This stunning and elegiac novel by the author of the internationally acclaimed Wind-Up Bird Chronicle has sold over 4 million copies in Japan and is now available to American audiences for the first time. It is sure to be a literary event.
Toru, a quiet and preternaturally serious young college student in Tokyo, is devoted to Naoko, a beautiful and introspective young woman, but their mutual passion is marked by the tragic death of their best friend years before. Toru begins to adapt to campus life and the loneliness and isolation he faces there, but Naoko finds the pressures and responsibilities of life unbearable. As she retreats further into her own world, Toru finds himself reaching out to others and drawn to a fiercely independent and sexually liberated young woman.
A poignant story of one college student's romantic coming-of-age, Norwegian Wood takes us to that distant place of a young man's first, hopeless, and heroic love.
|Publisher:||Perfection Learning Corporation|
|Product dimensions:||5.25(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.75(d)|
About the Author
Newly translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin.
Date of Birth:January 12, 1949
Place of Birth:Kyoto, Japan
Education:Waseda University, 1973
Read an Excerpt
I was thirty-seven then, strapped in my seat as the huge 747 plunged through dense cloud cover on approach to the Hamburg airport. Cold November rains drenched the earth and lent everything the gloomy air of a Flemish landscape: the ground crew in rain gear, a flag atop a squat airport building, a BMW billboard. So-Germany again.
Once the plane was on the ground, soft music began to flow from the ceiling speakers: a sweet orchestral cover version of the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood." The melody never failed to send a shudder through me, but this time it hit me harder than ever.
I bent forward in my seat, face in hands to keep my skull from splitting open. Before long one of the German stewardesses approached and asked in English if I were sick. "No," I said, "just dizzy."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Thanks."
She smiled and left, and the music changed to a Billy Joel tune. I straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.
The plane reached the gate. People began unlatching their seatbelts and pulling baggage from the storage bins, and all the while I was in the meadow. I could smell the grass, feel the wind on my face, hear the cries of the birds. Autumn 1969, and soon I would be twenty.
The stewardess came to check on me again. This time she sat next to me and asked if I was all right.
"I'm fine, thanks," I said with a smile. "Just feeling kind ofblue."
"I know what you mean," she said. "It happens to me, too, every once in a while."
She stood and gave me a lovely smile. "Well, then, have a nice trip. Auf Wiedersehen."
Eighteen years have gone by, and still I can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. Washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, brilliant green. The October breeze set white fronds of head-tall grasses swaying. One long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. It almost hurt to look at that faroff sky. A puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking-a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. We heard no other sounds. We met no other people. We saw only two bright, red birds leap startled from the center of the meadow and dart into the woods. As we ambled along, Naoko spoke to me of wells.
Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene, I hardly paid it any mind. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that eighteen years later I would recall it in such detail. I didn't give a damn about the scenery that day. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together, and then about myself again. It was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me. And worse, I was in love. Love with complications. Scenery was the last thing on my mind.
Now, though, that meadow scene is the first thing that comes back to me. The smell of the grass, the faint chill of the wind, the line of the hills, the barking of a dog: these are the first things, and they come with absolute clarity. I feel as if I can reach out and trace them with a fingertip. And yet, as clear as the scene may be, no one is in it. No one. Naoko is not there, and neither am I. Where could we have disappeared to? How could such a thing have happened? Everything that seemed so important back then-Naoko, and the self I was then, and the world I had then: where could they have all gone? It's true, I can't even bring back Naoko's face-not right away, at least. All I'm left holding is a background, sheer scenery, with no people up front.
True, given time enough, I can bring back her face. I start joining images-her tiny, cold hand; her straight, black hair so smooth and cool to the touch; a soft, rounded earlobe and the microscopic mole just beneath it; the camel's hair coat she wore in the winter; her habit of looking straight into your eyes when asking a question; the slight trembling that would come to her voice now and then (as if she were speaking on a windy hilltop)-and suddenly her face is there, always in profile at first, because Naoko and I were always out walking together, side by side. Then she turns to me, and smiles, and tilts her head just a bit, and begins to speak, and she looks into my eyes as if trying to catch the image of a minnow that has darted across the pool of a limpid spring.
