't feel that spark with her, and knew that some day he would walk away. One of those sundays he had gone up to her house as they were supposed to go out on a date. She wasn't home, though. Only his older brother was there, a person she rarely spoke about. He seems to be something of a hikikomori. Murakami reluctantly agrees to wait for his girlfriend inside. With nothing to do but read whatever is at hand, he leafes through an Akutagawa short story from his Japanese textbook. The brother sits down and asks Murakami to please read that story out loud. Murakami is uncomfortable and a bit creeped out, but reads Akutagawa's short, his last one before he killed himself in his thirties (apparently he hanged himself shortly after finishing the last sentence). This experience of making someone else experience a story must have marked Murakami. When the story ends, and some spoilers from real life from now on, the brother opens up about having developed a brain condition of sorts. He claims that for a few years he had experienced blackouts, losing chunks of memory, and he feared what he could end up doing during those periods. The example, hammering someone to death, creeped Murakami enough to just keep muttering naruhodo (I see) to his monologue. Since the brother's mind became disordered, he quit school and barely left the house. The conversation ended cordially enough, and Murakami left. Some time later his girlfriend told him that he had confused the dates, although he didn't believe that to be the case.
When Murakami went to college, he fell in love with a girl there while he was still dating his girlfriend. He remembers the day they drove up to some scenic place and he broke the news to her. She seemed to take it stoically, as in "there isn't anything I can do, so I'll just move on". Many years later, when Murakami was my exact age (35), he ended up meeting that girl's brother hundreds of miles from the town they used to live in. The brother said that he had been cured of his mental condition (which probably was a mental illness, or a breakdown in any case) and ended up living a nice enough life. When Murakami asks about the guy's sister, he makes him sit down comfortably. Three years back she had killed herself. After she broke up with Murakami, she went to college, from there straight to a job in the insurance business, married a colleague, had two children, and one day she gulped down her entire supply of sleeping pills, many more than a single bottle, and died. Nobody in her life knew why. She had never seemed depressed. Her brother comments that she was the kind that even if everybody else in the world had died, she would have kept going. The brother laments that he never really understood her, nor connected with her. He tells Murakami that it was clear for him that of all the people his sister had been with, she had wanted Murakami the most. Murakami knows, a terrible thing to know, that if he had kept dating this woman he hadn't felt the spark for, she would likely had endured for a while longer in this cosmic slaughterhouse. What else is there to elaborate on? You tear from yourself the spreading rot before it kills you.
I had the feeling that this episode prompted Murakami to write "Norwegian Wood", and it was clearly the case: he learned about his old girlfriend's suicide when he was 35, and he published that novel in 1987, when he was 38. That a novel written to purge his pain, guilt and shame ended up making him probably the best known Japanese novelist is one of those things art does: it feeds off suffering, and the more the creator suffered, the most poignant the end result tends to be. The worse you are at handling your existence as a human being, the taller your creative expression stands. Millions of monuments to pain displayed in museums and publicized as commodities.
Although I've fallen out with Murakami's works, his words always feel intimate because he lacks artifice. As a writer, maybe as a person, he doesn't seem to care for anything except what interests him or moves him, no matter how long that focus lasts, nor whether it would affect the whole. You either take him as he is or shoot him in the head and abandon him to bleed out in a ditch. Fortunately for him, he has made a very lucrative career out of it.
"Norwegian Wood" was real because it came from the author's shame and guilt, his wish to have been able to understand some people in the hope that they could have been saved from themselves, or from the inevitable disappointing future that this life, one in which we are destined to grow old and die, awaits to smack us in the face with. To my surprise, this essay involves a now old Murakami (he's 71) looking back at some, or most, of what marked him during the sixties, exactly the era depicted in "Norwegian Wood". Although lacking the proper weight and coherence, because life is washed out like that, we meet a few people whose significant traits, mashed up together, ended up becoming the doomed, mentally ill girlfriend; the mostly random and odd, but hiding a broken family life, Midori; even the protagonist who seemed to daze through his life without ever daring to commit himself to anything or anyone, and whose words were rarely in sync with his deeper inner life.
