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sputnik sweetheart
Lange Zeit ein Geheimtipp, avancierte Haruki Murakami mit dem Roman Naokos Lächeln, der in Das Literarische Quartett den päpstlichen Segen erhielt, hier zu Lande zum meistgelesenen japanischen Autor. Der unterkühlte Tonfall, der schnörkellose Stil, die sinnsüchtigen Mittzwanziger und -dreißiger, die, aller materiellen Sorgen ledig, mit weltschmerzverzerrtem Gesicht in schicken Bars abhängen -- das vermittelt dem westlichen Publikum das Gefühl, dass man sogar Japan(er) ansatzweise verstehen kann.
Soziologisch-literarische Forschungsarbeit hat Murakami zuletzt mit der Interview-Sammlung Untergrundkrieg geleistet, die Opfer wie Urheber des Tokioter Giftgasanschlags von 1995 zu Wort kommen lässt. Auch der Icherzähler in Sputnik Sweetheart berichtet von einer Katastrophe, einer unvorhergesehenen Wendung in seinem bis dahin ruhigen Leben. Ungeachtet gelegentlicher Affären pflegt der junge Grundschullehrer eine stille Leidenschaft für Sumire, eine ehemalige Kommilitonin mit schriftstellerischen Ambitionen, wie er eine zwanghafte Leserin und dabei eher weltfremd: "Sie rauchte zu viel und verlor auch bei kürzesten Bahnfahrten unweigerlich ihre Fahrkarte." Als Sumire sich in die erheblich ältere Miu verliebt, gerät das literarische Projekt in Vergessenheit. Erst auf einer Europareise mit ihrem "süßen Sputnik" beginnt sie wieder zu schreiben, um Miu und ihrer mysteriösen Geschichte näher zu kommen.
Über weite Strecken dominiert die Perspektive des namenlosen Lehrerfreundes. Dessen Stimme und Stimmungen kennzeichnet die vertraute Murakami-Mischung aus sentimentaler Melancholie und coolem Hedonismus. "Sie gab mir das Gefühl, erster Klasse zu fliegen", sagt er über eine Geliebte. Seine erotischen Fantasien sehen so aus: "Während die beiden sich leidenschaftlich liebten, könnte ich in einer Zimmerecke sitzen und Balzacs gesammelte Werke lesen." Ist die Komik beabsichtigt? Jedenfalls nervt der kultivierte Snobismus gehörig: "Geht's dir gut?" -- "Ja, ich bin munter wie die Moldau im Frühling."
Viel besser sind die Passagen mit und von Sumire. Auch die hat kitschige Anwandlungen, pflegt aber gleichzeitig einen gesunden Zynismus: "Statt eine Menge zusammenhangloses Zeug zu schreiben, sollte ich mich lieber wieder ins warme Bett kuscheln, an Miu denken und masturbieren. So sieht's aus." Was sie sonst noch über das Schreiben denkt, verrät einiges vom Selbstverständnis des Autors, droht allerdings im Kontext der durchaus spannenden Geschichte(n) -- äußerst verstörend die von Miu -- unterzugehen.
Also: Fans bekommen das, was sie erwarten: magischen Realismus auf asiatische Art, dieses Mal ohne epische Ausuferungen. Neulinge im Murakami-Kosmos dürften von dem literarischen Two-Nights-Stand zwar nicht abgeschreckt werden, als ungleich wirkungsvollere Einstiegsdroge sei ihnen jedoch der zauberhafte Erzählungsband Wie ich eines Tages im April das 100%ige Mädchen sah ans Herz gelegt. --Patrick Fischer
234 pages, Hardcover
First published April 20, 1999
4510 people are currently reading
99485 people want to read
About the author
Haruki Murakami
609 books133k 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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Displaying 1 - 30 of 13,798 reviews
March 10, 2017
"Reality was one step out of line, a cardigan with the buttons done up wrong."
I have come to realise that reading a Murakami book is not quite an act of reading itself but an act of dreaming with your eyes open. What you see is a series of surreal images barely held together by threads of reason. What matters however, is the feeling these images leave you with; an aftertaste that lingers and intensifies even as the world within these pages turns stranger and more disconcerting; until what you associate with the book is not the story or the characters, but simply, that feeling.
Sputnik Sweetheart would forever be linked in my mind with an aching kind of loneliness. Like losing something you thought you owned and then realising it was never really yours.
Only three characters inhabit the landscape in this book. Each is either a victim of unrequited love or incapable of being in love. They listen, talk, nod along and at the end of the day, go back to their lonely lives and continue to love just the person who cannot love them back. Like sputniks orbiting each other but never getting closer.
I believe what Murakami does is strip life of all flamboyance and expose how mundane it really is. How personal can a connection with a stranger be when some part of him/her will always be a mystery? We can know people, yet not know them. Is love simply a dream we see to avoid the reality of our lonely existence; each life in a separate orbit?
Indeed, reality bites.
"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."
Go on. Dream a Murakami.
November 9, 2009
Don't get me wrong, I don't think this is, by any chance, a bad book. My low rating can be easily explained by the fact that I've already read too much Murakami.
I used to like him quite a lot, but come on, doesn't he get tired of writing the same book over and over again? Let me show you the pattern. A simple guy who likes to 1.cook 2.listen to music/read books 3. think about the meaning of life meets an ordinary girl who turns out to be totally extraordinary, which gets her into trouble soon after the guy falls for her. The guy tries to save her from something, predictably dark, but fails. The ending is usually bleak and confusing. Doesn't it all sound familiar to you, experienced Murakami-readers?
So, if Sputnik Sweetheart was the first Murakami book I'd ever read I'd most definitely be head over heels for it right now. But after Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World, Norwegian Wood,Kafka on the Shore, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, etc., Sputnik Sweetheart just falls naturally into the plain old "more-of-the-same" category and never moves me like I expected.
September 3, 2025
“I dream. Sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do.”
Sputnik Sweetheart ~~~ Haruki Murakami
As I've stated previously, my friend, Srdjan, is obsessed with Murakami. Srdjan is so passionate about Murakami's writing that it is infectious. We've had many discussions about Murakami, and he kept prodding me to read one of Murakami's novels. He suggested Sputnik Sweetheart, or as I call it, Lust and Longing in Japan . So, I took up his challenge, & plunged into this, strange, magical, lyrical world.
Sputnik Sweetheart is a novel of what could have been, what might have been, where worlds overlap, & love can never quite be divorced from lust. In the world of K, Sumire, and Miu, sex is often mistaken for love. Sputnik Sweetheart is strangely haunting but oh so hard to describe; is it a tale of unreciprocated love, unrealized ambition, and desire, of always wanting more? Even with it being filled with unreciprocated love rather than love, it is also one of the most romantic books ever written. Yes, at it’s heart, Sputnik Sweetheart is a romance novel. Wait, Sputnik Sweetheart is a detective novel. Perhaps it's neither; perhaps I'm entirely wrong. Hmmm ... do any of us really know what a Murakami novel is about? Srdjan advised me not to overthink Murakami. Perhaps he's right ... or maybe he's not.
I'll admit it; I don't really know what Sputnik Sweetheart is about. What I can tell you, is that its themes are love, the loss of love, passion, the loss of passion, desire, & the loss of desire. Are the events K relates real or a dream? The only thing I do know is Sputnik Sweetheart is a beautiful novel
Regardless of what Sputnik Sweetheart is about, Haruki Murakami has seduced me.
Sputnik Sweetheart ~~~ Haruki Murakami
As I've stated previously, my friend, Srdjan, is obsessed with Murakami. Srdjan is so passionate about Murakami's writing that it is infectious. We've had many discussions about Murakami, and he kept prodding me to read one of Murakami's novels. He suggested Sputnik Sweetheart, or as I call it, Lust and Longing in Japan . So, I took up his challenge, & plunged into this, strange, magical, lyrical world.
Sputnik Sweetheart is a novel of what could have been, what might have been, where worlds overlap, & love can never quite be divorced from lust. In the world of K, Sumire, and Miu, sex is often mistaken for love. Sputnik Sweetheart is strangely haunting but oh so hard to describe; is it a tale of unreciprocated love, unrealized ambition, and desire, of always wanting more? Even with it being filled with unreciprocated love rather than love, it is also one of the most romantic books ever written. Yes, at it’s heart, Sputnik Sweetheart is a romance novel. Wait, Sputnik Sweetheart is a detective novel. Perhaps it's neither; perhaps I'm entirely wrong. Hmmm ... do any of us really know what a Murakami novel is about? Srdjan advised me not to overthink Murakami. Perhaps he's right ... or maybe he's not.
I'll admit it; I don't really know what Sputnik Sweetheart is about. What I can tell you, is that its themes are love, the loss of love, passion, the loss of passion, desire, & the loss of desire. Are the events K relates real or a dream? The only thing I do know is Sputnik Sweetheart is a beautiful novel
Regardless of what Sputnik Sweetheart is about, Haruki Murakami has seduced me.
December 3, 2025
My sixth Murakami.
About three-fourths of the way through the book the magical realism kicks in. We have a woman who has an experience where she sees herself “on the other side.” There is also a disappearing woman in a situation where it is impossible for her to disappear; a tiny Greek island -- no well to fall into; a tiny town only accessible by ferry; a drowned body would wash up. No Murakami cats or wells.
The story is told from the points of view of two young people: a male teacher and a female would-be author. He loves her, but she is in love with an older woman. This is why she writes: “On a day-to-day basis I use writing to figure out who I am.” And “In order for me to think about something, I have to first put it into writing.”
A couple of passages that I liked:
“Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life, and it’d lose even its imperfections.”
“She scrutinized me for a while, like I was some machine run by a heretofore unheard-of power source.”
It’s a good story. The structure of the book is a lot like that of Norwegian Wood. A young man loves a young woman but she is out of reach for some reason. There’s a lesbian sub-story in both books. The man also finds himself attracted to the older woman in each story.
Haruki Murakam is one of my favorite authors and I have read many of his novels. Below are links to my reviews of some I enjoyed.
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Wind/Pinball: Two Novels
Norwegian Wood
South of the Border, West of the Sun
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
1Q84
Kafka on the Shore
Top photo of Syros Island from fanpop.com
Lower photo from 123rf.com
The author from penguin.co.uk
June 13, 2020
“Being all alone is like the feeling you get when you stand at the mouth of a large river on a rainy evening and watch the water flow into the sea… I can’t really say why it’s such a lonely feeling to watch all the river water mix together with the seawater. But it really is.”
I hope that Haruki Murakami is a forgiving sort of guy. I’d like to apologize for abandoning him several years ago. I had picked up Kafka on the Shore, set it aside, and just like that never came back to Murakami again. I don’t know why; I’m a true believer in second chances. It’s not like me to just suddenly drop someone and never think of him or her ever again. Well, to be honest, I have thought of Murakami on occasion, but it took the encouraging nudge of a wise friend to finally convince me of another try. This time I fell in love.
“A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side.”
I’ve never read anything quite like this. It was similar to the feeling I have when waking from the most beautiful and haunting dream. My heart is expanded, my heart aches. There’s a sense of something hard to capture, fleeting; it will disappear in an instant. What remains is a sort of impression that is nearly impossible to explain. You can’t really tell anyone about it coherently because it only really makes sense to you alone. It’s just something you “know” and something you feel. You can’t get it out of your head. Your greatest desire is to go back to sleep forever, to dream that dream over and over again.
“So what are people supposed to do if they want to avoid a collision (thud!) but still lie in the field, enjoying the clouds drifting by, listening to the grass grow—not thinking, in other words?... The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams, and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.”
Somehow, I need to convey what this story is about. It’s about a lot of things. Things we can all relate to, such as unrequited love, loneliness, loss, desire, friendship. There are three major characters – Sumire, Miu and the narrator, referred to simply as “K.” Yes, there’s a love triangle, but one that is wholly mesmerizing. Sumire and K are friends of the best sort. They are much like soul mates but missing a connection of intimacy on the physical level. But that’s not for a lack of wanting, at least on K’s part.