I do need that time, though, for Naoko's face to appear. And as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. The sad truth is that what I could recall in five seconds all too soon needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute-like shadows lengthening at dusk. Someday, I suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness. There is no way around it: my memory is growing ever more distant from the spot where Naoko used to stand-ever more distant from the spot where my old self used to stand. And nothing but scenery, that view of the meadow in October, returns again and again to me like a symbolic scene in a movie. Each time it appears, it delivers a kick to some part of my mind. "Wake up," it says. "I'm still here. Wake up and think about it. Think about why I'm still here." The kicking never hurts me. There's no pain at all. just a hollow sound that echoes with each kick. And even that is bound to fade one day. At the Hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual. Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.
Let's see, now, what was Naoko talking about that day?
Of course: the "field well." I have no idea whether such a well ever existed, It might have been an image or a sign that existed only inside Naoko, like all the other things she used to spin into existence inside her mind in those dark days. Once she had described it to me, though, I was never able to think of that meadow scene without the well. From that day forward, the image of a thing I had never laid eyes on became inseparably fused to the actual scene of the field that lay before me. I can go so far as to describe the well in minute detail. It lay precisely on the border where the meadow ended and the woods began-a dark opening in the earth a yard across, hidden by the meadow grass. Nothing marked its perimeter-no fence, no stone curb (at least not one that rose above ground level). It was nothing but a hole, a mouth open wide. The stones of its collar had been weathered and turned a strange muddy white. They were cracked and had chunks missing, and a little green lizard slithered into an open seam. You could lean over the edge and peer down to see nothing. All I knew about the well was its frightening depth. It was deep beyond measuring, and crammed full of darkness, as if all the world's darknesses had been boiled down to their ultimate density.
"It's really, really deep," said Naoko, choosing her words with care. She would speak that way sometimes, slowing down to find the exact word she was looking for. "But no one knows where it is," she continued. "The one thing I know for sure is that it's around here somewhere."
Hands thrust into the pockets of her tweed jacket, she smiled at me as if to say "It's true!"
"Then it must be incredibly dangerous," I said. "A deep well, but nobody knows where it is. You could fall in and that'd be the end of you."
"The end. Aaaaaaaah, splat. Finished."
"Things like that must actually happen."
"They do, every once in a while. Maybe once in two or three years. Somebody disappears all of a sudden, and they just can't find him. So then the people around here say, 'Oh, he fell in the field well.'"
"Not a nice way to die," I said.
"No, it's a terrible way to die," said Naoko, brushing a cluster of grass seed from her jacket. "The best thing would be to break your neck, but you'd probably just break your leg and then you couldn't do a thing. You'd yell at the top of your lungs, but nobody'd hear you, and you couldn't expect anybody to find you, and you'd have centipedes and spiders crawling all over you, and the bones of the ones who died before are scattered all around you, and it's dark and soggy, and way overhead there's this tiny, tiny circle of light like a winter moon. You die there in this place, little by little, all by yourself."
"Yuck, just thinking about it makes my flesh creep," I said. "'Somebody should find the thing and build a wall around it."
"But nobody can find it. So make sure you don't go off the path."
"Don't worry, I won't."
Naoko took her left hand from her pocket and squeezed my hand. "Don't you worry" she said. "You'll be O.K. You could go running all around here in the middle of the night and you'd never fall into the well. And as long as I stick with you, I won't fall in, either."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just know," she said, increasing her grip on my hand and continuing on for a ways in silence. "I know these things. I'm always right. It's got nothing to do with logic: I just feel it. For example, when I'm really close to you like this, I'm not the least bit scared. Nothing dark or evil could ever tempt me."
"Well, that answers that," I said. "All you have to do is stay with me like this all the time."
"Do you mean that?"
"Of course I mean it."
Naoko stopped short. So did I. She put her hands on my shoulders and peered into my eyes. Deep within her own pupils a heavy, black liquid swirled in a strange whirlpool pattern. Those beautiful eyes of hers were looking inside me for a long, long time. Then she stretched to her full height and touched her cheek to mine. It was a marvelous, warm gesture that stopped my heart for a moment.
"Thank you," she said.
"My pleasure," I answered.
"I'm so happy you said that, Really happy," she said with a sad smile. "But it's impossible."
"It would be wrong. It would be terrible. It-"
Naoko clamped her mouth shut and started walking again. I could tell that all kinds of thoughts were whirling around in her head, so rather than intrude on them I kept silent and walked by her side.