Human lives being as ridiculous as they tend to be, Murakami tells us how the image of a sixteen year old girl who attended his high school made bells ring in his ears, fall in love instantaneously, and that exact moment, of the girl in a dimly lit school hallway, a bright smile on her lips, and clutching a Beatles album to her chest, became the standard of measurement for his following relationships. But he never saw that girl again, nor he ever, apparently, managed to feel the same genuine desire to the depths of his being with anyone. With the females he ended up dating he had to work or fake plenty of it, sometimes staying with them because it seemed better than staying alone, yet knowing that some day they would part ways. "Norwegian Wood" opens with an echo of that moment: the aged protagonist hears a Beatles song and is overwhelmed by the nostalgia of the formative events that he spends the rest of the novel telling us about. Life could have been better, you could have been properly happy, but it never was and you never were.
When I was a tween and later on a teenager, I used to visit a place about thrice a year. While I was hiding from people as I couldn't connect with any of them, a pattern that will always remain, I remember staring at a picture taken back in the seventies. In there there was a maybe fourteen year old girl in a sunday dress, smiling subtly. She was beautiful (this wouldn't work if she hadn't been). When I began focusing on her still image, she was older. The last time I saw her, I had four years on her. There was a deepness to her eyes that made me feel as if she were the only real human being. My unconscious hope, and I desperately needed to grasp to any hope during years that were beyond miserable, was that some day I would meet someone that would elicit in me the same feelings, someone I wouldn't have to fake an interest in, particularly difficult for someone like me who barely cares about human beings. When I was around eighteen years old I visited that place for the last time, and I'll never see her again. I never did meet her in any form: the personal relationships I've had taught me the lesson that I'm not made for personal relationships. At this point of my life, in my mid thirties even though I never thought I would survive my twenties, I can't even hold the illusion that all this desiring and many other atypical human behaviors like creating art are anything else than expressions of the only force that guides our existence as living beings: that of needing to find a mate and reproduce ourselves, which is the only drive of life, and an unconscious one at that. Still, those symptoms bring you joy from time to time. We are intelligent enough to know we grow old and die. If we weren't driven by delusions, we wouldn't have survived this long.
Murakami walks us through a relationship he had as a teen with a girl. He never properly understood her, and their musical interests were quite different. He resented that he didn't feel that spark with her, and knew that some day he would walk away. One of those sundays he had gone up to her house as they were supposed to go out on a date. She wasn't home, though. Only his older brother was there, a person she rarely spoke about. He seems to be something of a hikikomori. Murakami reluctantly agrees to wait for his girlfriend inside. With nothing to do but read whatever is at hand, he leafes through an Akutagawa short story from his Japanese textbook. The brother sits down and asks Murakami to please read that story out loud. Murakami is uncomfortable and a bit creeped out, but reads Akutagawa's short, his last one before he killed himself in his thirties (apparently he hanged himself shortly after finishing the last sentence). This experience of making someone else experience a story must have marked Murakami. When the story ends, and some spoilers from real life from now on, the brother opens up about having developed a brain condition of sorts. He claims that for a few years he had experienced blackouts, losing chunks of memory, and he feared what he could end up doing during those periods. The example, hammering someone to death, creeped Murakami enough to just keep muttering naruhodo (I see) to his monologue. Since the brother's mind became disordered, he quit school and barely left the house. The conversation ended cordially enough, and Murakami left. Some time later his girlfriend told him that he had confused the dates, although he didn't believe that to be the case.
When Murakami went to college, he fell in love with a girl there while he was still dating his girlfriend. He remembers the day they drove up to some scenic place and he broke the news to her. She seemed to take it stoically, as in "there isn't anything I can do, so I'll just move on". Many years later, when Murakami was my exact age (35), he ended up meeting that girl's brother hundreds of miles from the town they used to live in. The brother said that he had been cured of his mental condition (which probably was a mental illness, or a breakdown in any case) and ended up living a nice enough life. When Murakami asks about the guy's sister, he makes him sit down comfortably. Three years back she had killed herself. After she broke up with Murakami, she went to college, from there straight to a job in the insurance business, married a colleague, had two children, and one day she gulped down her entire supply of sleeping pills, many more than a single bottle, and died. Nobody in her life knew why. She had never seemed depressed. Her brother comments that she was the kind that even if everybody else in the world had died, she would have kept going. The brother laments that he never really understood her, nor connected with her. He tells Murakami that it was clear for him that of all the people his sister had been with, she had wanted Murakami the most. Murakami knows, a terrible thing to know, that if he had kept dating this woman he hadn't felt the spark for, she would likely had endured for a while longer in this cosmic slaughterhouse. What else is there to elaborate on? You tear from yourself the spreading rot before it kills you.
