Norwegian Wood

Dec 22, 2011 Ian Graye rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: read-2011, reviews, mura-karmic-wonder-land, reviews-5-stars, nippon

Twenty Revolutions

My most feared birthday was my 20th.

For people older than me, the most significant birthday was their 21st.

But when the age of legal adulthood was reduced to 18, turning 21 no longer had the same significance it once had.

Before then, you could be conscripted into the armed forces at 18, but you could not drink alcohol until you turned 21.

So, if you were old enough to die for your country, surely you were old enough to have a drink?

Either way, turning 20 for me meant that I had...more

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May 16, 2012 Lou rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: adapted-to-screen

This Story is on one side a story of misadventure and a melancholic exploration of adolescent love and another side a thought-provoking and poignant study of memory, morality and mortality. Murakami never disappoints and always writes with a poetic richness that leaves almost every line hanging with symbolic possibility, loved it!
The main protagonist takes you back to the 1960s and his youthful goings on with his peers, his adventures are steamy so comes with adult warning! The story is set in...more

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May 02, 2008 Yulia rated it 2 of 5 stars

Shelves: by-and-of-japan, read-to-me-by-frank

How this book became one of Murakami's most famous and popular baffles me. In fact, when asked about it in an interview, Murakami himself said that he was puzzled by its popularity and that it really isn't what he wants to be known for.

What can I say? There's too little of the characters that do spark my interest and much too much of the depressive girlfriend and her kooky friend at the mental institution. Also, the scenes which were supposed to be funny about his college roommate didn't intere...more

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Mar 28, 2009 Weinz rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: favorites

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.

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Jan 16, 2013 Rajat Ubhaykar rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: favorites

“That song can make me feel so sad,” said Naoko. “I don't know, I guess I imagine myself wandering in a deep wood. I'm all alone and it's cold and dark, and nobody comes to save me. That's why Reiko never plays it unless I request it.”
- Naoko about Norwegian Wood

“It makes me feel like I'm in a big meadow in a soft rain.”
- Naoko about Michelle.

“Thinking back on the year 1969, all that comes to mind for me is a swamp - a deep, sticky bog that feels as if it's going to suck off my shoe each time...more “That song can make me feel so sad,” said Naoko. “I don't know, I guess I imagine myself wandering in a deep wood. I'm all alone and it's cold and dark, and nobody comes to save me. That's why Reiko never plays it unless I request it.”
- Naoko about Norwegian Wood

“It makes me feel like I'm in a big meadow in a soft rain.”
- Naoko about Michelle.

“Thinking back on the year 1969, all that comes to mind for me is a swamp - a deep, sticky bog that feels as if it's going to suck off my shoe each time I take a step. I walk through the mud, exhausted.
In front of me, behind me, I can see nothing but the endless darkness of a swamp.
Time itself slogged along in rhythm with my faltering steps. The people around me had gone on ahead long before, while my time and I hung back, struggling through the mud. The world around me was on the verge of great transformations. Death had already taken John Coltrane who was joined now by so many others. People screamed there would be revolutionary changes- which always seemed to be just ahead, at the curve in the road. But the changes that came were just two-dimensional stage sets, backdrops without substance or meaning.
I trudged along through each day in its turn, rarely looking up, eyes locked on the never-ending swamp that lay before me, planting my right foot, raising my left, planting my left foot, raising my right, never sure where I was, never sure I was headed in the right direction, knowing only that I had to keep moving, one step at a time.”

I'd been waiting for a book like this all my life. A book which holds my hand and takes me to a special place. I don't know who I am in that place, I only remember what I felt. This is it.

They caressed an intimate part of my soul, those idyllic summer afternoons in college spent listening to Rubber Soul with a battered book in hand. I was happy to be exactly where I was. I had nothing to do and nowhere to be. I could have lain there and listened to the opening strains of Girl again and again. Like McCartney, I just needed someone to hear my story. I was very glad to be lost; in conversation, in reflection, in anything which catalyzed and spurred on my natural instinct to dream. I felt like a child who has wandered away after school and has no intention of going home until he has seen some unfamiliar parts of the city. A little part of me was in a crowded street lined with colourful stalls selling delicious food. Another part of me was on a crowded bus looking at adults going about their business and feeling grown up. The world was full of endless possibilities, all of them in parallel realities, comfortably within the reach of my invincible spirit . I was delightfully disoriented, my mind continually wandering, pausing to reflect on women, to the finer aspects of Paul's bass playing, then moving on to the futile task of figuring out my favourite Beatles album.

I was walking down a long corridor of white doors with oak shelves of thoughts and bouquets. I opened one door and found myself in a row of ebony doors, which glistened in the light like someone had splashed water on it and then wiped the floor beneath it clean. I was bewildered to see that there was no way out of this corridor. I went on opening doors, making my way through endless corridors until I reached a corridor with a grey stone wall which stared back at me. The wall dissolved into a girl who had pleaded togetherness through teary eyes. It turned into her fingers brushing against my cheek for the last time, into her lingering scent on my clothes. Then I opened my eyes and the wall reappeared. I trudged along the edge, scratching the wall with my fingernails aching for the white door, but all I found was the wall whose austere intensity asked me to stop all further advances. I craned my neck to see where the wall ended and found a photo of George looking down at me. In my head, Here Comes The Sun started playing. Another song, another trip. On many a cool winter morning, I'd woken up, looked at my sun-tinted window pane and played this song, urged by habit and George's gentle crooning. He was telling me to go and look at that magnificent sun. And so I did. I let that guitar strumming do what it does best, unclog my mind of everything trivially distressing. What remained was the unmistakeable feeling of happiness waiting for me around the bend. It's all right. It's all right.

I had opened my doors to unspeakable things and a jungle awaited me on the other side. I didn't know whether I should get into the fray or let my way take it's final form. I thought I had it; the knowledge of knowing what I was doing.

Those warm afternoons and cool mornings are a bittersweet Beatlesque void in my mind. I ache for that time now and then. Norwegian Wood has the gentleness which comes close to filling that void. The book doesn't fix a fist down the void and widen it. It fills it with honey, enough honey to warm my soul and send sugary shivers of nostalgia down my spine. It affords me one more look through the good ol' retroscope.