"It would just be wrong-wrong for you, wrong for me," she said after a long pause.
"Wrong how?" I murmured.
"Don't you see? It's just not possible for one person to watch over another person for ever and ever. I mean, say we got married. You'd have to go to work during the day. Who's going to watch over me while you're away? Or say you have to go on a business trip, who's going to watch over me then? Can I be glued to you every minute of our lives? What kind of equality would there be in that? What kind of relationship would that be? Sooner or later you'd get sick of me. You'd wonder what you were doing with your life, why you were spending all your time babysitting this woman. I couldn't stand that. It wouldn't solve any of my problems."
"But your problems are not going to continue for the rest of your life," I said, touching her back. "They'll end eventually. And when they do, we'll stop and think about how to go on from there. Maybe you will have to help me. We're not running our lives according to some account book. If you need me, use me. Don't you see? Why do you have to be so rigid? Relax, let your guard down. You're all tensed up so you always expect the worst. Relax your body, and the rest of you will lighten up."
"How can you say that?" she asked in a voice drained of feeling.
Naoko's voice alerted me to the possibility that I had said something I shouldn't have.
"Tell me how you could say such a thing," she said, staring down at the ground beneath her feet. "You're not telling me anything I don't know already. 'Relax your body, and the rest of you will lighten up' What's the point of saying that to me? If I relaxed my body now, I'd fall apart. I've always lived like this, and it's the only way I know how to go on living. If I relaxed for a second, I'd never find my way back. I'd go to pieces, and the pieces would be blown away. Why can't you see that? How can you talk about watching over me if you can't see that?"
I said nothing in return.
"I'm confused. Really confused. And it's a lot deeper than you think. Deeper . . . darker . . . colder. But tell me something. How could you have slept with me that time? How could you have done such a thing? Why didn't you just leave me alone?"
Now we were walking through the frightful silence of a pine wood. The desiccated corpses of cicadas that had died at the end of the summer littered the surface of the path, crunching beneath our shoes. As if searching for something we'd lost, Naoko and I continued slowly down the path in the woods.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking my arm and shaking her head. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Try not to let what I said bother you. Really, I'm sorry. I was just angry at myself."
Reading Group Guide
1. When Watanabe arrives in Hamburg and hears the song "Norwegian Wood, " memories of a scene with Naoko from eighteen years before come back to him. He feels these memories as "kicks" and says they were "longer and harder than usual. Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. . . . I have to write things down to feel I fully understand them" [p. 5]. Why does this particular song have such a powerful effect on Watanabe? What does he understand—or fail to understand—about it by the end of the novel? In what ways does the process of writing help in understanding?
2. Many readers and critics have observed that Norwegian Wood is Murakami's most autobiographical book. While we can never know exactly to what degree a work of fiction reflects the lived experience of its author, what qualities of the novel feel autobiographical rather than purely fictional? Do these qualities enhance your enjoyment of the book?
3. After Watanabe sleeps with Naoko, he says that "her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm I had ever heard" [p. 40]. Just before she commits suicide, Naoko tells Reiko: "I just don't want anybody going inside me again. I just don't want to be violated like that again—by anybody" [p. 284]. In what sense did Watanabe "violate" her? Do you feel this experience directly relates to her suicide? Was it, as Watanabe still asks himself nearly twenty years later, "the right thing to do"?
4. Throughout the novel, Watanabe is powerfully drawn to both Naoko and Midori. How are these women different from one another? How would you describe the differentkinds of love they offer Watanabe? Why do you think he finally chooses Midori? Has he made the right choice?
5. The events Norwegian Wood relates take place in the late sixties, a period of widespread student unrest. The university Watanabe attends is frequently beset with protests and strikes and, in Watanabe's view, pompous "revolutionary" speeches filled with meaningless cliches. "The true enemy of this bunch, " Watanabe thinks, "was not State Power but Lack of Imagination" [p. 57]. At first, he identifies with the student protesters but then grows cynical. What qualities of Watanabe's character make this cynicism inevitable? What is Midori's reaction to student activism?
6. How would you describe Watanabe's friend Nagasawa? What is his view of life, of the right way to live? Why is Watanabe drawn to him? In what important ways—particularly in their treatment of women—are they different? How does Murakami use the character of Nagasawa to define Watanabe more sharply?