“We used to spend hours talking. We never got tired of talking, never ran out of topics—novels, the world, scenery, language. Our conversations were more open and intimate than any lovers’… I imagined how wonderful it would be if indeed we could be lovers. I longed for the warmth of her skin on mine.”
One day Sumire falls in love. A trip to a Greek island with her new employer, Miu, turns this book into something so surreal, so compelling, that I couldn’t stop reading. Murakami’s use of magical realism is used flawlessly. Sometimes I want to head for the hills when I get a whiff of this element in a book, but here I was completely drawn to it. I don’t think Murakami could have gotten his point across to me quite so clearly without it. Here we are in a world surrounded by people, some with whom we are even the most intimate. Yet we are lone souls always just missing that most elemental of connections for which we yearn. People pass in and out of our lives. Are we destined to never make that most perfect bond? Or does there exist the one ephemeral moment in time when it is just possible that someone will come into our orbit, our world, and make that connection, leaving behind a piercing memory of something gained and lost? Just like that dream you woke up from that keeps nagging you at the back of your mind for all eternity.
“We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. Like a small flame. A careful, fortunate few cherish that flame, nurture it, hold it as a torch to light their way. But once that flame goes out, it’s gone forever.”
I’m completely sold on Murakami’s writing now. I went on to download a collection of his short stories right after finishing this novel. I’ve added more to my list. His writing is not extravagant, not overstated. Yet it’s lyrical, beautiful, and infused with a sense of unfulfilled longing. It truly resonated with this reader.
“I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik, even now circling the earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet, pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.”
I hope that Haruki Murakami is a forgiving sort of guy. I’d like to apologize for abandoning him several years ago. I had picked up Kafka on the Shore, set it aside, and just like that never came back to Murakami again. I don’t know why; I’m a true believer in second chances. It’s not like me to just suddenly drop someone and never think of him or her ever again. Well, to be honest, I have thought of Murakami on occasion, but it took the encouraging nudge of a wise friend to finally convince me of another try. This time I fell in love.
“A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side.”
I’ve never read anything quite like this. It was similar to the feeling I have when waking from the most beautiful and haunting dream. My heart is expanded, my heart aches. There’s a sense of something hard to capture, fleeting; it will disappear in an instant. What remains is a sort of impression that is nearly impossible to explain. You can’t really tell anyone about it coherently because it only really makes sense to you alone. It’s just something you “know” and something you feel. You can’t get it out of your head. Your greatest desire is to go back to sleep forever, to dream that dream over and over again.
“So what are people supposed to do if they want to avoid a collision (thud!) but still lie in the field, enjoying the clouds drifting by, listening to the grass grow—not thinking, in other words?... The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams, and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.”
Somehow, I need to convey what this story is about. It’s about a lot of things. Things we can all relate to, such as unrequited love, loneliness, loss, desire, friendship. There are three major characters – Sumire, Miu and the narrator, referred to simply as “K.” Yes, there’s a love triangle, but one that is wholly mesmerizing. Sumire and K are friends of the best sort. They are much like soul mates but missing a connection of intimacy on the physical level. But that’s not for a lack of wanting, at least on K’s part.
“We used to spend hours talking. We never got tired of talking, never ran out of topics—novels, the world, scenery, language. Our conversations were more open and intimate than any lovers’… I imagined how wonderful it would be if indeed we could be lovers. I longed for the warmth of her skin on mine.”
One day Sumire falls in love. A trip to a Greek island with her new employer, Miu, turns this book into something so surreal, so compelling, that I couldn’t stop reading. Murakami’s use of magical realism is used flawlessly. Sometimes I want to head for the hills when I get a whiff of this element in a book, but here I was completely drawn to it. I don’t think Murakami could have gotten his point across to me quite so clearly without it. Here we are in a world surrounded by people, some with whom we are even the most intimate. Yet we are lone souls always just missing that most elemental of connections for which we yearn. People pass in and out of our lives. Are we destined to never make that most perfect bond? Or does there exist the one ephemeral moment in time when it is just possible that someone will come into our orbit, our world, and make that connection, leaving behind a piercing memory of something gained and lost? Just like that dream you woke up from that keeps nagging you at the back of your mind for all eternity.
“We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. Like a small flame. A careful, fortunate few cherish that flame, nurture it, hold it as a torch to light their way. But once that flame goes out, it’s gone forever.”
I’m completely sold on Murakami’s writing now. I went on to download a collection of his short stories right after finishing this novel. I’ve added more to my list. His writing is not extravagant, not overstated. Yet it’s lyrical, beautiful, and infused with a sense of unfulfilled longing. It truly resonated with this reader.
“I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik, even now circling the earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet, pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.”
February 17, 2022
When I first read this (in 2007) I felt bad about rating such a wonderfully written book with just Two Stars!
With my second reading (in 2008), I began to see the light with a 7 out of 12, Three Star rating - my one sentence review: 'Second and more enlightened reading of this almost poetic masterpiece about a loneliness, self-identity and relationships, I think?'
BY my third reading I could simply put out there, that this is a poetic masterpiece about loneliness, self-identity and relationships, I'm sure! It's also all kinds of cool that the relationship that this book centres around is a same sex coupling and that, that itself is not an issue. All hail the King! 10 out of 12. Five Star read.
And yes, I know that's a Norwegian Wood GIF, what's your point? :)
2016 read; 2008 read; 2007 read
With my second reading (in 2008), I began to see the light with a 7 out of 12, Three Star rating - my one sentence review: 'Second and more enlightened reading of this almost poetic masterpiece about a loneliness, self-identity and relationships, I think?'
BY my third reading I could simply put out there, that this is a poetic masterpiece about loneliness, self-identity and relationships, I'm sure! It's also all kinds of cool that the relationship that this book centres around is a same sex coupling and that, that itself is not an issue. All hail the King! 10 out of 12. Five Star read.
And yes, I know that's a Norwegian Wood GIF, what's your point? :)
2016 read; 2008 read; 2007 read
November 25, 2024
موراكامي❤️كاتبي المفضل..
بيدخلني دايماً في عالم تاني..عالم مجنون ..عالم مختلف..
بيخليني أتخيل ..بيخليني أحلم..أحلم بوجود حاجات بيرفضها عقلنا البشري..ومع ذلك معاه بحس إنها ممكنة..
"ما الذي ينبغي فعله لتجنب الاصطدام؟الأمر سهل،الجواب هو الأحلام..الأستمرار و الأستمرار في الأحلام،ولوج عالم الأحلام وعدم الخروج منه أبداً.العيش هناك ما تبقي من العمر.."
عاوز تفصل عن عالمك الخارجي و تفكر بطريقة مختلفة و تعيش في حكايات ممتعة ..أقرأ لهاروكي:)
بيدخلني دايماً في عالم تاني..عالم مجنون ..عالم مختلف..
بيخليني أتخيل ..بيخليني أحلم..أحلم بوجود حاجات بيرفضها عقلنا البشري..ومع ذلك معاه بحس إنها ممكنة..
"ما الذي ينبغي فعله لتجنب الاصطدام؟الأمر سهل،الجواب هو الأحلام..الأستمرار و الأستمرار في الأحلام،ولوج عالم الأحلام وعدم الخروج منه أبداً.العيش هناك ما تبقي من العمر.."
عاوز تفصل عن عالمك الخارجي و تفكر بطريقة مختلفة و تعيش في حكايات ممتعة ..أقرأ لهاروكي:)
August 15, 2017
SPOILERS
She said: I really wanted to see you. When I couldn’t see you any more, I realized that. It was as clear as if the planets all of a sudden lined up in a row for me. I really need you. You’re a part of me; I’m a part of you.
He thought: We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.
I might be doing a disservice to Haruki Murakami with my attitude, but the desperate romantic in me, romantic in a fluffy and nausea causing way, cursed with unhealthily and unreasonably optimistic nature, just cannot help but seeing her words as a confession of the love he longs for so much and his thoughts as a belief in and acceptance of that love. Or, as someone who fears loneliness and understands it all too well, I can see it the other way. No one gets the kind of love they need and every one of the characters goes on suffering in the same closed circle, and in the end everything is the same and everyone is lonely and in pain. But I choose not to.
"Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?"
I think that it’s good for such a story as this one to have an equivocal, open for interpretation finale. I think that the choice it requires of us resembles the choice we might have to make when our own personal stories our concerned. Does others' loneliness (or lack of one) make our own more or less bearable? Or maybe it does both? To what extent and in what way loneliness/happiness is a choice? I think it challanges us to try understanding better the nature of our own state of mind, our life, our ways, our own view of the world.
I wanted to write a real review, but so far I can’t. Yet, I did not want to leave the first Japanese novel I had ever read (and what a novel that was) without some acknowledgement before saying goodbye. I imagined that those four stars, while waiting for me to come up with the substantial review I dream of, would feel awfully lonely on their own. It was a very evocative novel, beautiful, touching, real. I will certainly come back to Haruki Murakami.
Read count: 1
She said: I really wanted to see you. When I couldn’t see you any more, I realized that. It was as clear as if the planets all of a sudden lined up in a row for me. I really need you. You’re a part of me; I’m a part of you.
He thought: We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.
I might be doing a disservice to Haruki Murakami with my attitude, but the desperate romantic in me, romantic in a fluffy and nausea causing way, cursed with unhealthily and unreasonably optimistic nature, just cannot help but seeing her words as a confession of the love he longs for so much and his thoughts as a belief in and acceptance of that love. Or, as someone who fears loneliness and understands it all too well, I can see it the other way. No one gets the kind of love they need and every one of the characters goes on suffering in the same closed circle, and in the end everything is the same and everyone is lonely and in pain. But I choose not to.
"Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?"
I think that it’s good for such a story as this one to have an equivocal, open for interpretation finale. I think that the choice it requires of us resembles the choice we might have to make when our own personal stories our concerned. Does others' loneliness (or lack of one) make our own more or less bearable? Or maybe it does both? To what extent and in what way loneliness/happiness is a choice? I think it challanges us to try understanding better the nature of our own state of mind, our life, our ways, our own view of the world.
I wanted to write a real review, but so far I can’t. Yet, I did not want to leave the first Japanese novel I had ever read (and what a novel that was) without some acknowledgement before saying goodbye. I imagined that those four stars, while waiting for me to come up with the substantial review I dream of, would feel awfully lonely on their own. It was a very evocative novel, beautiful, touching, real. I will certainly come back to Haruki Murakami.
Read count: 1
January 24, 2026
In Sputnik, My Love, the author's Western obsessions are apparent. The book tells the story of a love triangle: an aspiring avant-garde writer, Sumire, falls in love with a mysterious and wealthy woman, Miu, who has a wine import business and studies classical piano in France. The narrator is a primary teacher who, in turn, silently loves Sumire. In the background, the three characters orbit one another, occasionally intersecting at a single point. This fact brings us to the bizarre title: Sputnik arises from an initial misunderstanding between the two women; one speaks in the style of Jack Kerouac, and the other confuses Beatnik with Sputnik; both laugh. Later, it is explained that the Russian word means "travelling companion," thus justifying one of the book's themes: the demand for something unattainable. When Sumire reflects on his writing, his conception of the world, and the confusion of his feelings, he writes this revealing phrase: "Perception is but the sum of our misunderstandings." We are, therefore, in the field of uncertainty. Because Sputnik, My Love is a poetic journey through the strange orbits of "solitary pieces of metal," each inhabited by a traveler who barely understands his passion. This work is a short novel that reads like a match, and Murakami's trick to grab the reader is to reconcile the simplicity of the writing with the complexity of the characters. The author goes out as if he were the judge of one of those rare football games where everything went so well that no one remembers who was mediating the show.
May 9, 2007
Why does Haruki Murakami hit the spot so well for me, and for thousands of other readers worldwide? There's a common element in all his works; it's a bridge of fantasy and reality that has just the right delicate balance. There's something about that balance that's so mesmerizing. You can connect with it on a level that you can’t in pure fantasy, and there’s enough of a disconnect from solid reality to leave you in wonder. Of all the other writers that have been categorized as magical realism that I’ve read, Murakami is the one who masters this style the finest.