This is a book which revels in the past, wallows in the past, afraid to move, trudges along the present dragging its feet on the road making a sound like the languid echoes of Death's footsteps. This is a book about how Death and your past are not beyond your life, they are part of your life. They are part of who you are.

It is pervaded by a spirit of adolescent alienation. You know, that strange unshakeable belief that takes over us at some point in our lives. A voice which whispers to us our deepest fears, that we are vastly different from the rest of the world, that they don't understand who we are and that it's only our fault it is this way. But the tone of the book is not angry or bitter. On the other hand, it's a gentle celebration of this aloofness. It makes you want to feel the intense emotions the characters experience; with dignity.

It's about how close friendships influence our lives, whether you like it or not. At the same time it speaks of a spiritual solitude in us. We have to battle our inner demons at all times and places. No one else can know what's on our mind. We can only hope to touch someone else's life and change it in ways we're unaware of. It tells us that we are players who meet each other at the football field for a game. At times we kick the ball around for a while, laugh heartily among ourselves and leave the field, slapping each others' backs. Sometimes, we accuse each other of unfair play and forget it was just a game.

And all those girls. How can I forget them? Girls who were overcome by the grossness of reality. Girls who weren't strong enough. Girls who didn't want to be strong. Girls who wanted love. Love they thought they deserved, love they didn't know they needed. Girls who shouted when they were angry. Girls who wept in the bathroom under the shower.

The simply seductive prose of the book calls for a sensory reading. A reading that is suspiciously like dreaming, as you are transported to a time and place that is unknown, yet intimate.(less)

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Oct 20, 2012 Kristin rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: i-own-it, read-in-2009, manic-murakami-madness

I can't explain it! I want to inhale the pages of this book, grind them up, and snort them right up my nose! I want in placed directly in my brain, my very Bloodstream! Murakami's words make me feel just like Nicole Kidman in that scene in Moulin Rouge where she is rolling around on that fur rug in her negligee, moaning and writhing in pleasure and saying 'Yes! Yes! Dirty words! More! More! Naughty words!' Although Murakami's words aren't so much naughty and dirty as they are prismatic and myste...more

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May 02, 2012 Garima rated it 4 of 5 stars

I am a brand new Haruki Murakami’s fan and having read Kafka on the Shore as my first novel written by him, I found myself gripped under the surreal and unimaginable experience his writing provided to me as a reader. And that intrigued me to read another of his famous novels, Norwegian Wood. Before reviewing or rather I would say giving my naïve opinion on this book, I better start with my assumptions w.r.t this book.

When we read someone like him, we start expecting something new and better eve...more

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Aug 09, 2012 Nandakishore Varma rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: general-fiction

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...
She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine
We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit...more I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...
She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine
We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit a fire, isn't it good, Norwegian wood.

- The Beatles

Haruki Murakami’s novel Norwegian Wood is a love story: on author’s own confession, “a straight, simple story” quite unlike the type of fiction he is well known for. Murakami claims the novel was a challenge to him, a test of his capability to write a “straight” story; many of his fans see it as a betrayal of what his works had stood for until then. Not having read any of Murakami’s works so far, I had the advantage of approaching it with an unprejudiced mind. And I found that while the story was straight, it was anything but simple.

The novel is one bunch of impressions. The prose is sensual, even voluptuous: descriptions of landscapes and weather are done in long and loving detail. There is very little exploration of inner mental states, other than as broad description of emotions, even though we are listening to only one voice throughout the book. It is rather like stream of consciousness turned outward.

I have been trying to do a traditional review of this book for quite some time now, but have been finding it impossible. So I will give you my impressions of reading the book.

Reading Norwegian Wood (for me) is like sitting on the porch at twilight during a rare break in the rains during the monsoon, watching the golden rays of the dying sun light up the rain-drenched earth, and filling your lungs with the smell of the rain.

Reading Norwegian Wood is like waking up on a winter morning, opening the window and getting hit in the face by an invigorating blast of icy East Wind.

Reading Norwegian Wood is like staying up late, listening to the harmonious cacophony of drums at our local temple festival, inhaling the aroma of the burning lamp wicks and incense.

Highly recommended.
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Apr 03, 2012 Kedar rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: favourite-books, read-in-2012

The Beginning heralds the end. The End initiates a beginning. In between lies a cycle. A cycle where words rain, feelings gush like a river towards the ocean called life, and the ocean hides the abyss of uncertainty. You just sway along this journey, along with Murakami.

"Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right"

Sometimes when you are sitting in peace, ensconced in the metaphorical warmth of a house and you hear the clock chime, making you realize that the time is running fast. It saddens you...more

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Dec 20, 2010 Joel rated it 4 of 5 stars Recommends it for: college juniors

Shelves: personal-collection, 2010, 52-in-2010, translated, compu-text, minus-half-a-star, japan, murakami

This is apparently the Murakami book that "everyone" in Japan has read, and disaffected protagonist Toru Watanabe is apparently a Holden Caulfield-esque figure for a lot of Japanese youth. To me, though, the book less reflects Catcher in the Rye than it predicts Zach Braff's Garden State, an ode to a time in life when the big choices seem so big that you don't end up making them at all, and find yourself instead drawn to the safety and comfort of nostalgia and memory.

Though it's set in Japan, an...more

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Sep 14, 2007 Kate rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: reviewed, alltimefavourites

Book Review: Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (Vintage, London, 2000)

I have never been good at reading translations. It's always in the back of my mind that what I'm reading is not the piece in its original forms: it is not how the author originally wished it to be presented. I don't know, therefore, whether it is to Murakami or Norwegian Wood's translator Jay Rubin who I should give the credit for keeping me thoroughly engaged with this one.

I immediately connected to Toru, the narrator and prota...more Book Review: Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (Vintage, London, 2000)

I have never been good at reading translations. It's always in the back of my mind that what I'm reading is not the piece in its original forms: it is not how the author originally wished it to be presented. I don't know, therefore, whether it is to Murakami or Norwegian Wood's translator Jay Rubin who I should give the credit for keeping me thoroughly engaged with this one.