I had the feeling that this episode prompted Murakami to write "Norwegian Wood", and it was clearly the case: he learned about his old girlfriend's suicide when he was 35, and he published that novel in 1987, when he was 38. That a novel written to purge his pain, guilt and shame ended up making him probably the best known Japanese novelist is one of those things art does: it feeds off suffering, and the more the creator suffered, the most poignant the end result tends to be. The worse you are at handling your existence as a human being, the taller your creative expression stands. Millions of monuments to pain displayed in museums and publicized as commodities.
Although I've fallen out with Murakami's works, his words always feel intimate because he lacks artifice. As a writer, maybe as a person, he doesn't seem to care for anything except what interests him or moves him, no matter how long that focus lasts, nor whether it would affect the whole. You either take him as he is or shoot him in the head and abandon him to bleed out in a ditch. Fortunately for him, he has made a very lucrative career out of it.
January 3, 2021
3,0 ⭐️
April 28, 2020
Beautifully written with music as a theme throughout.. a middle aged man looking back on idealized youth, unrealized dreams , the unreliability of memory, chance encounters and the expendability of life.
The story starts off happy, rather Dreamlike, filled with the Beatles music and nostalgia. As the story progresses the tension rises and it seems as if a murder may intrude. It doesn’t .. years pass quickly and past meets present through a chance encounter leaving the reader thinking how wonderful it is to read Murakami.
The story starts off happy, rather Dreamlike, filled with the Beatles music and nostalgia. As the story progresses the tension rises and it seems as if a murder may intrude. It doesn’t .. years pass quickly and past meets present through a chance encounter leaving the reader thinking how wonderful it is to read Murakami.
June 17, 2020
A lovely and sad story about memories, love and madness, beautifully written.
“What pulled me in was the vision of that girl clutching the album as if it were something priceless. Take away the photograph on the album cover and the scene might not have bewitched me as it did. There was the music, for sure. But there was something else, something far bigger. And, in an instant, that tableau was etched in my heart—a kind of spiritual landscape that could be found only there, at a set age, in a set place, and at a set moment in time.”
“What pulled me in was the vision of that girl clutching the album as if it were something priceless. Take away the photograph on the album cover and the scene might not have bewitched me as it did. There was the music, for sure. But there was something else, something far bigger. And, in an instant, that tableau was etched in my heart—a kind of spiritual landscape that could be found only there, at a set age, in a set place, and at a set moment in time.”
April 15, 2023
Great prose and I did like the motifs, I think there's more I could analyze about them but I don't feel like it. ANYWAYS good.
December 14, 2020
Yo, With the Beatles was actually pretty good. In the beginning, it seems like a typical Murakami story about a guy who falls in love with an unattainable girl. From that, you think the story would center on romance. Well, it does and it doesn't all at the same time. This story has a strange structure to it that is a little confusing at first. Murakami starts the story off one way, then goes on a whole bunch of tangents that do not really have anything to do with the opening paragraphs. So, I was kinda sitting there like, "what even is this story about?" However, once you get to the end, it just hits you, and I am still thinking about some of the ideas that were mentioned. I really enjoyed it, but if you are not a fan of writing that is a little all over the place, this may not be for you.
Also, if you are a fan of music, this short story has a ton of references to The Beatles and other musical acts. There are whole paragraphs where Murakami mentions songs and albums from various artists in the '60s. Again, these are more of the tangents that he goes on, but I found them to be interesting.
This receives a solid 4-stars from me! If you would like to read it, here is the link: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/20... 💚
Also, if you are a fan of music, this short story has a ton of references to The Beatles and other musical acts. There are whole paragraphs where Murakami mentions songs and albums from various artists in the '60s. Again, these are more of the tangents that he goes on, but I found them to be interesting.