Sputnik Sweetheart is the type of book that I pick up from my nightstand a Saturday morning right after I wake up, and read it until the last page, sometime early in the afternoon. The voice, the prose, the mystery…it’s all AMAZING.
It's a story of an unconventional love triangle between the narrator, a young woman he loves, and the woman she loves, who doesn't have a drive for anyone. Bizzare things happen when the two women (the younger is the personal assistant of the older) go overseas for business and end up extending their stay on a Greek Island. The novel explores the concept of the "other side"; in terms of language and writing, in terms of being.
Sputnik Sweetheart is the type of book that I pick up from my nightstand a Saturday morning right after I wake up, and read it until the last page, sometime early in the afternoon. The voice, the prose, the mystery…it’s all AMAZING.
It's a story of an unconventional love triangle between the narrator, a young woman he loves, and the woman she loves, who doesn't have a drive for anyone. Bizzare things happen when the two women (the younger is the personal assistant of the older) go overseas for business and end up extending their stay on a Greek Island. The novel explores the concept of the "other side"; in terms of language and writing, in terms of being.
June 27, 2025
ده اللي انكتب مفروط يا عنقود العنب
كصناعة النبيذ تدور الأحداث في بطء و أناة خلال الصفحات المائة الأولى ثم تبدأ في الركض السريع متلاحق الأنفاس حتى النهاية.العبقري الغريب موراكامي لا يكف عن ابهارنا ببساطته الأسطورية و لغته الساحرة و أفكاره الغريبة الجريئة و إباحيته الوقورة :)
كنت لا أزال هنا أنا الأخرى. ربما نصفي ذهب إلى الجانب الأخر آخذا معه شعري الأسود و رغبتي الجنسية و عادتي الشهرية و ربما حتى الرغبة في العيش. أما الجزء الذي ترك فهو ما ترينه هنا. شعرت بأني قسمت لسبب لا أستطيع تفسيره إلى قسمين. ليس بمعنى أن شيئا سلب مني لأنه ما زال موجودا هنا في الجانب الأخر. مجرد مرآة واحدة تفصلنا عن الجزء الثاني. لكن ليس بوسعي عبور حد إطار الزجاج إطلاقا.
كنت حية في الماضي و أنا حية الأن أجلس هنا أتحدث معك. لكن ما ترينه هنا ليس أنا الحقيقية. إنه مجرد ظل لما كنت عليه. أنت تعيشين حقا أما أنا فلا أعيش. و حتى تلك الكلمات التي أقولها الأن تبدو فارغة كصدى.
ما الذي ينبغي فعله لتجنب الاصطدام؟
منطقيا. الأمر سهل.
الجواب هو الأحلام. الاستمرار و الاستمرار في الأحلام. ولوج عالم الأحلام و عدم الخروج منه أبدا. العيش هناك ما تبقى من العمر.
هكذا نعيش حياتنا مهما كان عمق و خطورة الخسارة. و مهما كانت أهمية ما يسرق منا - الذي يخطف مباشرة من بين أيدينا - حتى لو تركنا كبشر متغيرين و لم يبق لنا مما كان قبلا سوى طبقة من البشرة الخارجية. فإننا نستمر في العيش على هذه الطريقة بصمت. ندنو كثيرا من الوقت المخصص لنا. نودعه أثناء جرجرته خلفنا. مكررين و غالبا ببراعة أعمال الحياة اليومية غير المتناهية مخلفين شعورا بفراغ غير قابل للقياس.
January 7, 2022
Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami
Unrequited love. That’s what this one is about – and loneliness.
The thing about Murakami is, he writes in what appears to be such a simple way. There are no great flourishes, it doesn’t appear too technical, certainly not highbrow literature. Plain and simple. In, fact when reading this I sometimes thought “I can write that”. Not a chance buddy!! There is so much packed into this story – again, it looks short but reads long.
Our main character is Sumire, a young woman who has a short humdrum hairstyle, clothes that made you wonder what she could have been thinking, an ill-at-ease smile. She’s an aspiring writer, always scribbling away, thinking, pondering, not really marching to the same beat as everyone else. She’s all over the shop.
Sumire’s mother died when she was very young and when she used to ask her dashing Father (a dentist too!) what her mother was like – all he could offer was “She was good at remembering things and she had nice handwriting”. Now that small sample there is (a) Hilarious – I think and (b) such a simple way of describing the relationship between Sumire’s parents. Murakami – managed to do that in 11 words. Wow. This is what he does.
I’d also like to quote one of Sumire’s diary notes – “Understanding is the sum of our misunderstandings”. Didn’t Socrates once say “I know that I know nothing”? I think Sumire is a bright young woman – but it seems to me that people like her may quite easily fall through the cracks in this crazy, mad, greedy, and often nasty society of ours.
Our world full of round holes doesn’t always accommodate square pegs.
There are 2 main people in Sumire’s life. Firstly, there’s an equivalently aged male friend (K) she talks to (at) incessantly about stuff, at any hour of the day. He often tries to give her sage advice, see he’s a teacher – a responsible bloke and he feels she needs guidance sometimes. I loved their relationship. Secondly, there’s Sumire’s relationship with a sophisticated businesswoman called Miu who is 17 years older than Sumire. This relationship is fascinating and keeps the reader guessing where it will end up.
That’s all I will tell you other than the small matter of Sumire going missing – it’s mentioned on the jacket of the paperback and we end up in a beautiful unnamed little Greek Island near Rhodes. This part was fascinating, it also made me sad, because I felt the need to travel again.
I re-read the following passage over and over.
And this love is about to carry me off somewhere. The current’s too overpowering; I don’t have any choice. It may very well be a special place, some place I’ve never been before. Danger may be lurking there, something that may end up wounding me deeply, fatally. I might end up losing everything. But there’s no turning back. I can only go with the flow. Even if it means I’ll be burned up, gone for ever
This story keeps the reader guessing and thinking. A great combination methinks!
I liked this story a lot – and it was almost 5-stars, but it wasn’t as brilliant as recent 5-star reads, just.
4-Stars
Unrequited love. That’s what this one is about – and loneliness.
The thing about Murakami is, he writes in what appears to be such a simple way. There are no great flourishes, it doesn’t appear too technical, certainly not highbrow literature. Plain and simple. In, fact when reading this I sometimes thought “I can write that”. Not a chance buddy!! There is so much packed into this story – again, it looks short but reads long.
Our main character is Sumire, a young woman who has a short humdrum hairstyle, clothes that made you wonder what she could have been thinking, an ill-at-ease smile. She’s an aspiring writer, always scribbling away, thinking, pondering, not really marching to the same beat as everyone else. She’s all over the shop.
Sumire’s mother died when she was very young and when she used to ask her dashing Father (a dentist too!) what her mother was like – all he could offer was “She was good at remembering things and she had nice handwriting”. Now that small sample there is (a) Hilarious – I think and (b) such a simple way of describing the relationship between Sumire’s parents. Murakami – managed to do that in 11 words. Wow. This is what he does.
I’d also like to quote one of Sumire’s diary notes – “Understanding is the sum of our misunderstandings”. Didn’t Socrates once say “I know that I know nothing”? I think Sumire is a bright young woman – but it seems to me that people like her may quite easily fall through the cracks in this crazy, mad, greedy, and often nasty society of ours.
Our world full of round holes doesn’t always accommodate square pegs.
There are 2 main people in Sumire’s life. Firstly, there’s an equivalently aged male friend (K) she talks to (at) incessantly about stuff, at any hour of the day. He often tries to give her sage advice, see he’s a teacher – a responsible bloke and he feels she needs guidance sometimes. I loved their relationship. Secondly, there’s Sumire’s relationship with a sophisticated businesswoman called Miu who is 17 years older than Sumire. This relationship is fascinating and keeps the reader guessing where it will end up.
That’s all I will tell you other than the small matter of Sumire going missing – it’s mentioned on the jacket of the paperback and we end up in a beautiful unnamed little Greek Island near Rhodes. This part was fascinating, it also made me sad, because I felt the need to travel again.
I re-read the following passage over and over.
And this love is about to carry me off somewhere. The current’s too overpowering; I don’t have any choice. It may very well be a special place, some place I’ve never been before. Danger may be lurking there, something that may end up wounding me deeply, fatally. I might end up losing everything. But there’s no turning back. I can only go with the flow. Even if it means I’ll be burned up, gone for ever
This story keeps the reader guessing and thinking. A great combination methinks!
I liked this story a lot – and it was almost 5-stars, but it wasn’t as brilliant as recent 5-star reads, just.
4-Stars
March 17, 2009
After the excellent Kafka on the Shore and the perhaps much better Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, I've been on something of a Murakami kick. I find his storytelling fascinating, both in device and in style. His use of the extraordinary-as-mundane is a tasty joy for me to indulge. Sputnik Sweetheart, while not as wonderful an experience as the two aforementioned works, was quite a bit of quick fun.
Thematically not dissimilar from Wind-up Bird, this short novel revels in questions of identity, conscious vs. subconscious, the real vs. hidden world, and the nature of sexuality. The book is lean and packed with Murakami-style mystery—that is, both mystery in the detective sense and mystery in something closer to a Pauline sense, a revelation that is baffling to those who don't get it and uncanny to those who do.
Sputnik Sweetheart revolves around three characters: 1) the largely passive narrator, K, a thirty-year-old elementary school teacher and passionate reader who is madly in love with 2) Sumire, a former classmate of K's who dropped out of school to become a writer and who has fallen madly in love with 3) Miu (whom Sumire calls her "Sputnik Sweetheart"), a married woman who imports wine, has a hidden past, and holds no ability to care sexually for her husband, Sumire, or really any other creature. All three are tortured by their own lives and despite the plot involving Sumire's abrupt disappearance off a secluded Greek island (a la L'Avventura), the story is less about the disappearance and K's subsequent investigation, and more a discussion of who people are and what is it that both separates and binds humanity from and to itself.
Sputnik Sweetheart is not the best I've read from Haruki Murakami, but it was certainly worthwhile and a book I hope to revisit in a few years.
Thematically not dissimilar from Wind-up Bird, this short novel revels in questions of identity, conscious vs. subconscious, the real vs. hidden world, and the nature of sexuality. The book is lean and packed with Murakami-style mystery—that is, both mystery in the detective sense and mystery in something closer to a Pauline sense, a revelation that is baffling to those who don't get it and uncanny to those who do.
Sputnik Sweetheart revolves around three characters: 1) the largely passive narrator, K, a thirty-year-old elementary school teacher and passionate reader who is madly in love with 2) Sumire, a former classmate of K's who dropped out of school to become a writer and who has fallen madly in love with 3) Miu (whom Sumire calls her "Sputnik Sweetheart"), a married woman who imports wine, has a hidden past, and holds no ability to care sexually for her husband, Sumire, or really any other creature. All three are tortured by their own lives and despite the plot involving Sumire's abrupt disappearance off a secluded Greek island (a la L'Avventura), the story is less about the disappearance and K's subsequent investigation, and more a discussion of who people are and what is it that both separates and binds humanity from and to itself.
Sputnik Sweetheart is not the best I've read from Haruki Murakami, but it was certainly worthwhile and a book I hope to revisit in a few years.
February 2, 2024
Reading Sputnik Sweetheart is like returning home. As the saying goes, you can't step in the same river twice...you can go home, but the home isn't the same home that you left. So it is with books. You can read the same words again and again, but since you are different, the book is different too.
This time, as I read this book, I dwelled on the topic of lost things.
"I closed my eyes and tried to bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing them closer, holding on to them. Knowing all the while that their lives are fleeting."
Reading this book, I couldn't help but think of all the lost things in my life. Great people and influences in my life that have moved away or moved on. They're not like books, stationary objects with fixed text. People really do disappear, though often in mundane ways. And it's hard to find them because mundane distances can be as bad and as troublesome as magical ones.
How many Sumires have I known in my life? No less than four I would say. None of them vanished like smoke, and yet they are far away somehow.
Like a Beatnik (Sputnik) writer, I return to this review looking for the portal. There is an island somewhere where all of the Sumires in my life still live. They are there waiting for me.