I immediately connected to Toru, the narrator and protagonist, because he was a university student, a reader, who was 19 and turning 20. Even though the character is in 1960s Japan, so much of the mundane aspects of his every day life were things that I could connect to.

I found the exploration of 'normal' and 'not-normal' incredibly intriguing. Whilst Naoko and Reiko spend most of the novel in a sort of hospital, I never got the impression that they were any more strange than Toru (a self confessed loner), Midori (who has a strange fascination with pornography, and can't cry at her father's funeral), Nagasawa (who doesn't seem to have any real emotions or attachments) or Hatsumi (Nagasawa's long-suffering girlfriend, who comes off as very repressed). Where the difference lies, I think, is that Naoko and Reiko feel unhealthy through their lack of normality, and worry that the way they act, the way they think, hurts others as well as themselves.

Suicide is an issue that runs throughout the novel, and with it (of course) does death. The messages coming through about these things were interesting. It seemed to me that Toru was unsure exactly what death meant to him, except for that 'Death exists, not as the opposite to, but as a part of life.' Looking back at the novel as a whole, I think death is handled in the same sort of way as in the Harry Potter series. (Odd comparison, I know) It has that same questioning nature, and the same raw honesty. It's something I have come to admire in authors when I feel this in their work.

The novel is, more than anything, a coming of age novel about a love triangle. The two relationships work so well that I think as a reader you begin to feel a lot like Toru does: you want him to be with Naoko when she is in the scene, and you want him to be with Midori when she appears. It's not a traditional love triangle I suppose in that the girls do not compete for his heart. They both must just be themselves and see where they end up. It's not a story of epic love and passion, but it's subtle, and seems more real.

The language in which Toru's world and feelings are described is simply gorgeous. I suppose I should credit both Murakami and Rubin here. I guess it's a collaborative effort, in many ways. So many simple sentences just reached out and grabbed me, either for their truth, beauty, wit or oddness.

Overall, this is a fantastic novel that I would recommend to everyone who has experienced (or is still doing so) the rollercoaster ride that is growing up and living without anyone to hold your hand in the best way that you know how.

(Not recommended at all for younger readers, some of the sex scenes and the language is quite graphic, as well as some themes being upsetting. I don't know if I could have read this when I was 16/17 for example, and really understood it.)(less)

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Sep 19, 2011 Connie Cortesi rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2011-reads, kindle-purchased

Great ending. This sure was the saddest book I've ever read. Seems very dark and depressing, but the light comes out at the very end and you can see the sunshine through the clouds. I've never read a book like this and to be honest, I'm not sure I ever want to read another one. It just takes a piece of you and leaves you feeling a little empty. I don't even know how to explain it. It's like traveling up a mountainside on a dark gray day. Yes, the beauty is still there, but you have to look for i...more

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Mar 22, 2010 Abdyka Wirmon rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, shocking, favorites

Murakami dengan sangat cerdas menulis buku ini,dan diterjemahkan secara briliant oleh Jonjon Johana. kata demi kata tertata rapi seperti kamar yang baru saja dibereskan dan diberi pengharum ruangan beraroma terapi. Indah, segar dan membetahkan.

Alurnya sederhana dan mengalir pelan seperti sungai yang jernih dan tenang dengan tokoh yang penuh kebimbangan layaknya manusia nyata dan tanpa basa-basi. pergulatan emosi, dialog, dan sex dipaparkan dengan menawan tanpa harus malu serta merasa jorok, dan...more

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Nov 16, 2007 Katherine rated it 5 of 5 stars

This is supposed to be Murakami's "normal" novel, the one you can give your friends who aren't ready to deal with house-husbands facing their subconscious at the bottom of a well or with doppelgangers trapped in ferris wheels.

The story begins with Toru and Naoko, a pair of painfully shy students whose relationship is always overshadowed by the suicide of their mutual friend many years ago. While Naoko retreats further into herself and her unhappiness, Toru slowly and unconsciously decides to say...more

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Aug 21, 2007 Astrid Reza rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: my-book-shelf

Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always close...more

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Feb 22, 2009 Ben rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: read-in-2009, good-fiction, audio, romantic-love-and-hate, transformative-experience, growing-up, important-message

There are three main themes: The unpredictable nature of growing up, the sadness of death, and love. Essentially it's a love story, and it felt like your typical one, until about halfway through. Then I slowly realized that it had become something so much deeper than that; something so much more.

Part of its attraction had to do with the feeling that I'm similar to--and that I strongly understand--the protagonist. Plus I've had my own complicated set of relationships recently, so the book hit ho...more

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Mar 13, 2013 Pippi Bluestocking rated it 2 of 5 stars Recommends it for: hopeless romantics, people who read what everyone else reads

Shelves: asian

As seen on The Cynical Bookworm.

Might contain spoilers.

Murakami has a fanatic group of followers who praise his books in manners that remind me of sonnets or psalms. After reading this book, I still fail to understand why.

This is, with no doubt, a love story. Only it is a little bit weird, a little bit bohemian, a little bit mentally deranged. Starting with what I liked, I can say that this book grasps the Japanese psyche quite well. Suicide, responsibility and the inability to communicate one's...more As seen on The Cynical Bookworm.

Might contain spoilers.

Murakami has a fanatic group of followers who praise his books in manners that remind me of sonnets or psalms. After reading this book, I still fail to understand why.

This is, with no doubt, a love story. Only it is a little bit weird, a little bit bohemian, a little bit mentally deranged. Starting with what I liked, I can say that this book grasps the Japanese psyche quite well. Suicide, responsibility and the inability to communicate one's own feelings are things that the West normally can't understand, so unless you have an idea how these things work in Japan perhaps this novel will seem too weird, depressing and absurd to you (even though my Japanese friend herself wondered why people in this book kept committing suicide...so I reckon that Mr. Murakami has probably overdone it anyway). Another thing I liked was the occasional glimpse of a writing genius, a nice insight with characters (I really liked Reiko and Midori) and warm imagery. But this genius was, alas, only sporadic. I have no clue about his other novels but this one is too hyped for what it offered me.