This receives a solid 4-stars from me! If you would like to read it, here is the link: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/20... 💚
July 7, 2021
(وربما حياتنا هي مجرد أشياء مُزينة مستهلكة، كانفجارٍ للونٍ يظهر ثم يتلاشى لا أكثر)
-قصة شيقة ، أساسها لعبة العمر و الذاكرة في حياة المرء.
(ما أراه غريبًا في التقدم بالعمر ليس أنّي غدوت عجوزًا، ولا أن نسختي الشابة من الماضي قد بلغت من العمر عتيًا دون أن أُدرك. ما يُزلزلني هو كيف غدا أناسٌ من نفس جيلي هَرِمين، وكيف أصبحت الفتيات الجميلات الفاتنات عجائز كفاية لدرجة أنهن يحظين بحفيدٍ أو اثنين. الأمر مُربك، بل حزينٌ بالأحرى. رغم عدم شعوري بالحزن جَرَّاء حقيقة أنني تقدمتُ في العمر بالمثل)
(عندما أفشل في إيجاد هذا الإحساس في العالم الحقيقي، أدع ذكراي لتلك المشاعر تصحو بداخلي بهدوء. وبهذه الطريقة تصبح الذاكرة واحدةً من أقيَم ذّرائعي العاطفية، بل وسيلةٌ للنجاة. مثل هُرَيرَةٍ دافئة، تنزلق بنعومةٍ في جيب معطفٍ ضخم، وتغط سريعًا في النوم.)
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-قصة شيقة ، أساسها لعبة العمر و الذاكرة في حياة المرء.
(ما أراه غريبًا في التقدم بالعمر ليس أنّي غدوت عجوزًا، ولا أن نسختي الشابة من الماضي قد بلغت من العمر عتيًا دون أن أُدرك. ما يُزلزلني هو كيف غدا أناسٌ من نفس جيلي هَرِمين، وكيف أصبحت الفتيات الجميلات الفاتنات عجائز كفاية لدرجة أنهن يحظين بحفيدٍ أو اثنين. الأمر مُربك، بل حزينٌ بالأحرى. رغم عدم شعوري بالحزن جَرَّاء حقيقة أنني تقدمتُ في العمر بالمثل)
(عندما أفشل في إيجاد هذا الإحساس في العالم الحقيقي، أدع ذكراي لتلك المشاعر تصحو بداخلي بهدوء. وبهذه الطريقة تصبح الذاكرة واحدةً من أقيَم ذّرائعي العاطفية، بل وسيلةٌ للنجاة. مثل هُرَيرَةٍ دافئة، تنزلق بنعومةٍ في جيب معطفٍ ضخم، وتغط سريعًا في النوم.)
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May 19, 2020
Why do we choose fleeting memories over someone that had been with us all along? And when theyre gone, that's when we realize that we took things for granted. The ordinary gestures and nuances suddenly became nostalgic.
Maybe, its because we are always after what is missing. That all it takes is a vivid memory of that someone, enough to captivate our senses and take us back. So precious, that we perpetualize the pensiveness it brings.
Isn't it bittersweet to imagine that the people you knew who were strangers from each other suddenly had a certain connection merely from the memories of you? And never did when youre still around?
Maybe, its because we are always after what is missing. That all it takes is a vivid memory of that someone, enough to captivate our senses and take us back. So precious, that we perpetualize the pensiveness it brings.
Isn't it bittersweet to imagine that the people you knew who were strangers from each other suddenly had a certain connection merely from the memories of you? And never did when youre still around?
December 22, 2020
In dit korte verhaal van Haruki Murakami overschouwt het hoofdpersonage (Haruki zelf maar het is onduidelijk of de herinnering echt is) de herinneringen aan een meisje in het middelbaar, dat hij onverwacht tegenkwam in de schoolgang met de lp "With the Beatles" tegen de borst geklemd, en aan zijn eerste vriendinnetje. In het eenvoudig verhaal tovert hij prachtige momentopname tevoorschijn en vertelt daarmee iets over het universele karakter van wat herinneringen uitmaken.
April 12, 2021
Weer zo’n zalig mooie uitgave van een kort Murakami-verhaal over een jeugdherinnering!
September 25, 2021
“The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being.”
