‘Norwegian Wood’ by Haruki Murakami
God, how I love Murakami. I refer in this case to the prolific Kyoto-born novelist responsible for Dance Dance Dance and 1Q84, though, for the record, I am also quite partial to the work of Takashi Murakami, the visual artist known for his daring exhibit at the Palace of Versailles. Anyway…back to the world of literature. Norwegian Wood, which of course takes its name from the well-known Beatles song, was first published by Kodansha in 1987 with the title Noruwei no mori, a direct translation of the English. The novel, Haruki Murakami’s fifth overall, became an instant bestseller and propelled him to superstar status in his native Japan, and to this day the book is still seen as essential reading there. Uncomfortable with this sudden infamy, however, Murakami decamped to Europe and later the USA, returning to Japan only when he felt able to live on his own terms, without the constant glare of the country’s spotlight blazing down on him.
Norwegian Wood opens with now thirty-seven-year-old protagonist Toru Watanabe touching down in Hamburg, presumably on a business trip, though we are given no real clues as to what he is doing there. When his flight lands and the titular Beatles song, a favourite of his first love Naoko, comes trickling in through the overhead speakers he is spirited straight back to his student days, and the memory of Naoko. What follows is a kind of coming-of-age story told in retrospect, a detailed and almost documentary-like depiction of urban university life, first love, and the many, many different kinds of loss. Through Toru’s nostalgia trip (and I use the word nostalgia with its original Greek-derived meaning, for Toru’s reminiscences are both fond and painful), we follow his relationships with two markedly different women: the aforementioned Naoko, beautiful but damaged, and the outspoken, unpredictable Midori. Now, this may all sound a little vague, I know, but packaged together with Murakami’s signature symbolism and poetic nuances, Norwegian Wood is an unforgettably beautiful book - moving in parts, disturbing in others, and quietly brilliant on the whole.
What I appreciate most about Norwegian Wood is how interesting and fully-formed the female characters are. There are no caricatures or stereotypes, although many of them suffer grisly deaths at their own hands. Those who don’t - namely Midori and Reiko - are arguably the most enigmatic and intriguing characters, male or female, in the entire book. Midori can always be relied upon for her brazenness and tendency to say whatever comes into her head, while Reiko - who is more than a decade older than Toru and the others - is a musical virtuoso who has some shocking stories to tell, such as that of being seduced, as a thirty-one-year-old woman, by a thirteen-year-old girl. Yes, really. It makes for either highly exciting or highly uncomfortable reading depending on how you choose to look at it. Either way you won’t forget any of it in a hurry.
This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in April 2012.