I'm afraid to say that what I didn't like was the novel, overall. It was too romantic, too angsty, quite cheesy, somewhat pretentious and a little bit over the top. Sure, the characters were humane and even likeable despite (or perhaps exactly because of) their mental/emotional problems. The novel though was just wandering, without any purpose. I found myself skipping the final 50 pages because I had already figured out the ending from page 60 and trust me, I wouldn't have minded it but I was halfway bored to death reading over and over how the protagonist was obsessed with 'Naoko's flesh' and kept trying to figure out if his life had any meaning which, honestly, it hadn't.

Murakami's view of sex also left me wondering "what the...?!". So many cheesy lines in a much-praised writing style, going on for paragraphs, but mainly it was his (purely patriarchal) opinion that sex = penetration that I found at least patronising and hypocritical. Characters thought like this: "I don't want to do it 'cause I'm mentally unstable but it's totally fine for me to give you handjobs and blowjobs" or "I don't want to cheat on the girl I love, so I just let you give me a set of those h&b and all is fine" - and of course, the girls never get any service from him, they're just born to adore and serve him. Mr. Murakami, hate to break it to you but these things are sex too. I don't care about the spirit of the 70's or (possible?) cultural difference in sexual rituals I ignore; this was ridiculous no matter what the context.

So, my advice is to read any of the books mentioned in NW, such as The Great Gatsby. NW isn't worth half its fame, and I give a second star only for those few moments I genuinely enjoyed (after all, I finished it and I usually drop what I don't like).

My recommendation is that if you want to experience the Japanese slice-of-life style (which I absolutely love) read Banana Yoshimoto. Sure, Murakami is critically acclaimed and Banana just a "pulp" writer (perhaps her prose is much poorer than his too, I admit it), but I find her writing much more sincere, really sweet yet less romantic. Most importantly, she deals with loss in every single story of hers. Guess what: she does this greatly. Murakami though, does not. Unless I missed something here, it's he who did.

Review updated 13.3.13.(less)

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Feb 13, 2012 Osho rated it 1 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 2012

One of the most tiresome books I've ever read, which is especially surprising from Murakami. I suppose I would need to be more familiar with the cultural context of Japan in the mid-1980s to understand why this was such a huge bestseller.

I read this as an audiobook; the narrator rendered the female voices in unappetizing squawks. I looked it up in print. Less intrusive voicing, but it was fundamentally still offputting. "Hey," she said. "Hey," I answered. Do I really need to know every step of...more One of the most tiresome books I've ever read, which is especially surprising from Murakami. I suppose I would need to be more familiar with the cultural context of Japan in the mid-1980s to understand why this was such a huge bestseller.

I read this as an audiobook; the narrator rendered the female voices in unappetizing squawks. I looked it up in print. Less intrusive voicing, but it was fundamentally still offputting. "Hey," she said. "Hey," I answered. Do I really need to know every step of opening a jar? The level of pointless detail and meaningless conversation is astounding, and doesn't seem to serve much purpose.

In my own life, I've tried not to spend time with people who are tedious or pretentious. This was 12-13 hours stuck with those people, leavened only by the unintentional hilarity of their praise for themselves for calling other people pretentious, hypocritical, or mindless. I've also tried to spend time with people with whom the relationship is easy, by which I don't mean simple, but that everyone has good intentions. This novel of brooding, lying, sulking, manipulative, game-playing adolescents illustrates everything you don't want to experience on a date. Oh--except for all the blow jobs and booze. I disliked the characters so much that the sex was quite repulsive. (view spoiler) As for the narrator, though we never learn how he got from the end of the book to the opening framing story, he appears to wind up as something like a salaryman--at least, just some nostalgic guy on a plane--like the people he feels superior to throughout. This point isn't made by the novel, but I certainly noticed it.

An emotionally small novel with none of what makes Murakami sparkle, which is the underlying conviction that weird stuff may be happening, and it will remain somewhat inexplicable to the characters and reader, but it matters to the wellness world. This is a novel about things that don't matter outside a tiny bubble of tortured, brittle college students.

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Jun 17, 2011 Kelly rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, inspiration, kindle, love, cried-like-a-baby, depressing, lit, moving, transcendent, favorites

Close your eyes. Feel the breeze sweep the hair off your neck. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hear the birds welcoming the day. Smell the dew-soaked grass. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes and soak in all the beauty and heartache today has to offer...This is Murakami's greatest ability; he pulls you into his own world and, at the same time, awakens you to your own. It is also his cruelest trick.

And while I love Murakami and could talk about his books all day, it really is difficult to try and b...more

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Apr 04, 2009 Megha rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: reviews

I had started out thinking that at its heart this book was a love story. But it is about so much more than that - love, coming-of-age, death, loss and sorrow. Murakami does an amazing job at putting complicated feelings into words. I loved how he keeps reminding one of the simplest pleasures of life all along the story - beauty of the sunset, walking on a moonlit path, smell of the coffee, freshness of a spring day, caress of a gentle breeze and of course music. It is only fair to give a part of...more

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Jul 29, 2008 Seth Hahne rated it 4 of 5 stars

Having read Kafka on the Shore, Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, After the Quake, and Sputnik Sweetheart, I decided it was high time I read the novel that really put Haruki Murakami on the Map of Superstardom. Norwegian Wood, by all accounts, was the work that made his later triumphs possible. Still, I approached the work guardedly, recognizing that popularity and quality rarely go with hands clasped in loving security.

In short, my fears were deftly allayed.

Norwegian Wood, while boasting none of that sur...more Having read Kafka on the Shore, Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, After the Quake, and Sputnik Sweetheart, I decided it was high time I read the novel that really put Haruki Murakami on the Map of Superstardom. Norwegian Wood, by all accounts, was the work that made his later triumphs possible. Still, I approached the work guardedly, recognizing that popularity and quality rarely go with hands clasped in loving security.

In short, my fears were deftly allayed.

Norwegian Wood, while boasting none of that surreality that drew me so strongly to Murakami's later works, is still on all counts an excellent novel. It foreshadows the art that he would later hone in more incredible works but is not overwhelmed by its place as Prototype and stands stubbornly under its own worthy powers. The book is emotionally satisfying, wryly humourous, and carries enough of the psychological burden of true romance that I couldn't help but enjoy the journey.