7. The Great Gatsby is Watanabe's favorite book, one that he rereads often. Why do you think he identifies so strongly with Fitzgerald's novel? What does this identification reveal about his character and his worldview?
8. In many ways, Norwegian Wood is a novel about young people struggling to find themselves and survive their various troubles. Kizuki, Hatsumi, Naoko's sister, and Naoko herself fail in this struggle and commit suicide. How do their deaths affect those they leave behind? In what ways does Kizuki's suicide both deepen and tragically limit Watanabe's relationship with Naoko?
9. Murakami's prose rises at times to an incandescent lyricism. The description of Watanabe embracing Naoko is one such instance: "From shoulder to back to hips, I slid my hand again and again, driving the line and the softness of her body into my brain. After we had been in this gentle embrace for a while, Naoko touched her lips to my forehead and slipped out of bed. I could see her pale blue gown flash in the darkness like a fish" [p. 163]. Where else do you find this poetic richness in Norwegian Wood? What does such writing add to the novel? What does it tell us about Watanabe's sensibility?
10. At the center of the novel, Reiko tells the long and painful story of how her life was ruined by a sexual relationship with a young and pathologically dishonest female student. How does this story within the story illuminate other relationships in the novel?
11. What is unusual about the asylum where Reiko and Naoko are staying? What methods of healing are employed there? How do the asylum and the principles on which it is run illuminate the concerns about being "normal" that nearly all the characters in the novel express?
12. Naoko attributes Kizuki's suicide and her own depression to the fact that they shared such an idyllic childhood together and eventually, as adults, had to pay the price for that early happiness. "We didn't pay when we should have, so now the bills are due" [p. 128]. Do you think this is an accurate way of understanding what's happened to them? What alternative explanations would you propose?
13. After Kizuki and Naoko have both committed suicide, Watanabe writes: "I had learned one thing from Kizuki's death, and I believed that I had made it part of myself in the form of a philosophy: 'Death is not the opposite of life but an innate part of life'" [p. 273]. What do you think he means? Is this view of life and death resigned or affirmative? How would such a philosophy change one's approach to life?
14. What makes Midori such an engaging and forceful character? How is she different from everyone else in the novel? What kind of love does she demand from Watanabe? Is she being selfish in her demands or simply asking for what everyone wants but is afraid to pursue?
15. Norwegian Wood appears to end on a happy note with Watanabe calling Midori and telling her: "All I want in the world is you. . . . I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning" [p. 293]. But when Midori asks where he is, Watanabe is plunged into a kind of existential confusion. How do you interpret the novel's final mysterious sentence: "Again and again, I called out for Midori from the dead center of this place that was no place." Is there anything positive in Watanabe's not knowing "where he is"? What is the significance of his being at the "dead center" of no place, wishing for a new beginning?
16. The events of the novel take place in the fictional past. What can you infer about Watanabe's present condition from the way he tells this story? Do you imagine that he and Midori have remained together?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
A love story like no other, but then again, it's not really like any other love story around. It brings to question as to what love is, what do we consider love to be and what exactly are we looking for when we are in love? This book helps bring back an individual who has suffered from a servere break-up or current divorce because it gives the reader a chance to find himself again, and in some case closure or peace of mind. If you're looking to bounce back from depression and enjoy yourself and your own life, I highly recommend this book!!
Sex, love, and neuroses. What more could anyone ask of a novel? Of course, that IS a gross simplification of a novel which presents some fairly complex themes, such as love, identity, duty, and many others. If one is looking for a read with some texture and depth, look no further. However, if one is looking for an easily digestible, pulp fiction read, he should probably look elsewhere.
This is not my favourite novel by Haruki Murakami, but I still enjoyed it. I don`t think it is as great as The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, for instance, but the slow pace of this novel, the dreaminess is great, the characters are very true, very real. It is essentially the story of first and second love and how we open our hearts to another human being, by sometimes risking all that we have. Apparently this is the book that made Murakami famous in the Western world, which I find strange, not because the book is bad, no - it is a great book. But this novel is actually rather different from his other works. I heartily recommend it, but also to read other books from the same author, because they are different.
This book will not only captivate you, but change the way you look at the world. There are not enough stars to give this novel.
For a Murakami novel, Norwegian Wood was really different. It did not involve someone running away or going missing and it didn't have many crazy things going on. It was a more cohesive story than most of his other books.