My phone rings.
"Hello."
"It's me."
I know the voice. It's not from one of the Sumires I lost, but from one of the Sumires I have not yet found.
"Come find me."
"But how..."
"No more questions. You know what you have to do."
Abruptly the phone cuts off.
I need to cut the throat of a dog. I need to spill blood...no, no, that was how the novel went. But I am different. I don't need to spill blood. Spilling blood was only a metaphor anyway.
I think about all the lost Sumires in my life. I open the book one more time.
"In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains—flattening everything in its path..."
This time, as I read this book, I dwelled on the topic of lost things.
"I closed my eyes and tried to bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing them closer, holding on to them. Knowing all the while that their lives are fleeting."
Reading this book, I couldn't help but think of all the lost things in my life. Great people and influences in my life that have moved away or moved on. They're not like books, stationary objects with fixed text. People really do disappear, though often in mundane ways. And it's hard to find them because mundane distances can be as bad and as troublesome as magical ones.
How many Sumires have I known in my life? No less than four I would say. None of them vanished like smoke, and yet they are far away somehow.
Like a Beatnik (Sputnik) writer, I return to this review looking for the portal. There is an island somewhere where all of the Sumires in my life still live. They are there waiting for me.
My phone rings.
"Hello."
"It's me."
I know the voice. It's not from one of the Sumires I lost, but from one of the Sumires I have not yet found.
"Come find me."
"But how..."
"No more questions. You know what you have to do."
Abruptly the phone cuts off.
I need to cut the throat of a dog. I need to spill blood...no, no, that was how the novel went. But I am different. I don't need to spill blood. Spilling blood was only a metaphor anyway.
I think about all the lost Sumires in my life. I open the book one more time.
"In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains—flattening everything in its path..."
February 1, 2023
This first half of the book gave me equal satisfaction as The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid.
But I thought the second part was really ridiculous.
Murakami's writing is different in the sense that this one is a little mainstream compared to his other novels. Nevertheless this book is so charming. The characters are so realistic and character development is so damn amazing.
It's the writing. Yes, his writing. It seems really simple but I have not come across many authors who would express as exactly as what we feel. It's like reading the mirror of your thoughts, feelings and emotions (the narrator's chapters are the highlights of this book).
I changed my mind (previously I rated it 4/5 🌟). I cannot rate this book any lower. Because at many levels, I can relate so much with this book.
If words and writing can be as realistic as it can to a point that it is so enjoyable, you just cannot do anything else but keep on reading a Murakami book.
As a matter of fact, the characters hit home. As unpleasant and real as it sounds, two of these characters remind me so much of reality. (Moments after reading the book got me a bit high and hence the faulty rating. I needed to calm down and think about the book and decide what it made me feel in real.)
The first half of the book mesmerized me. It's the second half that ruined the book.
And it's practically impossible to write a proper review for one of his books. Because it's all related to how real the writing gets while you're reading his books.
This book is a good representation of queer, age gap relationship; a seeming author who keeps on writing; a narrator as real as one can get. It's about life in general and the longing of the possible love which would never be returned.
*Some memorable lines:
📌 He wasn't a talkative man to begin with, and in all aspects of life - like they were some kind of mouth infection he wanted to avoid catching - he never talked about his feelings.
📌 Sumire was living in a one-room apartment in Kichijoji where she made do with the minimum amount of furniture and the maximum number of books.
📌 A short girl beside me leaned over, took a look at the book, and asked me, Why Nizan, of all people? She sounded like she was trying to pick a fight. Like she wanted to kick something and send it flying but lacking anything suitable attacked my choice of reading material.
📌 Devouring books came naturally to us as breathing. Every spare moment we'd settle down in some quiet corner, endlessly turning page after page.
📌 Japanese novels, foreign novels, new works, classics, avant-garde to bestseller - as long as there was something intellectually stimulating in a book, we'd read it.
📌 I'd never run across anyone else who read so avidly - so deeply, so widely - as Sumire, and I'm sure she felt the same.
📌 It is the same with anything - you have to learn through your own experience, paying your own way. You can't learn it from a book.
📌 I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, pulled a chair over next to the window, and sat there, munching on cheese and crackers. I sat, reading, waiting for the dawn.
📌📌📌 The upshot of all this was that when I was young I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with, I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person's attitude so that they wouldn't get any closer. I didn't easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music. As you might guess, I led a lonely life.
(📌 Okay, I will stop. Otherwise half of the book will be here🤦)
After thinking over the book over and over again for about 5 hours, I finally rated the book 3 🌟 because of the later half of the book. It was like Murakami was running out of ideas on how to finish up this book. It felt like the story turned into something that is somehow disconnected from the first half even though the three characters' lives were discussed. But it was like it was totally not required at all. The book ended up as just one average read. The ending was so rushed up where it mattered while a few unnecessary long chapters got pushed in between.
But the first half was really good. The entire rating goes to that.
I dive into Murakami's books blindly. No overhyping or underhyping play a part in my reviews when it comes to Murakami's book reviews.
But I thought the second part was really ridiculous.
Murakami's writing is different in the sense that this one is a little mainstream compared to his other novels. Nevertheless this book is so charming. The characters are so realistic and character development is so damn amazing.
It's the writing. Yes, his writing. It seems really simple but I have not come across many authors who would express as exactly as what we feel. It's like reading the mirror of your thoughts, feelings and emotions (the narrator's chapters are the highlights of this book).
I changed my mind (previously I rated it 4/5 🌟). I cannot rate this book any lower. Because at many levels, I can relate so much with this book.
If words and writing can be as realistic as it can to a point that it is so enjoyable, you just cannot do anything else but keep on reading a Murakami book.
As a matter of fact, the characters hit home. As unpleasant and real as it sounds, two of these characters remind me so much of reality. (Moments after reading the book got me a bit high and hence the faulty rating. I needed to calm down and think about the book and decide what it made me feel in real.)
The first half of the book mesmerized me. It's the second half that ruined the book.
And it's practically impossible to write a proper review for one of his books. Because it's all related to how real the writing gets while you're reading his books.
This book is a good representation of queer, age gap relationship; a seeming author who keeps on writing; a narrator as real as one can get. It's about life in general and the longing of the possible love which would never be returned.
*Some memorable lines:
📌 He wasn't a talkative man to begin with, and in all aspects of life - like they were some kind of mouth infection he wanted to avoid catching - he never talked about his feelings.
📌 Sumire was living in a one-room apartment in Kichijoji where she made do with the minimum amount of furniture and the maximum number of books.
📌 A short girl beside me leaned over, took a look at the book, and asked me, Why Nizan, of all people? She sounded like she was trying to pick a fight. Like she wanted to kick something and send it flying but lacking anything suitable attacked my choice of reading material.
📌 Devouring books came naturally to us as breathing. Every spare moment we'd settle down in some quiet corner, endlessly turning page after page.
📌 Japanese novels, foreign novels, new works, classics, avant-garde to bestseller - as long as there was something intellectually stimulating in a book, we'd read it.
📌 I'd never run across anyone else who read so avidly - so deeply, so widely - as Sumire, and I'm sure she felt the same.
📌 It is the same with anything - you have to learn through your own experience, paying your own way. You can't learn it from a book.
📌 I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, pulled a chair over next to the window, and sat there, munching on cheese and crackers. I sat, reading, waiting for the dawn.
📌📌📌 The upshot of all this was that when I was young I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with, I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person's attitude so that they wouldn't get any closer. I didn't easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music. As you might guess, I led a lonely life.
(📌 Okay, I will stop. Otherwise half of the book will be here🤦)
After thinking over the book over and over again for about 5 hours, I finally rated the book 3 🌟 because of the later half of the book. It was like Murakami was running out of ideas on how to finish up this book. It felt like the story turned into something that is somehow disconnected from the first half even though the three characters' lives were discussed. But it was like it was totally not required at all. The book ended up as just one average read. The ending was so rushed up where it mattered while a few unnecessary long chapters got pushed in between.
But the first half was really good. The entire rating goes to that.
I dive into Murakami's books blindly. No overhyping or underhyping play a part in my reviews when it comes to Murakami's book reviews.
March 14, 2010
This is my 2nd novel by Haruki Murakami and just like Kafka in the Shore, this still amazed me. I even enjoyed this more than Kafka.
For me this is the best unrequited tragic love story I've read so far. As this is said to be the most openly emotional novel of Mr. Murakami, the prose is really haunting and the scenes are dreamy and surreal. Again, because Mr. Murakami uses a lot of metaphors and symbolisms, there can be layers of interpretations. I am not really fond of love stories (this just happens to be part of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die), but I choose to see this novel as a story of a tangled triangle of uniquely unrequited loves.
The narrator, a 25-year old teacher, K is in love with a 22-year old lesbian writer, Sumire. However, Sumire is in love with her boss, a 39-year old married businesswoman, Miu. Miu and Sumire, working as the former's personal secretaty, went on vacation in Greece as a side trip from a business trip in Italy. Sumire told Miu her feelings. Because of her past, Miu could not reciprocate Sumire's love. The latter disappeared "like a smoke."
There are many nice heartfelt quotes but the one below is my favorite as this explains the title. Based on history, Sputnik 1 & 2 were the first man-made satellites launched by USSR in 1957. In Sputnik 2, there was a dog Laika that becaume the first living being to leave the earth's atmosphere, but the satellites were never recovered.
With Sumire writing and referring to her and Miu:
The novel is easy to read and it took me less than a day to finish all the 210 pages. Especially towards the end, I had to stop several times as the writing is so good that I had to close my eyes and think of my own lost or unrequited loves I had in the past.
My unsuspecting wife thought that my knee was hurting.
For me this is the best unrequited tragic love story I've read so far. As this is said to be the most openly emotional novel of Mr. Murakami, the prose is really haunting and the scenes are dreamy and surreal. Again, because Mr. Murakami uses a lot of metaphors and symbolisms, there can be layers of interpretations. I am not really fond of love stories (this just happens to be part of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die), but I choose to see this novel as a story of a tangled triangle of uniquely unrequited loves.
The narrator, a 25-year old teacher, K is in love with a 22-year old lesbian writer, Sumire. However, Sumire is in love with her boss, a 39-year old married businesswoman, Miu. Miu and Sumire, working as the former's personal secretaty, went on vacation in Greece as a side trip from a business trip in Italy. Sumire told Miu her feelings. Because of her past, Miu could not reciprocate Sumire's love. The latter disappeared "like a smoke."
There are many nice heartfelt quotes but the one below is my favorite as this explains the title. Based on history, Sputnik 1 & 2 were the first man-made satellites launched by USSR in 1957. In Sputnik 2, there was a dog Laika that becaume the first living being to leave the earth's atmosphere, but the satellites were never recovered.
With Sumire writing and referring to her and Miu:
"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."
The novel is easy to read and it took me less than a day to finish all the 210 pages. Especially towards the end, I had to stop several times as the writing is so good that I had to close my eyes and think of my own lost or unrequited loves I had in the past.
My unsuspecting wife thought that my knee was hurting.
February 10, 2014
Another Murakami's book that I enjoy reading.
"Understanding is but the sun of our misunderstandings. "
Confusion leads us to understanding.
"Understanding is but the sun of our misunderstandings. "
Confusion leads us to understanding.
December 22, 2016
إذا أردتَ أن تجرب إحساس الهلوسة التي تفصلك عن الواقع، وتسافر بك عبر الزمان والمكان إلى عالم خيالي، يخلو من الهم والحزن، ويمتلئ بالبهجة والسحر، أمامك وسيلتان: إما أن تتعاطي المخدرات، وإما أن تقرأ لموراكامي.
تمت
April 11, 2025
I'm not going to pretend I understand this book. And it's haunting me. Just when I think I catch a glimmer, it slips away from me.
What I am able to hold onto is that this work has a distinctive melancholy that is oddly hypnotic.It seems to encompass themes of desire, loneliness and isolation, and identity.
Sumire, one of the main characters, writes to think, to try to understand. And that's what I'm doing with this review.