As far as the story is concerned, Murakami pits a young, collegiate protagonist (Toru Watanabe) against a world made crazy by ill-founded idealism and the fascism that idealism nurtures. The world around him feeds on dreams and the need for rebellion—not worthy rebellion but only that typical rebellion that the young feel is necessary to young lives. Even in the midst of his cynicism toward the mindless abandon of his classmates, Watanabe finds himself abandoned to his desperate love for Naoko, the psychologically wounded girlfriend of his now-deceased best friend from high school. Even as he labours to support Naoko through her lengthy convalescence, writing her letters and occasionally visiting her remote community, Watanabe takes the edge off his pining by participating in two oddly similar friendships, both with fellow students of his particular university. These work to show him both who he wants to be and who he does not want to be.

I'm not certain if Norwegian Wood should be classified as romantic fiction, bildungsroman, or as something else. Certainly their are elements of the two well-mined genres, but I can't help feeling that the novel is perhaps something more worthwhile than either of the two classifications. In any case, I liked it well enough and it's normal enough to appeal to even those who aren't ready for Murakami's more curious work.

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Jan 11, 2011 Bel rated it 1 of 5 stars · review of another edition

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. Before I begin may it be known that this was not my first Murakami. I read Kafka on the Shore and loved it. I read Wind-up Bird Chronicle and loved that too. So I got to thinking that maybe I should read the book that made him famous, the book that everyone in Japan is said to have read, that compelled Murakami to flee the country to escape the media attention. How disappointed I was when I finished. Also, I wrote this on iPad so the punctuation and capitalisation is off. I tried to fix all the...more Before I begin may it be known that this was not my first Murakami. I read Kafka on the Shore and loved it. I read Wind-up Bird Chronicle and loved that too. So I got to thinking that maybe I should read the book that made him famous, the book that everyone in Japan is said to have read, that compelled Murakami to flee the country to escape the media attention. How disappointed I was when I finished. Also, I wrote this on iPad so the punctuation and capitalisation is off. I tried to fix all the auto correct but I may have missed a few.

The characters in this book are all loathsome. Toru Watanabe, the main character, is a self-pitying man looking back on his days at university in Tokyo during the student riots in 1969-1970 when he supposedly "fell in love". He attempts to paint himself as a "nice guy", deluded into believing himself to be honest and who has "never lied in his life" (an idea which is refuted several times in the novel. E.g. When midori asks him whether he slept with Naoko since and he replies "we didn't do anything" - yeah, 'cause people generally rub up naked against each other and give blow jobs to anyone and everyone. You know, that's nothing. Also, bottom of page 350. Yeah) which often came off as whiny whenever he "felt bad" over the fact that he was not self-entitled to screwing people over and actually felt guilt (although this guilt only tended to manifest itself awhile later when he actually got around to thinking about people other than himself). One of many puzzling traits was his insistence at naming every single book and song that he was reading/listening to despite most of them being easily interchangeable, replaceable and irrelevant seeing as they had no correlation whatsoever to the plot or character development (a few exceptions being the song 'Norwegian Wood' [obviously], Das Kapital in relation with the setting of the student riots and the time, and there was a part where Toru was comparing himself to "Jay Gatsby watch(ing) that tiny light on the opposite shore night after night" [although I cringed at the feeble struggle to relate this tacky soap-operatic tale of Toru's wuv for Naoko's body to a symbol signifying Gatsby's obsession to repossess and re-enact what has evolved into a doomed and glittering illusion and the idea that the dream has surpassed the real and is better experienced from a distance]). Seriously, the number of smug name dropping probably extended the book a few dozen pages and you would think that someone who read so much would have at least developed even the smallest amount of empathy but, for all I know, Toru Watanabe spent all his time reading with his eyes glazed over thinking and feeling sorry for himself that he has to feel guilt over using girls as rebound.

What was even more depressing about this book was that every single female character was weak and dependent. From I'm-pretending-to-do-the-tough-girl-act-but-in-a-cute-subservient-way Midori who is needy and whiny (she has reasons for being moody and throwing tantrums but there are absolutely no excuses for being cruel and manipulative which is what she does to win Toru's heart) to I-don't-love-you-but-you-want-sex-and-blowjobs-and-I-can't-say-no-to-men Naoko to I'm-so-independent-and-empowering-and-independent-but-I-have-a-"small stomach"-and-can't-eat-much-*coughi'minsecureaboutmyselfcough* Reiko. Midori, however, is the character who ticks the generic box of 'being different', a thin veil attempting to hide the fact that she is actually the fantasy girlfriend of lot of insecure men. She is cute, she is kinky, desperate to sexually please men, is interested in "fuck(ing) like crazy", she is friendly and social with a lot of people, she cooks good food, cleans and is a hard worker and shows that she can slavishly take care of men ie domestic goddess. "I'm looking for selfishness. Perfect selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortbread. And you stop everything you're doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortbread out to me. And I say I don't want it any more and throw it out the window. That's what I'm looking for." Are we supposed to find this endearing? Are we supposed to read this in wonder and awe and repeat to ourselves what Toru says afterward: "I've never met a girl like you"?

The thing is, it is in Murakami's style to present a lot of truisms and while in his other works, they are intertwined with the surreal in such a way that it doesn't matter whether they are huge generalisations or just really cheesy because they come from dreamlike layers echoing the absurd and the interior monologue of the character and so it isn't preachy, just something to think about. In Norwegian Wood, they are brash and blunt. The characters make sweeping and often blindly hypocritical and prejudiced assumptions disguised in the appearance of truth mostly about how they are so 'different' and everyone else are such boring sheep (in predictable hipster style: "liek omigod, i'm, liek, sooo unique and different?!?! Liek omigod, my tiny brain never thought of that!!!!") such as "never again would she have that self-centred beauty that seems to take its own independent course in adolescent girls and no one else". So ALL adolescent girls are all self-centred (sorry, self-centred beauty - like totally a compliment!!! *eyeroll*), huh, and Toru here wants US to think that HE is so exceptional when he manages to group half the population into (at one point) possessing a particular trait? There are a lot of "I don't know, I'm just a girl" moments but I reaaaaally don't want to have to open the book again and go look for them.