December 3, 2022
Ooit las ik Norwegian Wood, die ik halverwege aan de kant legde. Toen begreep ik het niet zo of pakte het me niet. Nu geef ik Murakami weer een kans en: gelukkig maar. Dit fantastische nostalgische korte verhaal smaakt wel naar meer.
February 8, 2021
Great writing, but the plot/story lacked control/precision. I think it'd be more beautiful if he had cut one or two pointless girlfriends out and also tighten up the ending more.
September 24, 2025
4.0 / 5.0
Read this story in the middle of the night with Beatles songs playing in the background, forming a sort of 'musical wallpaper' to the whole experience as he himself had so eloquently expressed here. Murakami is not a great writer. But he is my comfort writer. The older I grow the less his whimsical descriptions of life seems to have a hold on me. I am a very practical, boring person afterall. But it doesn't matter. Nostalgia is worth something. Let's take his 'Norwegian Wood' for example. It did not need to be a revolutionary work of literature, it's already way more important to me than that by the virue of being the book I brought as a gift on the first date I went with the first boy I loved. Can't wait to reread and reread Murakami throughout the years.
~ 24 September 2025
Read this story in the middle of the night with Beatles songs playing in the background, forming a sort of 'musical wallpaper' to the whole experience as he himself had so eloquently expressed here. Murakami is not a great writer. But he is my comfort writer. The older I grow the less his whimsical descriptions of life seems to have a hold on me. I am a very practical, boring person afterall. But it doesn't matter. Nostalgia is worth something. Let's take his 'Norwegian Wood' for example. It did not need to be a revolutionary work of literature, it's already way more important to me than that by the virue of being the book I brought as a gift on the first date I went with the first boy I loved. Can't wait to reread and reread Murakami throughout the years.
~ 24 September 2025
October 1, 2024
Ken je dat gevoel? Zo, op bezoek bij Oma en Opa, in de zetel, na te vertellen dat je naar een concert bent geweest en een liedje te laten horen van die artist, dat Oma en Opa zo beginnen van ‘De jeugd van tegenwoordig…’ en ‘dat is toch gene muziek meer’ met daartussen nen ‘gij zijt precies vermagerd, eete gij wel genoeg?’, waarna Opa begint met nen ‘In mijnen tijd eh …’, terwijl Oma een vijfde doos suikerrijke koekjes op tafel zet en je al slurpend van de verse thee luistert naar de achtenvijftig pagina’s over The Beatles die Opa uitbundig vertelt, al zittend rond de kachel.
Ken je dat gevoel? Awel eh, With The Beatles lezen voelde zo.
Ken je dat gevoel? Awel eh, With The Beatles lezen voelde zo.
June 30, 2023
"My mom (not really) threatened to throw this writer away if I don't choose a new favorite," I exclaimed. Having the same favourite writer for 4 years feels like wearing the same beloved pajama top for years until your mom insists on getting rid of it. One thing I love about this writer is how they incorporate their favorite songs, books, and life experiences into their stories. This particular tale is no different—I strongly sense that it's drawn from the author's own life, with the first girlfriend they mention being the same one from their other story, "South of the Borders, West of the Sun." Inspired by this book, I've added a few songs to my "Songs I Found in Books" playlist. I might even share the playlist soon."
May 16, 2025
Een dun boekje met een wonderlijk verhaal. Fijne schrijfstijl. Aan het eind dacht ik ‘Dit is een van de weinige boeken die ik een tweede keer zou willen lezen.’
June 1, 2025
?🤔Boeiend en mij aansprekend kort verhaal dat ik meenam bij mijn rondgang in mijn bieb.
MW1/6/25
MW1/6/25
January 3, 2022
A very quick and easy read, that can be typified as a Murakami-eque book. It consists of lovely writing, interesting characters, and portrays significantly less magical mystique than his other works. Overall, a captivating short story.
''The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being.''
''The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being.''
April 20, 2021
I read this short story as a part of the collection, 'first person singular" and HAD TO review it individually. It might be one of the most moving pieces of short-form fiction that I have read. It articulates a sort of cold reality about life that can only be articulated by a story, and not a direct description. This is Murakami at his best. Surreal, yet simple. Lyrical, yet light.
May 12, 2020
" The death of a dream can be, in a way, sadder than that of a living being. "
Displaying 1 - 30 of 113 reviews