Murkami opens this novel:
"In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains--flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds, crushing them to bits. The tornado's intensity doesn't abate for a second as it blasts across the ocean, laying waste to Angkor Wat, incinerating an Indian jungle, tigers and all, transforming itself into a Persian desert sandstorm, burying an exotic fortress city under a sea of sand. In short, a love of truly monumental proportions."
Okay, I think, I can relate to this. Remember that first love, that surge of hormones, the dizzying feeling of being with that one, how the rest of the world seemed to disappear? While I have had deeper loves, I have never since experienced that extreme intensity.
Our narrator, K, and Sumire meet in college. They are platonic soul mates. Though K is deeply in love with Sumiere and physically attracted to her, he keeps his feelings to himself to maintain their relationship. Sumire meets Miu, falls head over heels instantaneously, changes her outward self, and goes to work for Miu.
K is a teacher who fell into a career for which he is well suited. He is different from his family and peers and of a philosophical bent. "The upshot of all this was that when I was young I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with, I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person's attitude so that they wouldn't get any closer. I didn't easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music. As you might guess, I led a lonely life."
And now he is still questioning "Who am I? What am I searching for? Where am I headed? The closest I came to answering these questions was when I talked with Sumire."
Then Miu and Sumire go to Europe on a business trip which concludes with a week-long stay on a small Greek island. At this point the book becomes more metaphysical and then dips into magical realism, and I begin to grope my way through the fog. I read and then re-read the second half of the novel.
Sumire has vanished and Miu calls K and asks him to come to Greece to help. K finds some of Sumire's writing. One passage she has written seems to pull together some of this last section:
"Did you ever see anyone shot by a gun without bleeding? . . . . I love that line. That's gotta be one of the principles behind reality. Accepting things that are hard to comprehend, and leaving them that way. And bleeding. Shooting and bleeding."
I think Murkami is pointing to how disconnected we can be, how we affect each other, how we are connected, and how strong or ephemeral love and connection can be.
"So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.
"We're both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We're connected to reality by the same line. all I have to do is quietly draw it toward me."
For anyone still reading, thank you for bearing with my rambling. If you're looking for a linear work that is simple and clear, this tale is not for you. And if you're willing to jump off a precipice and take a dive into emptiness that may hold you with it's beautiful writing (a testament to the author and translator) and will lead you to think, do pick this up.
And if you do read this work, please come back and share your thoughts with me. I'll still be walking around in Murakami's world.
Published in 1999, Translated in 2001.
What I am able to hold onto is that this work has a distinctive melancholy that is oddly hypnotic.It seems to encompass themes of desire, loneliness and isolation, and identity.
Sumire, one of the main characters, writes to think, to try to understand. And that's what I'm doing with this review.
Murkami opens this novel:
"In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains--flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds, crushing them to bits. The tornado's intensity doesn't abate for a second as it blasts across the ocean, laying waste to Angkor Wat, incinerating an Indian jungle, tigers and all, transforming itself into a Persian desert sandstorm, burying an exotic fortress city under a sea of sand. In short, a love of truly monumental proportions."
Okay, I think, I can relate to this. Remember that first love, that surge of hormones, the dizzying feeling of being with that one, how the rest of the world seemed to disappear? While I have had deeper loves, I have never since experienced that extreme intensity.
Our narrator, K, and Sumire meet in college. They are platonic soul mates. Though K is deeply in love with Sumiere and physically attracted to her, he keeps his feelings to himself to maintain their relationship. Sumire meets Miu, falls head over heels instantaneously, changes her outward self, and goes to work for Miu.
K is a teacher who fell into a career for which he is well suited. He is different from his family and peers and of a philosophical bent. "The upshot of all this was that when I was young I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with, I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person's attitude so that they wouldn't get any closer. I didn't easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music. As you might guess, I led a lonely life."
And now he is still questioning "Who am I? What am I searching for? Where am I headed? The closest I came to answering these questions was when I talked with Sumire."
Then Miu and Sumire go to Europe on a business trip which concludes with a week-long stay on a small Greek island. At this point the book becomes more metaphysical and then dips into magical realism, and I begin to grope my way through the fog. I read and then re-read the second half of the novel.
Sumire has vanished and Miu calls K and asks him to come to Greece to help. K finds some of Sumire's writing. One passage she has written seems to pull together some of this last section:
"Did you ever see anyone shot by a gun without bleeding? . . . . I love that line. That's gotta be one of the principles behind reality. Accepting things that are hard to comprehend, and leaving them that way. And bleeding. Shooting and bleeding."
I think Murkami is pointing to how disconnected we can be, how we affect each other, how we are connected, and how strong or ephemeral love and connection can be.
"So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.
"We're both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We're connected to reality by the same line. all I have to do is quietly draw it toward me."
For anyone still reading, thank you for bearing with my rambling. If you're looking for a linear work that is simple and clear, this tale is not for you. And if you're willing to jump off a precipice and take a dive into emptiness that may hold you with it's beautiful writing (a testament to the author and translator) and will lead you to think, do pick this up.
And if you do read this work, please come back and share your thoughts with me. I'll still be walking around in Murakami's world.
Published in 1999, Translated in 2001.
February 22, 2017
This turned out to be quite an interesting read. For the most part, I was utterly bored when reading this book. It contains long passages of bland thoughts and descriptions, and I was starting to think that I had grown away from Haruki Murakami and his story-telling which I used to absolutely love (I have read quite a lot of his novels through the years).
However, halfway through the novel I encountered what was to become one of my favourite literary scenes (it contains a ferris wheel), and from then onwards the book picked up and caught my attention. For that reason, my rating is an average one. "Sputnik Sweethearts" contains - in my humble opinion - bland story-telling that is hard to get through combined with hugely interesting passages and thoughts on life mixed with some magical realism (as one can only expect from Murakami). In the end, I quite liked this novel, even though it isn't my favourite of his.
However, halfway through the novel I encountered what was to become one of my favourite literary scenes (it contains a ferris wheel), and from then onwards the book picked up and caught my attention. For that reason, my rating is an average one. "Sputnik Sweethearts" contains - in my humble opinion - bland story-telling that is hard to get through combined with hugely interesting passages and thoughts on life mixed with some magical realism (as one can only expect from Murakami). In the end, I quite liked this novel, even though it isn't my favourite of his.
September 25, 2025
I've always been a big fan of Haruki Murakami. So much so that I've read almost everything he's written. I remember the first time I flew overseas on a Boeing 747; instead of being excited about traveling, I was thinking about the Boeing 747 that landed at Hamburg Airport on a rainy day at the beginning of Norwegian Wood. I finally got to experience the same plane that Watanabe did.
Reading Murakami has accompanied me since university, a time when I am half dreaming and half waking up to the world. Whether I like it or not, his books have influenced me to some extent. Looking back, the plot of his books has intertwined with my life, and the act of reading Murakami itself has become part of my memories and life.
However, in recent years, when reading his new books (particularly published after 2000), the intense excitement has diminished, and I've felt more and more awkward.
To be precise, starting with this one Sputnik Sweetheart, I felt Murakami has been like a chef reheating old dishes. The same ingredients, just rearranged, and a new dish is supposedly created. The main ingredients include:
Male lead: Claims to be an ordinary person, not caring much about anything, but has a taste for music and reading (jazz, classical, literary books), exercises, is hygienic, and prefers simplicity in clothing and food (there are scenes of ironing shirts and cooking pasta), not wealthy but not short of money, dislikes socializing but has good luck with women (they always come to him, and he can't seem to escape).
Female lead: Not the kind of beauty that is immediately apparent, but always hides a captivating beauty somewhere, such as having devastatingly beautiful ears. Her chest cannot be large and must show a cute shape through thin clothes. As for her personality, in addition to being gentle or cute, she must have some deep-seated but inexplicable problems, and the ending is often suicide or a mysterious disappearance.
Plot: The real world, the world beyond reality, inexplicable evil, historical sins, searching, losing, waiting.
Props: Various artistic and middle-class symbols, such as Perrier water, salmon, whiskey, Beatles records, books, coffee, Godard's films, BMW cars, Greek islands, two daughters...
I don’t know but I really have a strong feeling that this novel is just a rearrangement of these ingredients. Compared to his previous works, even the techniques of permutation and combination are a bit lacking. I read this book in mandarin, and I didn't like it, and this time I read the English version. Without Lin Shaohua's unique tone, it was easier to be distracted, and the shortcomings were more exposed. Allow me to rant about a few passages:
When the male lead and Sumire first met:
"I was at the bus stop in front of the main gate of the college, standing there reading a Paul Nizan novel I’d found in a used-book store. A short girl beside me leaned over, took a look at the book, and asked me, Why Nizan, of all people?"
Why do I often get rolled my eyes at but never get hit on when I walk around reading literary fiction? The male leads in Murakami's novels would never take the initiative; all the girls actively approach them. How many introverted, nerdy guys has this ruined? Also, why Paul Nizan? Marxism?
After a while, Sumire finally leaned against the male lead's shoulder (again, let me point out that it was the woman who took the initiative). Let's look at the male lead's perspective:
"Sumire rested her head on my shoulder. Her hair was held back by a hair clip, and I could see her small, nicely formed ears. Ears so pretty you’d think they had just been created. Soft, easily injured ears. I could feel her breath on my skin. She had on a pair of short pink pants and a faded, plain navy-blue T-shirt. The outline of her small nipples showed through the shirt. There was a faint odor of sweat. Her sweat and mine, the two odors subtly mixed."
Ears, small breasts, Murakami trapped in adolescence, can't seem to look away from these. Plus, the male lead are well into their 20s, no longer teenagers. The sweat of adult men and women, besides smelling bad, I can't think of any other way to subtly mix it.
Unfortunately, Sumire doesn't like the male lead. She's into women. Sumire admires her female superior, Miu. When she sees Miu in the restaurant:
"Miu was already there, sipping an iced Perrier, deep in conversation with the waiter concerning the menu."
Is Perrier so high and mighty that it still deserves to be named and sipped when it's on sale at Costco, the birthplace of North American literary trauma? And why does ordering a simple meal have to turn into a deep conversation?
"Miu ordered the same thing for both of them. The entrée was a light grilled fish with a touch of green sauce with mushrooms. The slice of fish were done to perfection - browned in an almost artistic way that you knew was just right. Pumpkin gnocchi and a delicate endive salad rounded out the meal. For dessert they had the crème brûlée, which only Summer ate. Miu didn’t touch it. Finally, they had espresso. Sumire observed that Miu took great care about what she ate."
Wow, Japanese really know how to turn everything into an art. Even grilling a fish, they can make it look artistic, perfect, and just right. But what does describing food in such detail have to do with the plot or character development? Does the fact that Miu didn't eat creme brulee mean she's healthy and refined? Why is eating a meal so complicated?
Sumire mysteriously disappears on a Greek island, and Miu asks the male lead to fly to the Greek island immediately. With the Sumire's life hanging in the balance, the male lead, as a good friend, immediately packs his bags and takes the earliest flight to Greece, which can be considered a righteous act. However, on the plane, the male lead is able to not worry about Sumire and insists on concentrating on reading Conrad's novel. No matter the circumstances, the concern he expresses seems to boomerang back to himself. What a narcissistic male protagonist, living in his own world.
"I didn’t have much of an appetite, and skipped breakfast. I wanted to keep my mind a blank, so when I was awake I concentrated on reading Conrad."
He bought a book about Greece at the airport because he admitted to knowing almost nothing about Greece and had never considered going there.
However, when he set foot on this nameless little island, he could evaluate the island's terrain like a knowledgeable expert, as if he had been to many Greek islands. It feels like Murakami just put his familiar ingredients here a little and there a little, but he doesn't realize the flavors clash.
I really found the 18-page long section detailing the male lead's flight to Greece (primarily focusing on airport experiences, in-flight scenes, and ferry life) to be rather superfluous. In a novel of less than 230 pages, this extended travelogue seems to contribute little to the overall plot or character development.
At the end of the story, the male lead returns to reality and continues his job as a teacher. One of his students is caught stealing and he goes to pick up the child. The following is a description of the child. Similar to the typical verbose style of Murakami, this description of the child feels convoluted, increasingly vague, and increasingly dark. Even after such a long passage, it remains unclear what kind of child this is.