I could go on and on about how odious Naoko and Reiko were but this review is getting really long and all I've been talking about are the characters.

The plot, in all its boring and barely existing glory:
Toru Watanabe runs into Naoko, the girlfriend of Kizuki, his high school best friend (who had suicided a couple of years previous), and realises she has a hawt body. On her birthday he rapes (sorry, "makes love" to) her while she's distraught over Kizuki and she runs away to a mental asylum to get better. Toru whinges about loneliness. He meets Midori. Everything gets dragged out about how they are both sad and lonely. Toru visits Naoko at the asylum and meets her roommate, Reiko. Toru chooses Midori over naoko because she is a "real, live girl". Naoko commits suicide. Toru and Reiko fuck in her memory.

Half the book is whinge and whine, the other half objectifies women.

Positives:

1. Murakami writes beautifully. It's as simple as that. Norwegian Wood is what you would get if you stamped a picture of the ceiling of the Sistine chapel onto a pair of crocs.

2. My mum likes the Beatles song and I've also had the song stuck in my head since reading this book.

3. It's over. (less)

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Apr 16, 2011 Marco Tamborrino rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Da sempre mi sono chiesto come vivessero i giapponesi. Ora lo so. I giapponesi bevono, fanno sesso (tanto sesso) e nel tempo libero, quando proprio non hanno un cazzo da fare, si suicidano. Ecco, di questo parla Norwegian Wood. Potremmo chiudere qui l'abuso di una delle più belle canzoni dei Beatles per scopi illeciti. Ma visto che sono una persona giudiziosa e ho voglia di divertirmi, continuerò a sparare sulla croce rossa. Da notare il fatto che ho dato due stelline e non una. Del resto, anche...more Da sempre mi sono chiesto come vivessero i giapponesi. Ora lo so. I giapponesi bevono, fanno sesso (tanto sesso) e nel tempo libero, quando proprio non hanno un cazzo da fare, si suicidano. Ecco, di questo parla Norwegian Wood. Potremmo chiudere qui l'abuso di una delle più belle canzoni dei Beatles per scopi illeciti. Ma visto che sono una persona giudiziosa e ho voglia di divertirmi, continuerò a sparare sulla croce rossa. Da notare il fatto che ho dato due stelline e non una. Del resto, anche 'bianca come il latte, rossa come il sangue' si era beccato due stelline dal sottoscritto; e, dato che già quello era l'abisso, darne una a Murakami mi sembrava da persona troppo cattiva. Mmm, allora, cominciamo da zero. Di cosa parla Norwegian Wood? Il nulla assoluto. Non parla di niente, nossignori. Insomma, chiariamoci, ho letto di peggio. Okay, è successo poche volte, ma io sono una persona onesta, quindi parlerò 'francamente'. Appena finito il libro, a causa di un forte mal di pancia, sono corso al cesso e ho fatto parecchio cioccolato (ma Murakami questa volta non c'entra!). Nel frattempo pensavo: ma davvero la vita di questi tizi era così deprimente da fare il gioco dell'impiccato con una frequenza maggiore del farsi una doccia? Insomma, come in Danimarca, che nonostante sia il paese più ricco e (definito dall'UNESCO) felice del mondo, possiede un tasso di suicidi due volte quello dell'Italia. Come a dire: noi siamo italiani, lo pigliamo nel culo da trent'anni dai politici, però siamo felici così e viviamo bene, mentre noi siamo giapponesi, non viviamo così male, ma ci ritroviamo troppe volte con un cazzo da fare e quindi tagliamo la testa al toru. Pensiero contorto, eh? Però, stavo cagando, pardon. Dicevo, dov'ero rimasto? Ah sì, questo libro non ha senso. Volete sapere anche il motivo? Ma lo volete veramente sapere? Siete proprio sicuri? L'accendiamo. E la risposta esatta è: non ha senso. Okay Marco, abbiamo afferrato il concetto, ora arriva al succo. *mamma, un succo d'arancia!*. Tornando a Norwegian Wood: è un susseguirsi inutile di avvenimenti frivoli della vita di un adolescente che tenta (invano) di maturare. Signori, se avete intenzione di maturare masturbandovi e ubriacandovi, il Giappone è il paese che fa (faceva, al tempo) per voi. Io preferisco la Danimarca, per l'appunto. Or dunque, mi ha spesso infastidito il richiamo che a inizio libro faceva 'pincopallo' riguardo a David Copperfield. Sì, insomma, Murakami ha scopiazzato il personaggio di Nagasawa da James Steerforth, e ciò mi ha indisposto sin da subito. Però, ecco, questo libro non c'entra un emerito cazzo con David Copperfield. Ritrae semplicemente uno spaccato di vita di un poveretto che assiste inerme a suicidi di massa. Punto. E i dialoghi, ussignur, aiutami tu, non sono altro che digressioni sul sesso, sul kamasutra e sulle pippe; insomma, una pacchia. Norwegian Wood mi ha portato via un'intera settimana, durante la quale devo dire, non ho mai preso così in considerazione l'idea di scagliare un libro fuori dalla finestra. Ma davvero c'è gente che lo paragona a capolavoro? Mi dispiace per Luana, forse non ho colto il senso, la profondità e tutte le altre balle, ma questo libro è il NULLA. Gli argomenti da me sopra citati sono intervallati da descrizioni inutili di qualsiasi cosa esistente su questo pianeta. Inoltre Murakami non è profondo. Semplicemente accenna a dei sentimenti ma poi li lascia lì, così, senza motivo. Un po' come guardare una partita di calcio e fermarsi a metà dicendo "ora sono stufo, lascio che se la giochino i calciatori, tanto sono loro che devono vincerla". È la stessa cosa che dire ad un lettore "ecco, questi sono i temi portanti del mio libro, ora immaginateli da solo". Questo si chiama 'prendere per il culo'. Ho notato parecchi riferimenti musicali e letterari all'occidente, ma mi sono parsi solo metodi sciocchi per fare sfoggio di una cultura personale di alto (e dubbio) livello. Murakami, fai così, ammazzati pure tu di seghe, poi ne riparliamo. A parte questo, non ho mai letto di persone che si divertissero così tanto in periodo universitario. Insomma, a sentire le ragazze italiane l'uni è un calvario, non puoi fare niente se stai preparando un esame! Eppure questi giapponesi scopano come maiali e bevono come Socrate bevve la sua cicuta (ovvero non vedeva l'ora di ammazzarsi pure lui). Va bene, facciamo che ho finito. H.P. Lovecraft e un suo raccontino mi aspettano, poi nanna e domani Conan Doyle. Buonanotte.(less)

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Jan 02, 2010 Sandy Tjan rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: contemporary-fiction, 2009, swapable, nippon

“Letters are just pieces of paper,” I said. “Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.”