A not-so-simple story about a doomed love affair. A coming-of-age kind of story. Oddly, some of the construction reminds me of Chaucer's 'A Knight's Tale.' Very interesting, that. Anyway, he's a master at characterization. Sometimes I had to step outside of the novel just to marvel at his technique. Sometimes he reminds me of Lorrie Moore, in the way that he makes observations that hit you, bam, in the solar plexus, making you understand certain truths you hadn't understood before. Or, things you'd never verbalized, even internally. Yes. It's so, so good. Maybe a little melodramatic at times (death, death, death), but if a novelist is supposed to help us understand life, well. Yes.
A modern moving masterpiece. Haruki captures the pulse of true existentialism in the voice of an adolescent. A treasure to store in one's memory.
Before its U.S. publication, I had only heard about how wonderful Haruki's first novel was. I knew that it was the novel that broke sales records in Japan and established him as a premier author who not only appealed to a small cult following, but also was admired by readers around the world. I was excited to finally be able to get my hands on a copy that was not a 500 dollar collector's item. This novel was AMAZING! A simple plot line, realistic characters, and clear, descriptive writing throughout. A must read!
I really liked this book, but I had some problems with it. The unfortunate part is that I didn't like the ending, but that happens to me a lot. I felt it was a bit too graphic for me, sexually, but that's also because I'm a bit squeamish. Honestly, it was masterfully written, and a true joy to read, even during the parts I didn't like. I will be looking for more works of his work to read soon!
This is the first Murakami book that I've read, but I definitely enjoyed it. There wasn't much in the way of suspense, but the characters were well defined and colorful; not to mention twisted in their own unique ways. Although the main character is attending college, the true spice of the narrative comes from his relationships with the women in his life. Isolated in a tiny dorm room struggling with his own demons, the plot rests heavily on the darkness of an incident in his past and how it has come to shape his relationships with those who have equally sordid lives. Bittersweet to the end.
My first and favorite Murakami novel. A more conventional love story than Murakami's other, more existential, tales. I find the settings of this story (the sanatorium especially) to be well-illustrated and detailed. More story-driven and less philosophically driven, than Murakami's later works, but it works well for him here.
With the exception of After Dark, I've now read all of Murakami's novels that have been published in English to date. They're all pretty good, solid, well-written works. However, I prefer those that have elements of magical realism and this wasn't one of them. Nevertheless, I plowed through it in a day and a bit and it was quite a good story.The problem I'm beginning to have with Murakami's novels is that the characters are pretty much identical from book to book1. They're always a Toru-type, a Naoko-type and a Midori-type. It seems that Murakami only knows three character archetypes and he sticks to them. I like to see more variation in characters, though, so I hope the next book mixes things up a little.In short, lots of sadness, lots of romance, lots of f**ked-up people believing they're normal and normal people believing they're f**ked up. You know, the usual. Still, a good book, and I'd definitely recommend it to Murakami-fans.
This is a great book. Read this if you have the opportunity. This book is a recommended for those who wish to become acquainted with Murakami.
Can you imagine a battle to save your mind? What about feeling responsible to save someone else's life. In this unusual coming of age story, Murkami explores the mystery of suicide and natural death and its effects on those left behind. Toru loses two friends to suicide and finds himself struggling to remain in the real world himself. Just as in his fantasy books Muarkami makes you believe in a world that isn't there; here he leads you down a path that eventually has you believing in how easily one could slip over that fine line between hope and hopelessness, between the will to live and living a life without really being in it.Most of the characters are well formed and their purpose within the story is clear, but he leaves a few lose ends. Whatever happened to Toru' s roommate Storm Trooper? And why does the story begin in Germany? Why does he say, "Gemany again." There is no later connection to Germany except that one college friend ends up moving there. Murakami is a master at expressing human passion, weakness, and depth that lies beneath the surface of most people most of the time. This one has an especiallly sweet sadness. It goes deeply into those thoughts we have but never express because in the end, we all know we will lose the ones we love and we have to somehow deal with our sorrow and go on living and try to love again.
Murakami takes over magic realism where Gabriel Garcia Marquez left off. His characters are immediately recognizable, and yet not stale. I thoroughly enjoy his writing style, and yet have a hard time saying any one of his books is my favorite.