"We exchanged a quick glance, and I turned to her son. His name was Shin’ichi Nimura, but his classmates had nicknamed him Carrot. With his long, thin face and his shock of unkempt, curly hair, the name fit. I usually called him that, too. He was a quiet boy, hardly ever speaking more than was necessary. His grades weren’t bad; he rarely forgot to bring his homework and never failed to do his share of the cleaning up. Never got into trouble. But he lacked initiative and never once raised his hand in class. Carrot’s classmates didn’t dislike him, but he wasn’t what you’d call popular. This didn’t please his mother much, but from my point of view he was a good kid."
See? It's a story out of reach, a tale that has faded, a narrative pitting this world against another, and a recurring theme in Murakami's works.
I wonder if my tastes have shifted, or if Murakami's style has developed over time.
2.5 / 5 stars
My other reviews of Murakami's Work:
The City and Its Uncertain Walls
Norwegian Wood
1Q84
Hear the Wind Sing
Kafka on the Shore
Sputnik Sweetheart
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
South of the Border, West of the Sun
After Dark
Reading Murakami has accompanied me since university, a time when I am half dreaming and half waking up to the world. Whether I like it or not, his books have influenced me to some extent. Looking back, the plot of his books has intertwined with my life, and the act of reading Murakami itself has become part of my memories and life.
However, in recent years, when reading his new books (particularly published after 2000), the intense excitement has diminished, and I've felt more and more awkward.
To be precise, starting with this one Sputnik Sweetheart, I felt Murakami has been like a chef reheating old dishes. The same ingredients, just rearranged, and a new dish is supposedly created. The main ingredients include:
Male lead: Claims to be an ordinary person, not caring much about anything, but has a taste for music and reading (jazz, classical, literary books), exercises, is hygienic, and prefers simplicity in clothing and food (there are scenes of ironing shirts and cooking pasta), not wealthy but not short of money, dislikes socializing but has good luck with women (they always come to him, and he can't seem to escape).
Female lead: Not the kind of beauty that is immediately apparent, but always hides a captivating beauty somewhere, such as having devastatingly beautiful ears. Her chest cannot be large and must show a cute shape through thin clothes. As for her personality, in addition to being gentle or cute, she must have some deep-seated but inexplicable problems, and the ending is often suicide or a mysterious disappearance.
Plot: The real world, the world beyond reality, inexplicable evil, historical sins, searching, losing, waiting.
Props: Various artistic and middle-class symbols, such as Perrier water, salmon, whiskey, Beatles records, books, coffee, Godard's films, BMW cars, Greek islands, two daughters...
I don’t know but I really have a strong feeling that this novel is just a rearrangement of these ingredients. Compared to his previous works, even the techniques of permutation and combination are a bit lacking. I read this book in mandarin, and I didn't like it, and this time I read the English version. Without Lin Shaohua's unique tone, it was easier to be distracted, and the shortcomings were more exposed. Allow me to rant about a few passages:
When the male lead and Sumire first met:
"I was at the bus stop in front of the main gate of the college, standing there reading a Paul Nizan novel I’d found in a used-book store. A short girl beside me leaned over, took a look at the book, and asked me, Why Nizan, of all people?"
Why do I often get rolled my eyes at but never get hit on when I walk around reading literary fiction? The male leads in Murakami's novels would never take the initiative; all the girls actively approach them. How many introverted, nerdy guys has this ruined? Also, why Paul Nizan? Marxism?
After a while, Sumire finally leaned against the male lead's shoulder (again, let me point out that it was the woman who took the initiative). Let's look at the male lead's perspective:
"Sumire rested her head on my shoulder. Her hair was held back by a hair clip, and I could see her small, nicely formed ears. Ears so pretty you’d think they had just been created. Soft, easily injured ears. I could feel her breath on my skin. She had on a pair of short pink pants and a faded, plain navy-blue T-shirt. The outline of her small nipples showed through the shirt. There was a faint odor of sweat. Her sweat and mine, the two odors subtly mixed."
Ears, small breasts, Murakami trapped in adolescence, can't seem to look away from these. Plus, the male lead are well into their 20s, no longer teenagers. The sweat of adult men and women, besides smelling bad, I can't think of any other way to subtly mix it.
Unfortunately, Sumire doesn't like the male lead. She's into women. Sumire admires her female superior, Miu. When she sees Miu in the restaurant:
"Miu was already there, sipping an iced Perrier, deep in conversation with the waiter concerning the menu."
Is Perrier so high and mighty that it still deserves to be named and sipped when it's on sale at Costco, the birthplace of North American literary trauma? And why does ordering a simple meal have to turn into a deep conversation?
"Miu ordered the same thing for both of them. The entrée was a light grilled fish with a touch of green sauce with mushrooms. The slice of fish were done to perfection - browned in an almost artistic way that you knew was just right. Pumpkin gnocchi and a delicate endive salad rounded out the meal. For dessert they had the crème brûlée, which only Summer ate. Miu didn’t touch it. Finally, they had espresso. Sumire observed that Miu took great care about what she ate."
Wow, Japanese really know how to turn everything into an art. Even grilling a fish, they can make it look artistic, perfect, and just right. But what does describing food in such detail have to do with the plot or character development? Does the fact that Miu didn't eat creme brulee mean she's healthy and refined? Why is eating a meal so complicated?
Sumire mysteriously disappears on a Greek island, and Miu asks the male lead to fly to the Greek island immediately. With the Sumire's life hanging in the balance, the male lead, as a good friend, immediately packs his bags and takes the earliest flight to Greece, which can be considered a righteous act. However, on the plane, the male lead is able to not worry about Sumire and insists on concentrating on reading Conrad's novel. No matter the circumstances, the concern he expresses seems to boomerang back to himself. What a narcissistic male protagonist, living in his own world.
"I didn’t have much of an appetite, and skipped breakfast. I wanted to keep my mind a blank, so when I was awake I concentrated on reading Conrad."
He bought a book about Greece at the airport because he admitted to knowing almost nothing about Greece and had never considered going there.
However, when he set foot on this nameless little island, he could evaluate the island's terrain like a knowledgeable expert, as if he had been to many Greek islands. It feels like Murakami just put his familiar ingredients here a little and there a little, but he doesn't realize the flavors clash.
I really found the 18-page long section detailing the male lead's flight to Greece (primarily focusing on airport experiences, in-flight scenes, and ferry life) to be rather superfluous. In a novel of less than 230 pages, this extended travelogue seems to contribute little to the overall plot or character development.
At the end of the story, the male lead returns to reality and continues his job as a teacher. One of his students is caught stealing and he goes to pick up the child. The following is a description of the child. Similar to the typical verbose style of Murakami, this description of the child feels convoluted, increasingly vague, and increasingly dark. Even after such a long passage, it remains unclear what kind of child this is.
"We exchanged a quick glance, and I turned to her son. His name was Shin’ichi Nimura, but his classmates had nicknamed him Carrot. With his long, thin face and his shock of unkempt, curly hair, the name fit. I usually called him that, too. He was a quiet boy, hardly ever speaking more than was necessary. His grades weren’t bad; he rarely forgot to bring his homework and never failed to do his share of the cleaning up. Never got into trouble. But he lacked initiative and never once raised his hand in class. Carrot’s classmates didn’t dislike him, but he wasn’t what you’d call popular. This didn’t please his mother much, but from my point of view he was a good kid."
See? It's a story out of reach, a tale that has faded, a narrative pitting this world against another, and a recurring theme in Murakami's works.
I wonder if my tastes have shifted, or if Murakami's style has developed over time.
2.5 / 5 stars
My other reviews of Murakami's Work:
The City and Its Uncertain Walls
Norwegian Wood
1Q84
Hear the Wind Sing
Kafka on the Shore
Sputnik Sweetheart
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
South of the Border, West of the Sun
After Dark
June 8, 2019
I don’t always read Murakami, but when I do I prefer reading slowly and letting the writing carry me off like I’m having some kind of lucid dream I never want to wake from. Stay thirsty my friends.
What we have here, at least in the beginning of the book, is what New Order would likely describe as a bizarre love triangle. There is even a paragraph where the narrator takes the time to break down how messed up his situation is: he’s in love with a girl, but she’s in love with an older woman, the older woman likes the girl but not in that kind of way, the older woman and the narrator become friends and seem to really care about each other... things are just... let’s just say if it were 2005 and these three had a Facebook profile they would describe their relationship status as “It’s complicated”.
This thing goes off into other directions though, bending into new genres and telling smaller stories within the larger one, and it was just such a joy to read it. In my opinion, few people write as well as my man Murakami does so no matter what story he tells he locks me in right away. His writing feels effortless, but it really does have this dreamlike quality to it- he drifts in and out of reality, into magical realism and fantasy, while still keeping one foot on the ground. You don’t even feel like when he lifts you up into space and swirls you around before gently drifting back to Earth. He’s like a dentist that gives you a lot of laughing gas and lets you float around for a while, but he never comes back to fill a cavity or give you a root canal. He just shuts off the gas slowly before going home for the day.
And that’s how I would describe Haruki Murakami: a trip to the dentist without the pain and anxiety. I wish I had a better description. I also wish I could describe more of the book to you because it really is much more than a boy is crazy about a girl who doesn’t feel the same way. A lot more happens, and even when nothing happens it doesn’t matter. Just read some Murakami and get lost in one of his books for a while. Also visit the dentist every six months or so.
What we have here, at least in the beginning of the book, is what New Order would likely describe as a bizarre love triangle. There is even a paragraph where the narrator takes the time to break down how messed up his situation is: he’s in love with a girl, but she’s in love with an older woman, the older woman likes the girl but not in that kind of way, the older woman and the narrator become friends and seem to really care about each other... things are just... let’s just say if it were 2005 and these three had a Facebook profile they would describe their relationship status as “It’s complicated”.
This thing goes off into other directions though, bending into new genres and telling smaller stories within the larger one, and it was just such a joy to read it. In my opinion, few people write as well as my man Murakami does so no matter what story he tells he locks me in right away. His writing feels effortless, but it really does have this dreamlike quality to it- he drifts in and out of reality, into magical realism and fantasy, while still keeping one foot on the ground. You don’t even feel like when he lifts you up into space and swirls you around before gently drifting back to Earth. He’s like a dentist that gives you a lot of laughing gas and lets you float around for a while, but he never comes back to fill a cavity or give you a root canal. He just shuts off the gas slowly before going home for the day.
And that’s how I would describe Haruki Murakami: a trip to the dentist without the pain and anxiety. I wish I had a better description. I also wish I could describe more of the book to you because it really is much more than a boy is crazy about a girl who doesn’t feel the same way. A lot more happens, and even when nothing happens it doesn’t matter. Just read some Murakami and get lost in one of his books for a while. Also visit the dentist every six months or so.
October 25, 2022
De esas novelas en las que no tengo mucho por decir más que esta puede resultar una historia del montón si no fuera por ese toque mágico/fantástico; lo surreal como concepto entre sus páginas.
«—Yo también tenía muchas ganas de verte a ti —dijo Sumire—. Después de dejar de verte lo comprendí todo muy bien, a la perfección. Lo vi tan claro como si todos los planetas, de mutuo acuerdo, se hubiesen alineado uno junto al otro. Que te necesito de verdad. Que tú eres una parte de mí, que yo soy una parte de ti.»
Sputnik, mi amor es mi primer acercamiento a Murakami y me ha convencido de leer más cosas entre su bibliografía. Sé y estoy seguro (por las críticas y reseñas de los demás), que no es lo mejor entre su creación literaria pero me resultó un acercamiento más que atractivo y sumamente interesan. Esta es una historia sobre el amor y la imposibilidad del mismo; el amor no correspondido y el deseo sexual presente con mucha intensidad. También sobre la soledad y el vacío que dejan las personas en la vida de los personajes. Es una historia lenta, en la que no pasa casi nada medianamente interesante solo hasta llegar a la mitad y aún así, el hilo conductor sigue llevándonos con una paciencia y una calma que no agrega alguna chicha que cause un terremoto en los conflictos de los personajes.