Norwegian Wood is supposed to be Murakami’s realistic novel; there are no mind-bending revelations, or even cats that talk, but a strong sense of ephemerality pervades the novel in a way that is at times surreal. There is nothing extraordinary about Toru Watanabe, the first-year student protagonist; he is studying drama, though he seems to have no real passion...more “Letters are just pieces of paper,” I said. “Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.”

Norwegian Wood is supposed to be Murakami’s realistic novel; there are no mind-bending revelations, or even cats that talk, but a strong sense of ephemerality pervades the novel in a way that is at times surreal. There is nothing extraordinary about Toru Watanabe, the first-year student protagonist; he is studying drama, though he seems to have no real passion for it, he is apolitical in the age of worldwide student revolts, a middle-class kid from Kobe and a mediocre student who works part-time in a record shop to make ends meet. He is also at that precious age on the cusp of adulthood when everything that happens takes a looming significance. The central drama of his adolescence revolves around Naoko, the pretty but fragile girlfriend of his best friend who committed suicide at the age of 17, and Midori, an outgoing fellow student who is a tenacious survivor of both her parents’ deaths from cancer. Torn between the two, Watanabe navigates through the haze of love and lust, life and death, only to find himself at “the dead center of this place that was no place”. Yet, for all the tragedies that it contains, the story ends on a note of battered hope, flitting though it is, just as ephemeral as a firefly’s fading light.

We also get a fascinating glimpse of Japan in the late 60’s/early 70’s, when the country was well on its way to become a mighty economic power --- a Japan with bullet trains and hostess bars, where the soundtrack was The Beatles and almost all the artistic references were Western. A Japan full of model students and overachievers, who most often than not ended up losing their souls. Hence the suicides are given a sort of poignant dignity; they just happen to see the pointlessness of it all and calmly, rationally, opt out. Here today, gone tomorrow, like petals that fall away with the rain and are swept away the next day, or perhaps, as in that old Beatles song, the “bird has flown”.
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Jul 26, 2011 Greg Zimmerman rated it 4 of 5 stars

A Japanese version of The Catcher in the Rye, only with more atmosphere and depth, and a lot more sex? Does that sound like something you might be interested in? Then, I'd humbly submit Haruki Murakami's slim, ethereal novel, Norwegian Wood.

Norwegian Wood is, of course, a Beatles song, the opening lyric of which is "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." The song itself, as well as the idea presented in its lyric of first love and the stinging memory thereof, are two of the major...more A Japanese version of The Catcher in the Rye, only with more atmosphere and depth, and a lot more sex? Does that sound like something you might be interested in? Then, I'd humbly submit Haruki Murakami's slim, ethereal novel, Norwegian Wood.

Norwegian Wood is, of course, a Beatles song, the opening lyric of which is "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." The song itself, as well as the idea presented in its lyric of first love and the stinging memory thereof, are two of the major themes of the novel. The novel asks us to try to understand the dangers of taking love for granted; of assuming that there will always be time to work out problems; of waiting on one love at the expense of the possibility of another.

Such are the issues our narrator Toru Watanabe, a 19-year-old Tokyo college student, deals with. The year is 1969, and one day on the train, Toru runs into Naoko — the ex-girlfriend of Toru's best friend in high school, who had mysteriously killed himself. Toru and Naoko begin seeing each other once a week, and soon, their feelings intensify. But are the feelings genuine, or is Naoko simply using Toru as a stand-in for her dead boyfriend?

Meanwhile, Toru meets the flighty, but fascinating Midori, and begins seeing her regularly, as well. Such is Toru's dilemma: Whom should he choose? Or, is the answer neither: Should he continue going out with his friend Nagasawa, getting drunk and sleeping with slutty girls? At one point, he wonders aloud, "What if there were a deux ex machina in real life?" In other words, why couldn't life be simple like a Greek drama in which the resolution to any problem is simply a god's intervention.

And as if to make all these questions even more complicated for himself, Toru begins questioning how much he should even trust his own vision of the world. Midori lies to him. A friend's life is ruined by a manipulative, lying 13-year-old girl. And his friend Nagasawa constantly lies to his own girlfriend to continue his carousing ways. Toru begins to distrust his ability to parse the truth. "If I told myself (the events of last night) were real, I believed they were real, and if I told myself they were a fantasy, they seemed like a fantasy." And so how to make decisions regarding matters of the heart on information that's not trustworthy?

This book is loaded with difficult questions. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. Indeed, Norwegian Wood is blurbed as "the most erotic of Murakami's novels." So, if you're not into all those coming-of-age, difficult life questions, there that to keep you interested, anyway.

But it is a quick, fluid read, and one I really enjoyed. This is the first time I've read Murakami, and while I understand that Norwegian Wood isn't the best representative of his oeuvre, it does seem a good introduction to both his style, which is as clear and sharp as any writer I've ever read, and also his acumen as a storyteller. This is the kind of novel you read in hundred-page chunks, and is over before you know it. How did it go that fast? What did that all mean? (less)

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Oct 21, 2012 Praveen rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

The memories would slam against me like the wave of an incoming tide, sweeping my body along to some strange new place – a place where I lived with the dead.

