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A review by aleckzz
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
4.0
(This is my first Murakami book**)
There’s a lot that could be said about Murakami’s portrayal of women. How they only seem to exist in his books as objects of sex, and of pleasure. Looking at the context of Norwegian Wood, however, his writing oddly works.
We follow Toru as he recounts his experience as a 19-year-old college freshman who had just left his home to live in a communal boarding house. Here, he discovers a lot of things, especially about himself, and how tragically complex his relationship is with sex. He feeds this obsession all the while having only one person in his heart: Naoko, the girl with whom he’s madly in love with, who is also his dead bestfriend’s ex-girlfriend.
Despite their supposed love, however, they rarely get to meet each other as Naoko is admitted to a sanatorium for her psychological troubles. Kizuki’s death is a dark past they both share, and in which they found each other’s comfort and companionship, yet Naoko took it the hardest out of anyone else. It’s during this time of separation when Toru meets Midori, an adventurous and vivacious young woman.
——
Toru’s biggest challenge in the book is “choosing” between Naoko: the gentle and modest girl he spent his childhood being in love with; and Midori, who is in many ways a polar opposite to his beloved Naoko. Ultimately though, he ends up with Midori, following Naoko’s death.
Personally though, I think he would have chosen Midori regardless of Naoko’s fate. I think that deep down, all he wanted—both he and Naoko—was to escape the past. To escape that childhood tainted with his bestfriend’s suicide. Naoko would not have helped him in that case. Naoko still loved Kizuki despite Toru. Their relationship would have been filled with gloomy days, haunted by his bestfriend’s, and her first love’s tragic death.
Midori is none of that. Nothing about her is a reminder of his past. His times spent with Midori are not loomed over by the endless whispering of Kizuki. With Midori, he felt anew.
Naoko had trouble with her words, and Midori had endless words to offer. She spoke her mind, and her mind was full of ideas, aspirations, opinions. Naoko was shy and reserved when it came to sex—Midori was vocal about sex, and wanted to do so many things, curious of so many details (weirdly enough though, they never had sex).
It’s not that he hates his past, or anyone from that time, no; He merely wants to forget, to let go. In Toru’s own words: When he killed himself, he took a part of Toru with him as well. Kizuki will remain seventeen forever, and part of Toru is still seventeen with him. It’s precisely that part of his that is filled with pain, which is why he wants to let it go.
On a more controversial note, I don’t think Toru really loved Naoko. He “loved” her, when she was deeply involved with Kizuki and couldn’t be with him. He “loved” her when he finally saw her again after years of no contact. He “loved” her when he saw her suffering and in pain, and felt pity, like loving her was something he had to do. He loved her the same way you would yearn for a book with a good title despite not knowing its contents,
He merely yearned for her, and in his yearning, crafted an image of Naoko. It was this version of Naoko that he loved.
And frankly, I think Naoko felt the same way, too. Only, Naoko didn’t want to let go of their past. she could not. This was something that they had in common, and both interpreted that connection forged by Kizuki’s death as love. Then again, who could blame them?
A person who is lost in the woods will hold the hands of the first person they see. And if they’re lost for long enough, they will never leave each other’s side. They would feel found, and neither of them would be at fault.
Side note: The sex scene with Toru and Reiko is the most unnecessary detail of this novel. Reiko should have remained a mentor archetype, but I guess Murakami wanted something else. I mean, seriously—that whole part where they were bonding and talking about deep topics was already heartwarming and wholesome. Did they really have to fuck?
There’s a lot that could be said about Murakami’s portrayal of women. How they only seem to exist in his books as objects of sex, and of pleasure. Looking at the context of Norwegian Wood, however, his writing oddly works.
We follow Toru as he recounts his experience as a 19-year-old college freshman who had just left his home to live in a communal boarding house. Here, he discovers a lot of things, especially about himself, and how tragically complex his relationship is with sex. He feeds this obsession all the while having only one person in his heart: Naoko, the girl with whom he’s madly in love with, who is also his dead bestfriend’s ex-girlfriend.
Despite their supposed love, however, they rarely get to meet each other as Naoko is admitted to a sanatorium for her psychological troubles. Kizuki’s death is a dark past they both share, and in which they found each other’s comfort and companionship, yet Naoko took it the hardest out of anyone else. It’s during this time of separation when Toru meets Midori, an adventurous and vivacious young woman.
——
Toru’s biggest challenge in the book is “choosing” between Naoko: the gentle and modest girl he spent his childhood being in love with; and Midori, who is in many ways a polar opposite to his beloved Naoko. Ultimately though, he ends up with Midori, following Naoko’s death.
Personally though, I think he would have chosen Midori regardless of Naoko’s fate. I think that deep down, all he wanted—both he and Naoko—was to escape the past. To escape that childhood tainted with his bestfriend’s suicide. Naoko would not have helped him in that case. Naoko still loved Kizuki despite Toru. Their relationship would have been filled with gloomy days, haunted by his bestfriend’s, and her first love’s tragic death.
Midori is none of that. Nothing about her is a reminder of his past. His times spent with Midori are not loomed over by the endless whispering of Kizuki. With Midori, he felt anew.
Naoko had trouble with her words, and Midori had endless words to offer. She spoke her mind, and her mind was full of ideas, aspirations, opinions. Naoko was shy and reserved when it came to sex—Midori was vocal about sex, and wanted to do so many things, curious of so many details (weirdly enough though, they never had sex).
It’s not that he hates his past, or anyone from that time, no; He merely wants to forget, to let go. In Toru’s own words: When he killed himself, he took a part of Toru with him as well. Kizuki will remain seventeen forever, and part of Toru is still seventeen with him. It’s precisely that part of his that is filled with pain, which is why he wants to let it go.
On a more controversial note, I don’t think Toru really loved Naoko. He “loved” her, when she was deeply involved with Kizuki and couldn’t be with him. He “loved” her when he finally saw her again after years of no contact. He “loved” her when he saw her suffering and in pain, and felt pity, like loving her was something he had to do. He loved her the same way you would yearn for a book with a good title despite not knowing its contents,
He merely yearned for her, and in his yearning, crafted an image of Naoko. It was this version of Naoko that he loved.
And frankly, I think Naoko felt the same way, too. Only, Naoko didn’t want to let go of their past. she could not. This was something that they had in common, and both interpreted that connection forged by Kizuki’s death as love. Then again, who could blame them?
A person who is lost in the woods will hold the hands of the first person they see. And if they’re lost for long enough, they will never leave each other’s side. They would feel found, and neither of them would be at fault.
Side note: The sex scene with Toru and Reiko is the most unnecessary detail of this novel. Reiko should have remained a mentor archetype, but I guess Murakami wanted something else. I mean, seriously—that whole part where they were bonding and talking about deep topics was already heartwarming and wholesome. Did they really have to fuck?