«Me asomo, alzo los ojos hacia un cielo todavía oscuro. En él, no hay duda, flota una media luna de tonos enmohecidos. Con eso basta. Estamos mirando la misma luna del mismo mundo. Estamos ligados a la realidad por una sola línea.»
A mí me gustó muchísimo los conceptos que engloba y con los que juega todo el tiempo. Es un libro que degusté con la tranquilidad que solo te puede causar estar en medio de la playa con la agradable brisa de compañía; disfrutando de un libro que no es la gran cosa pero que te deja marcado un sabor dulce en la mente que al final se torna demasiado agridulce. Porque sí, es un final que se puede interpretar de la peor forma y eso me ha dejado totalmente sin sosiego.
«—Yo también tenía muchas ganas de verte a ti —dijo Sumire—. Después de dejar de verte lo comprendí todo muy bien, a la perfección. Lo vi tan claro como si todos los planetas, de mutuo acuerdo, se hubiesen alineado uno junto al otro. Que te necesito de verdad. Que tú eres una parte de mí, que yo soy una parte de ti.»
Sputnik, mi amor es mi primer acercamiento a Murakami y me ha convencido de leer más cosas entre su bibliografía. Sé y estoy seguro (por las críticas y reseñas de los demás), que no es lo mejor entre su creación literaria pero me resultó un acercamiento más que atractivo y sumamente interesan. Esta es una historia sobre el amor y la imposibilidad del mismo; el amor no correspondido y el deseo sexual presente con mucha intensidad. También sobre la soledad y el vacío que dejan las personas en la vida de los personajes. Es una historia lenta, en la que no pasa casi nada medianamente interesante solo hasta llegar a la mitad y aún así, el hilo conductor sigue llevándonos con una paciencia y una calma que no agrega alguna chicha que cause un terremoto en los conflictos de los personajes.
«Me asomo, alzo los ojos hacia un cielo todavía oscuro. En él, no hay duda, flota una media luna de tonos enmohecidos. Con eso basta. Estamos mirando la misma luna del mismo mundo. Estamos ligados a la realidad por una sola línea.»
A mí me gustó muchísimo los conceptos que engloba y con los que juega todo el tiempo. Es un libro que degusté con la tranquilidad que solo te puede causar estar en medio de la playa con la agradable brisa de compañía; disfrutando de un libro que no es la gran cosa pero que te deja marcado un sabor dulce en la mente que al final se torna demasiado agridulce. Porque sí, es un final que se puede interpretar de la peor forma y eso me ha dejado totalmente sin sosiego.
October 4, 2021
انتباه: على السادة الذين يشعرون بالوحدة والاغتراب التوجه إلى صالة هاروكي موراكامي!
بمجرد دخولكم القاعة ستغمركم الموسيقى الكلاسيكية منتقاة بعناية من سيمفونيات بيتهوفن وموزارت وشوبان، هذا إلى جانب معزوفة غامضة تسمعها بعد منتصف الليل ولم يُعرف حتى الآن هوية عازفها.
سنأخذكم في جولة ساحرة متعددة المناظر، ما بين مدن يابانية ممطرة، و جُزر يونانية تحظى بشطآن زرقاء صافية وطرق حجرية تنعكس عليها أشعة الشمس بضراوة. كما سنعرّج على الريف الفرنسي لاستراحة قصيرة.
لمحبي قصص الحب من طرف واحد، نقدم لكم قصتيّن من هذا النوع لتغذية حزنكم الدفين وربما لنبش تجاربكم السابقة. أما عشاق الخيالات وأحلام اليقظة، فلن نخيب ظنهم، إذا صبر القارئ حتى الثلث الأخير من الوقت المتاح فسيجد ما يخلب لبّه من ألاعيب هاروكي المعتادة.
نؤكد لكم أنك ستجدون من يتفهم شعوركم بأنكم وحيدون في هذا العالم، وأنكم غرباء حتى عن أقرب الناس إليكم،
يُمنع اصطحاب السادة الذين يستثير الحديث عن العلاقات المثلية حفيظتهم، وأولئك الذين تستفزهم النهايات المبهمة، حرصاً على سلامة الجميع.
حتى موعد زيارتكم نترككم مع عينة من خدماتنا عبر هذا الاقتباس:
"لماذا على الناس أن يكونوا وحيدين هكذا؟ ما الغاية من ذلك؟ ملايين البشر في هذا العالم، كلهم يرنون وينظرون إلى الآخرين لإرضائهم ومع ذلك يعزون أنفسهم. لماذا؟ هل وضعت الأرض هنا لتعزيز وحدة البشر؟"
بمجرد دخولكم القاعة ستغمركم الموسيقى الكلاسيكية منتقاة بعناية من سيمفونيات بيتهوفن وموزارت وشوبان، هذا إلى جانب معزوفة غامضة تسمعها بعد منتصف الليل ولم يُعرف حتى الآن هوية عازفها.
سنأخذكم في جولة ساحرة متعددة المناظر، ما بين مدن يابانية ممطرة، و جُزر يونانية تحظى بشطآن زرقاء صافية وطرق حجرية تنعكس عليها أشعة الشمس بضراوة. كما سنعرّج على الريف الفرنسي لاستراحة قصيرة.
لمحبي قصص الحب من طرف واحد، نقدم لكم قصتيّن من هذا النوع لتغذية حزنكم الدفين وربما لنبش تجاربكم السابقة. أما عشاق الخيالات وأحلام اليقظة، فلن نخيب ظنهم، إذا صبر القارئ حتى الثلث الأخير من الوقت المتاح فسيجد ما يخلب لبّه من ألاعيب هاروكي المعتادة.
نؤكد لكم أنك ستجدون من يتفهم شعوركم بأنكم وحيدون في هذا العالم، وأنكم غرباء حتى عن أقرب الناس إليكم،
يُمنع اصطحاب السادة الذين يستثير الحديث عن العلاقات المثلية حفيظتهم، وأولئك الذين تستفزهم النهايات المبهمة، حرصاً على سلامة الجميع.
حتى موعد زيارتكم نترككم مع عينة من خدماتنا عبر هذا الاقتباس:
"لماذا على الناس أن يكونوا وحيدين هكذا؟ ما الغاية من ذلك؟ ملايين البشر في هذا العالم، كلهم يرنون وينظرون إلى الآخرين لإرضائهم ومع ذلك يعزون أنفسهم. لماذا؟ هل وضعت الأرض هنا لتعزيز وحدة البشر؟"
May 26, 2022
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It would be safe to say that I do have a bit of an uneasy relationship with Murakami’s work. I read and was not blown away by it. Over the last couple of months, I have picked up several of his short story collections but never felt compelled to finish them. The main reason why I do not get on with his work is that, well, his women are on a league of their own when it comes to female characters written by male authors. I cringed many times while reading Sputnik Sweetheart: his portrayal of the romantic/sexual relationship between Sumire and Miu, the two women at the centre of the narrative, was yikes. It often went from being slightly ridiculous to straight-up ludicrous. That he chooses to tell their story through ‘K’, our male straight narrator, is also somewhat iffy. While K acknowledges that it may be unusual for him to tell Sumire’s love story, he doesn’t provide a particularly satisfying answer. I mean, I honestly think this could have been a much stronger novel if the narrative had alternated between Sumire and Miu. Anyway, we are stuck with K and his creepy male gaze. When we first meet him he is a college student who has fallen in love with Sumire, who is very much the classic Murakami female character, in that she’s Not Like Other Girls. She’s messy and in the throes of an existentialist crisis. She often confides in K about her fears and desire, and he takes on the role of listener, never revealing anything particularly substantial about himself, keeping readers and Sumire at arm's length. He often recounts Sumire's experiences from her point of view, which obviously necessitates our suspension of disbelief, given that he would really have no way of being able to provide such detailed descriptions of her experiences, let alone her inner feelings. Anyway, K gives us an impression of what kind of person Sumire is, her somewhat skewed worldview, and speaks of her writerly aspirations. Eventually, Sumire reveals to him that for the first time in her life she has fallen in love. K is disappointed to learn that he is not the person in question and that Sumire has fallen for Miu, an older businesswoman of Korean heritage. Sumire begins to act in a way that Miu approves of, changing her style etc. to earn Miu’s favor. As Sumire begins to work for Miu, her feelings intensify to the point where she is no longer able to contain her emotions. During a work trip to an island on the coast of Greece Sumire disappears. Miu contacts K and he travels there. Although Miu tells him of the events that led to Sumire’s ‘vanishing’, the two struggle to make sense of what led Sumire to just disappear. Here in classic Murakami fashion things take a surreal route, as the line between dreams and reality becomes increasingly blurry. There are feverish visions that lead to life-altering consequences, hypnotic dreams, and, of course, inexplicable disappearances. The ‘intimate’ cast of characters does result in fairly charged dynamics between Sumire, Miu, and K. K, of course, did serve a somewhat unnecessary role but by the end, I could see why someone as lonely as Sumire would find comfort in his continued presence. They have bizarre conversations about human nature, love, sex, and so forth, and some of these were fairly engaging. Overall, Murakami certainly succeeds in creating and maintaining a dreamlike atmosphere and a melancholy mood. The late 90s setting casts a nostalgic haze over the events being recounted by K. I just wish that Murakami's depiction of women and lesbians wasn’t so corny. From the way he describes women's pubic hair to his strongly held belief that women are obsessed by their breasts (particularly nipples), to his dubious comments and takes on same-sex love….well, it was not for me. I found his language turgid in these instances, either funny in a that’s-idiotic-kind-of-way or just plain gross.
There are other classic Murakami elements: characters who love talking about literature, jazz bars, and classical music. While K is more mysterious than his usual male characters he was not exactly an improvement model. He has some rapey thoughts and instincts that were definitely off-putting. Miu’s strange ‘affliction’ is also quite out there and I found Sumire’s attempts at a ‘declaration’ to be problematic indeed as it bordered on sexual assault. But if you can put up with dated and frequently icky content Sputnik Sweetheart does present readers with an immersive tale of yearning and loneliness. I appreciated the storyline’s unresolved nature and the sense of surreality that permeates it. I will probably read more by Murakami but I will do so when I am in the right state of mind to put up with his peculiar sexism.
It would be safe to say that I do have a bit of an uneasy relationship with Murakami’s work. I read and was not blown away by it. Over the last couple of months, I have picked up several of his short story collections but never felt compelled to finish them. The main reason why I do not get on with his work is that, well, his women are on a league of their own when it comes to female characters written by male authors. I cringed many times while reading Sputnik Sweetheart: his portrayal of the romantic/sexual relationship between Sumire and Miu, the two women at the centre of the narrative, was yikes. It often went from being slightly ridiculous to straight-up ludicrous. That he chooses to tell their story through ‘K’, our male straight narrator, is also somewhat iffy. While K acknowledges that it may be unusual for him to tell Sumire’s love story, he doesn’t provide a particularly satisfying answer. I mean, I honestly think this could have been a much stronger novel if the narrative had alternated between Sumire and Miu. Anyway, we are stuck with K and his creepy male gaze. When we first meet him he is a college student who has fallen in love with Sumire, who is very much the classic Murakami female character, in that she’s Not Like Other Girls. She’s messy and in the throes of an existentialist crisis. She often confides in K about her fears and desire, and he takes on the role of listener, never revealing anything particularly substantial about himself, keeping readers and Sumire at arm's length. He often recounts Sumire's experiences from her point of view, which obviously necessitates our suspension of disbelief, given that he would really have no way of being able to provide such detailed descriptions of her experiences, let alone her inner feelings. Anyway, K gives us an impression of what kind of person Sumire is, her somewhat skewed worldview, and speaks of her writerly aspirations. Eventually, Sumire reveals to him that for the first time in her life she has fallen in love. K is disappointed to learn that he is not the person in question and that Sumire has fallen for Miu, an older businesswoman of Korean heritage. Sumire begins to act in a way that Miu approves of, changing her style etc. to earn Miu’s favor. As Sumire begins to work for Miu, her feelings intensify to the point where she is no longer able to contain her emotions. During a work trip to an island on the coast of Greece Sumire disappears. Miu contacts K and he travels there. Although Miu tells him of the events that led to Sumire’s ‘vanishing’, the two struggle to make sense of what led Sumire to just disappear. Here in classic Murakami fashion things take a surreal route, as the line between dreams and reality becomes increasingly blurry. There are feverish visions that lead to life-altering consequences, hypnotic dreams, and, of course, inexplicable disappearances. The ‘intimate’ cast of characters does result in fairly charged dynamics between Sumire, Miu, and K. K, of course, did serve a somewhat unnecessary role but by the end, I could see why someone as lonely as Sumire would find comfort in his continued presence. They have bizarre conversations about human nature, love, sex, and so forth, and some of these were fairly engaging. Overall, Murakami certainly succeeds in creating and maintaining a dreamlike atmosphere and a melancholy mood. The late 90s setting casts a nostalgic haze over the events being recounted by K. I just wish that Murakami's depiction of women and lesbians wasn’t so corny. From the way he describes women's pubic hair to his strongly held belief that women are obsessed by their breasts (particularly nipples), to his dubious comments and takes on same-sex love….well, it was not for me. I found his language turgid in these instances, either funny in a that’s-idiotic-kind-of-way or just plain gross.