Haruki Murakami has really done something special with Norwegian Wood. The story follows a young man, Toru Watanabe, as he transitions from high-school to college life and experiences loss, love, and the real world. Murakami gives the reader a glimpse into Japanese life in the 1960s - the attraction to Western culture, the relationships, the revolutionary ideals, and daily life in general. This beautifully written love story is almost impossible to put down, and the wonderful - and terribly sad - passages will resonate deeply within any reader.
I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me... That line from the Beatles song Norwegian Wood applies quite well to this book.Within the first few pages of Norwegian Wood, I knew I was going to love the novel. Told in a first person narrative style, the story really reads much more as an autobiographical memoir. Midway though, still fully under the spell of the book, I began to wonder could I really say I loved something like this which had this almost overpowering haunt of sadness on it. Even the happy moments don't pull you away from the sadness.So by the end, I'm not sure "love" is a word I would use for this book, which is just an extraordinary coming of age novel set around Tokyo. The imagery in this book is fabulous. The characters without exception are interesting. Emotionally, I am really just bowled over by this book. This is the first book by Haruki Murakami that I have read and I will certainly seek out more of his books. The reviews already written here on LibraryThing are really good at conveying different aspects of the novel.
Norwegian Wood is the story of a certain Toru Watanabe who upon hearing Norwegian Wood(His girlfriends favourite track) begins to recollect his teens and campus days.I don't know what to make of this book. Around 100 or so pages the book got quite boring but then picked up pace again thanks to the introduction of Reiki.The book is peppered with little observations on everyday life which make the book worth reading. Also Murakami sure knows how to describe women with all their flaws and strengths.On the whole I didn't enjoy the book as it was too sentimental for my taste but the fact that I managed to wade through such sentimentality must mean that it is one of the better ones out there.
I feel like this book was an excuse to write porn, but market it as something else. There is like, no story, just sex after sex.I hated it.
I got lost in Murakami's mind, a book full of hidden meanings, life metaphors, it sings without trying too hard. A book you shouldn't lose.
Mawkish with one-dimensional characters and silly dialogue, but it'll touch you in the end if you're emotionally invested at all.
Lovely story of Watanabe as he comes of age, in the Japan of the 60s.
After having read a half dozen or so Murakami books, a fellow avid Murakami reader pointed out I had gone about reading his work in the wrong order and suggested that I should drop whatever else I was reading and start all over again with Norwegian Wood. I¿m glad I did go back to the first book which made Murakami such a big literary sensation in Japan. And after reading this novel, I can see how Murakami¿s work has evolved considerably over time. In comparison say to The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Norwegian Wood is a simple coming of age story simply (and brilliantly) told. Toru is a young college student in Tokyo who¿s days are mostly occupied with going to class and observing life in his campus dorm. He is also in love with Naoko who was once the girlfriend of Toru¿s best friend, who¿s suicide has brought the two of them closer together. But when Naoko, having trouble dealing with daily life, retires to the isolation of a mental health clinic, Toru starts feeling lonely in her absence and comes to meet Midori, an uninhibited and independent-minded young woman who seems to embody the spirit of the freewheeling late 60¿s, and he quickly finds himself irresistibly attracted to her.There are no tricks here, no mysterious magical forces at play, no spies dressed as cats lurking in the corners. What we do find is a vivid account of the years 1969-1970, it's music (the book is named after the Beatles song which is mentioned several times in the story), it's energy and the upheavals the times brought about, Tokyo-style. It¿s a sad story with many insights on relationships, connections and loneliness told in Murakami¿s magic style, in his unique voice which bring a tinge of excitement to everything he touches upon. If you¿ve heard about Murakami and are curious to discover this phenomenal writer, this should be your first stop.I enjoyed it thoroughly but do have a special fondness for Murakami¿s multilayered and intersecting worlds found in some of his later books which is why I gave it
It's so easy to give four stars... Anyway, this is indeed a very good book about love and all that. The main thing I got out of it though was reading a Japanese novel, which is something I don't think I've ever done before. I couldn't stop picturing small, strange Japanese people saying funny things while bowing their heads repetingly...
I was interested in this book because I'm an old Beatles fan, I was a college student in the 60s which is the era this book is written about, this book was a world wide best seller, and I thought it might enhance my understanding of modern Japanese culture. I think the author was trying to write in the spirit of The Great Gatsby. The main character is separated from his girl friend by her mental illness in this case. But the story describes too much sexual activity for me which probably expla.Read in January, 2008