Reread this for a book club. I had forgotten what it was about. I recently read Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, a surreal and fun fantasy, and expected something similar. Wrong. I had an overwhelming sense of foreboding while reading Norwegian Wood and couldn't quite figure out why until I got to the Reiko part.
Good bits: This book is beautifully written. I always hear people complaining that Murakami writes women terribly and I actually disagree with that in this case. The women in this book feel like people, and are like-able people, even filtered through the eyes of the narrator Watanabe and through the romanticized distance of the memories he is recounting. The story really beautifully demonstrates how a young person can focus on fixing the suffering of others in order to avoid thinking about their own grief. It shows how a typically male-leaning stoic handling emotions can fail. It has incredibly vivid imagery and the aesthetic of Murakami's stories is always really engrossing.
Bad bits: Unfortunately, all of this is overshadowed by the child rape committed by Reiko. Rereading this now as an adult with an english degree and I think a generally good understanding of how to read fiction that has traumatic themes...Murakami does not handle the child rape well. Like Lolita handles this well and very firmly establishes the unreliability of its narrator. Norwegian Wood does not. Reiko's story is presented with her as the 31-year-old victim of a 13 year old girl who is somehow a sex predator. Her story is told sympathetically, and one could argue this is because of either a) Watanabe being 20 years old and naive or b) Watanabe viewing things through the rosy and kind lens of nostalgia. I genuinely don't believe there is enough textual evidence to argue for either of these explanations though. We're left with this random recounting from a sexual predator about how it wasn't her fault. Watanabe then goes on to sleep with Reiko, who is twice his age, which one must imagine can't do his mental health any good, and yet the narrative presents their sexual experience together as freeing and fun. Is the takeaway here that Watanabe, even 20 years on from these events, is still unwell and just sort of stuck as a damaged person because he never really came to terms with any of the shit that happened to him? I guess it is, which really bums me out. The handling of all this is very vibesy and jumbled for something attempting to tackle this subject matter. I would be okay with a story this viscerally upsetting if the plot weren't so clumsy and directionless.
I reread this after watching Poor Things, wanted a bit more context for what Poor Things was trying to do. Things that stuck out: - I forgot that this story is framed as a story within a story within a story, e.g. an adventurer on a boat in the far north is hearing from Frankenstein about his creation of the monster, and then hearing about the monster's experience. - Poor Things largely seems to be an exercise in asking "what would happen if the monster were treated kindly by most people it encountered?"
I'm a ride or die for the Witcher. Fantastical enough that it's a relaxing and fun read before bed. Philosophical and meaty interpersonal themes that make you really care about the characters. Mass-market fantasy done extremely well.
Quite disappointed by this in all honesty. This was really talked up on various corners of the internet, and I went in blind expecting a modern literary science fiction book that would knock my socks off. It leans more literary than science fiction and suffers from a lack of concrete world building. The romantic writing is genuinely beautiful and often moving, yet the world it takes place in feels vague and unbuilt. I understand that the authors are attempting to dilate a romance story in on two characters, but the hints of a broader sci-fi world felt tantalizing rather than functioning as a backdrop for the romance. I also take issue, more generally, with time travel stories and the sort of recursive undoing that has to occur for any sort of resolution to happen. At this point, this one-trick-time-travelers-don't-tell you has been done so many times before that one always sees the twist coming.
A horror fairytale. Explores questions like: Can you love someone despite them being a monster? Can you love someone despite being a monster? Is embracing the monster within yourselves the source of real love?
Khaw writes gore and body horror in a tenderly visceral way. Beautiful prose containing several levels of fantasy allegories about queerness.
This is the first Stephen King book I've read. Thematically, it tries to do a lot and doesn't quite pull it all off. Themes of alcoholism, how children deal with trauma, race, hints of dealing with gay feelings (these last two are where it really lacks cohesion). The way I see it, if you're going to write with the general bluntness that King uses, you don't really have the leeway to hint at so many disparate themes. On the one hand, I understand the desire to introduce a lot of heavy ideas into your work even when you are writing for as wide of an audience as possible, but on the other, I prefer to rate books on how well they pull off whatever it is they're trying to do. The mix of heady psychosexual themes and pulpy blunt writing sort of turns me off.