There are other classic Murakami elements: characters who love talking about literature, jazz bars, and classical music. While K is more mysterious than his usual male characters he was not exactly an improvement model. He has some rapey thoughts and instincts that were definitely off-putting. Miu’s strange ‘affliction’ is also quite out there and I found Sumire’s attempts at a ‘declaration’ to be problematic indeed as it bordered on sexual assault. But if you can put up with dated and frequently icky content Sputnik Sweetheart does present readers with an immersive tale of yearning and loneliness. I appreciated the storyline’s unresolved nature and the sense of surreality that permeates it. I will probably read more by Murakami but I will do so when I am in the right state of mind to put up with his peculiar sexism.
February 4, 2016
“The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.”
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
A disappearing woman. Classical music. Cats. Dreams. Yup, I just finished another Murakami novel. I'm going to sleep and dream on this one tonight and write the review tomorrow. No really. I fully intend to write a real review, I'm just uncertain how I feel. Half of me wants to write a review, but the other half just wants to look longingly out the window, go to the beach, or sit in a restaurant and eat some nice Greek food. That should pass after a good night's sleep and I should be able to decide where Sputnik Sweetheart belongs in my catalog of Murakami. Until then, I will go outside check out the stars and look for lonely satellites of love.
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
A disappearing woman. Classical music. Cats. Dreams. Yup, I just finished another Murakami novel. I'm going to sleep and dream on this one tonight and write the review tomorrow. No really. I fully intend to write a real review, I'm just uncertain how I feel. Half of me wants to write a review, but the other half just wants to look longingly out the window, go to the beach, or sit in a restaurant and eat some nice Greek food. That should pass after a good night's sleep and I should be able to decide where Sputnik Sweetheart belongs in my catalog of Murakami. Until then, I will go outside check out the stars and look for lonely satellites of love.
June 23, 2025
There is a passage in this quite early on that refers to love arriving out of nowhere like a tornado. It's just a pity this novel couldn't produce the power and unforgettable nature of one of them. This was a pretty weak effort when compared to some of his others. For me, the Murakami magic touch just wasn't there. Never mind a tornado, this had about as much force as a mouse passing wind. Something tells me I should gone with The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle instead. One thing I will say as a positive though, is that Sputnik Sweetheart was never predictable. It shifted into a different kettle of fish about halfway in, with the mysterious disappearance on a Greek island of one of its main characters, and a Ferris wheel ride that goes into the realms of a hypnotic other worldly state. I thought it might at least start to get suspenseful and unsettling, but I found it to be neither. On an emotional level too, despite themes of loneliness, isolation and yearning within the narrative, the female characters of Sumire and Miu didn't leave me feeling much. The narrator, K, who clearly liked Sumire a lot; getting uncontrollable hard-ons in her presence, only became more of a character I felt something for around the time it was all about to end. The most I've ever been moved by Murakami characters; right deep down inside, was in South of the Border, West of the Sun. That was miles better than this.
December 3, 2010
A moment in my life that has come back to haunt me during times of communication difficulty is when I told my grandmother that I hated to repeatedly shout out what I'd said for my mostly deaf grandfather because it made what I'd said sound stupid. Her response was that it was stupid all along, or something like that.
I've decided that reading translated works and translating them again with one's mind, experiences, what have you is like doing a cover song. Jeff Buckley actually used another Leonard Cohen song in his working of Cohen's Hallelujah. (I can't remember which one off the top of my head. This is going to bug me.) (Tv shows need to be more original. They can't use any other song?! My favorite Homicide: Life on the Street did it first, at least.) I mix up Murakami books in my mind. I'm not entirely sure that my favorite remembered things about Sputnik Sweetheart were actually in this particular book.
The wish to have someone you could call up at three in the morning and talk about anything you wanted. Even if they were asleep.
Noooo, that's not what I meant! Leave me alone, Rob!
Maybe I wouldn't like this book if I reread it. It's sorta caught in my mind of my ex. Speaking of Cohen, my ex hated him because he sang about being alone and yet always had lots of women. It smacked of "No one loves ME" resentment, which kinda sucked hearing from the guy you were with. (He wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than total world love.) Anyway, the narrator reminded me of him. I might hate that now... That's one problem that I do have with Murakami. His strength of seeing the sinister possibility or shadows of something that was always there is also too everyman at times when it comes to things like relationships. Like there are SUPPOSED to be these set rules that everybody follows with men and women. Or I could be remembering it wrong. We're not supposed to be anyone else. That's the beautiful thing about not always understanding what the hell anyone means. I dislike the general male-y everymanly things.
Still would want to talk at 3 a.m with the imaginary person who might actually get it and not care if they didn't.... (Shit. That fucking song is in my head now.)
I loved the description that the girl looked like she'd grow a beard if she could. I love descriptions like that 'cause that speaks to my brain functions in a way I can actually picture it. I think it was Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World that described the chick as looking good like playing a best friend of the lead in a movie. (The Flight of the Conchords did it even better. "You could be a part time model!")
My favorite part is the girl who splits into two people. That feeling lived in my eyes right off the pages.
You know what I really hate more than just about anything? Anyone who will respond to heart ache with a tale about how someone else has it worse (my ex EXcelled at this) like that means you should shut up. These people are always the ones who whine about the small shit, spare no self-pity. Whatever. I pretty much think those people should fuck off. If there's an everymanliness about the sex stuff (I didn't care if it was amazing to find a big girl hot, for example. Wonderland? I think?), Murakami is wonderful about the heart aches that matter because those are the beats you can hear pounding in your ears, no matter what else (shit talk) is drowning out the rest.
I wish I could read braille. I wonder what it would be like to translate words into finger touches.
I've decided that reading translated works and translating them again with one's mind, experiences, what have you is like doing a cover song. Jeff Buckley actually used another Leonard Cohen song in his working of Cohen's Hallelujah. (I can't remember which one off the top of my head. This is going to bug me.) (Tv shows need to be more original. They can't use any other song?! My favorite Homicide: Life on the Street did it first, at least.) I mix up Murakami books in my mind. I'm not entirely sure that my favorite remembered things about Sputnik Sweetheart were actually in this particular book.
The wish to have someone you could call up at three in the morning and talk about anything you wanted. Even if they were asleep.
Noooo, that's not what I meant! Leave me alone, Rob!
Maybe I wouldn't like this book if I reread it. It's sorta caught in my mind of my ex. Speaking of Cohen, my ex hated him because he sang about being alone and yet always had lots of women. It smacked of "No one loves ME" resentment, which kinda sucked hearing from the guy you were with. (He wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than total world love.) Anyway, the narrator reminded me of him. I might hate that now... That's one problem that I do have with Murakami. His strength of seeing the sinister possibility or shadows of something that was always there is also too everyman at times when it comes to things like relationships. Like there are SUPPOSED to be these set rules that everybody follows with men and women. Or I could be remembering it wrong. We're not supposed to be anyone else. That's the beautiful thing about not always understanding what the hell anyone means. I dislike the general male-y everymanly things.
Still would want to talk at 3 a.m with the imaginary person who might actually get it and not care if they didn't.... (Shit. That fucking song is in my head now.)
I loved the description that the girl looked like she'd grow a beard if she could. I love descriptions like that 'cause that speaks to my brain functions in a way I can actually picture it. I think it was Murakami's Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World that described the chick as looking good like playing a best friend of the lead in a movie. (The Flight of the Conchords did it even better. "You could be a part time model!")
My favorite part is the girl who splits into two people. That feeling lived in my eyes right off the pages.
You know what I really hate more than just about anything? Anyone who will respond to heart ache with a tale about how someone else has it worse (my ex EXcelled at this) like that means you should shut up. These people are always the ones who whine about the small shit, spare no self-pity. Whatever. I pretty much think those people should fuck off. If there's an everymanliness about the sex stuff (I didn't care if it was amazing to find a big girl hot, for example. Wonderland? I think?), Murakami is wonderful about the heart aches that matter because those are the beats you can hear pounding in your ears, no matter what else (shit talk) is drowning out the rest.
I wish I could read braille. I wonder what it would be like to translate words into finger touches.
September 7, 2023
"We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. Like a small flame. A careful, fortunate few cherish that flame, nurture it, hold it as a torch to light their way. But once that flame goes out, it’s gone forever."
Cats, classical music, other dimensions, a young man in love, great dialogue, a magical feeling.... Sputnik Sweetheart is pure Murakami.
Our narrator "K" is in love with Sumire, and she is in love with an older woman. Something happened to this woman, Miu, years ago that turned her hair preternaturally white and made her feel like half a person.
Sumire disappears and our narrator is left searching for her, searching for love.
It is a mesmerizing novel to read, as I find all of Murakami's novels to be. If you're a fan, you know what I mean. It's hard to describe but even the cadence of his words feels magical.
With most any other author, I have no patience for romantic feelings. It bores me to read about. But with Murakami, it's different. It's a given that there's going to be a young man in love with a young woman. It was wonderful to also have a woman in love with a woman.
There are layers of meaning in this novel though I don't feel the need to analyze them. That's another thing with Murakami - his words hypnotize and relax me where other novels would force me to try to unearth all the symbols.
For a literal-minded brain like mine, it's much more enjoyable to just take the words as they are without needing to figure out what all they could mean. I'll let other reviewers take on that task.
I'm happy to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
"I couldn’t forget that little cat and start loving another.”". 🐈 💔
Cats, classical music, other dimensions, a young man in love, great dialogue, a magical feeling.... Sputnik Sweetheart is pure Murakami.
Our narrator "K" is in love with Sumire, and she is in love with an older woman. Something happened to this woman, Miu, years ago that turned her hair preternaturally white and made her feel like half a person.
Sumire disappears and our narrator is left searching for her, searching for love.
It is a mesmerizing novel to read, as I find all of Murakami's novels to be. If you're a fan, you know what I mean. It's hard to describe but even the cadence of his words feels magical.
With most any other author, I have no patience for romantic feelings. It bores me to read about. But with Murakami, it's different. It's a given that there's going to be a young man in love with a young woman. It was wonderful to also have a woman in love with a woman.
There are layers of meaning in this novel though I don't feel the need to analyze them. That's another thing with Murakami - his words hypnotize and relax me where other novels would force me to try to unearth all the symbols.
For a literal-minded brain like mine, it's much more enjoyable to just take the words as they are without needing to figure out what all they could mean. I'll let other reviewers take on that task.
I'm happy to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
"I couldn’t forget that little cat and start loving another.”". 🐈 💔
July 28, 2020
[4+] Sputnik Sweetheart is a wistful novel about unrequited love and yearning. As usual with Murakami, reading it infused me with wonder and hope. Towards the end (I listened to it) I found myself chanting "Don't End, Don't End! That's is why I'm only giving it 4 stars. I wanted more!
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