We never live on our present as it’s the reaction of our action which we have done in our past. We always live reference to our past, in one point of view it’s good but it’s not always good. Something went wrong; it doesn’t mean everything is going to be wrong. If something goes wrong in our life, in future whatever happens to us we will al...more

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Oct 06, 2012 Samadrita rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: semi-favorites, masterpieces, romance, slice-of-life, psychological, melancholia, asian-literature, magical-realism-surrealism, japan, awesomesauce, 1001-and-more

Sadness is indeed a very complicated emotion. It has the uncanny ability of dissolving the edges of reality surrounding you and immersing you completely in an alternate world, where only you and that feeling exist together in complete harmony. And nothing else matters. You luxuriate in the richness of its beauty and marvel at the tranquility it offers you.
Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood evokes exactly similar kind of emotions in the reader.

There are some books you read, which leave you with sto...more Sadness is indeed a very complicated emotion. It has the uncanny ability of dissolving the edges of reality surrounding you and immersing you completely in an alternate world, where only you and that feeling exist together in complete harmony. And nothing else matters. You luxuriate in the richness of its beauty and marvel at the tranquility it offers you.
Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood evokes exactly similar kind of emotions in the reader.

There are some books you read, which leave you with stories-bitter, exciting, adrenaline-driven, romantic, depressing or grisly. And then there are books which leave you with feelings. Norwegian Wood, most definitely, belongs to the second category.
And in my opinion, it is infinitely easier to deconstruct a story in a review rather than the feeling it leaves you with. But here's an attempt anyway.

Norwegian Wood is a beautifully sad yet incredibly sensual tale of unfulfilled love where the central characters are, in all essence, broken individuals.
In a most indolent manner, the book begins with our narrator Toru Watanabe, catching the strains of an orchestral version of The Beatles' 'Norwegian wood' on a flight to Hamburg and beginning to reminisce about a certain girl named Naoko, from the days of his youth in Tokyo. From hereon, the story is told as a flashback, as a sliver of memory that the 37-year old Toru has carefully preserved or perhaps is struggling not to forget.
Majorly the story revolves around the trials and tribulations of the 3 key characters - Toru, Naoko and Midori.

Toru, a reserved young college student, is shown to be somewhat anti-social, not quite opening up to others as easily as others open up to him. There is a sense of profound sadness about him hidden skilfully under a veneer of indifference, probably arising out of the loss of his childhood friend Kizuki, who committed suicide at 17. While Naoko, Kizuki's first and only girlfriend, is a beautiful and emotionally fragile being who has been unable to grapple with the tragedy of Kizuki's untimely death. Still in mourning, bound by a mutual feeling of isolation, Toru and Naoko, forge an unnatural connection of sorts, when they cross each other's paths years later in Tokyo. Toru falls in love right away and even she feels something love-like for him, but sadly enough it is not enough to heal them both. Soon the emotionally unstable Naoko recedes to a sanatorium in mountainous Kyoto while Toru tries to continue with his life as an unremarkable university student, seeking comfort in sleeping with random women. In Naoko's continued absence from his life, he makes friends with the bright, sassy, sexually liberated Midori Kobayashi, who has had her fair share of tragedies too but still manages to be optimistic. An unlikely friendship with Midori, helps dissipate some of the darkness in Toru's life but he is still unable to get Naoko off his mind and keeps writing her letters irrespective of whether she sends a reply or not. The rest of the book details Toru's dilemma as he is torn between these two women, never too sure of whether to shun his troubled past and embrace reality as it comes or keep waiting for Naoko to fully recover from her festering psychological wounds.

Written in a lucid language, the book is full of metaphors usually represented by the description of natural scenery. Murakami's obsession with western classics and music is reflected in the countless references to Beatles numbers like "Yesterday", "Michelle", "Something", Bach, Mozart, Scarlatti and literary works of Joseph Conrad, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Thomas Mann, Karl Marx and so on.

The brief overview of the plot does not, in any way, do justice to the story. For a book like Norwegian Wood cannot be summarized.
It is about human relationships which cannot be given a name or a clear definition. It is about the ghastly spectre of death and the way the people who are no longer with us, sometimes leave us in a permanent state of damage. It is about friendship and love and sexuality. And most important of all, it is about sadness. In its cruelest yet most beautiful form. The inherent dreariness of the book gets to you at some point or the other, but Murakami's compelling story-telling ways, make sure you keep reading till the very end.
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May 21, 2012 Alberto José Echeverri Ortiz rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Me debatía un poco sobre el valor de Norwegian Wood y he decidido que, a pesar de ser una obra sencilla y completamente evocativa (al punto de parecer autobiográfica), esta novela atrapa y parece ser universal al recordar el dolor de los primeros amores adolescentes.

La construcción de los personajes es muy simple, sufriendo las peores consecuencias los espíritus más débiles y dejando por fuera de la trama carácteres más complejos y que, sin ser necesaria su continuación, superan las pruebas y do...more

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Sep 02, 2012 Hannah rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: favorites

I realized that my former review didn't do any justice to how much I loved this book.

Norwegian was the first Murakami I read. I've heard about him before but not intrigued enough to actually buy a book. Until one day a friend recommended this to me and when she says a book is good, I know it is good.

There is no UFO, astral projection, etc., a.k.a. things Murakami is known for. It is a straight storytelling of an unrequited love and ultimately, finding a new one (or so I hope, the ending was quit...more

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Feb 17, 2012 Inês rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Lembram-se daquela célebre frase "Life is like a box of chocolates"? Sempre pensei que só o argumentista do Forrest Gump se lembraria dela. Mas não. Antes de 1994, precisamente em 1987, já o Murakami a tinha escrito. Hands down to him.

Dos cinco que li, este é o livro menos ficcional de Murakami. É também o mais ocidentalizado. Ou seja, se por um lado perde aquilo que me levava a não ser grande fã (universos paralelos, mortos que falam, cavalas que caem do céu), o que é uma coisa boa, por outro...more

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Movie vs. Book?	2	4	2 hours, 11 min ago
I didn't understand the ending of this book, what happened exactly?	33	1401	May 21, 2013 09:24am
Murakami fans : Question about Norwegian Wood	13	113	May 12, 2013 09:36am
Knjigom u glavu: Knjiga mjeseca- Norveška šuma	31	56	May 11, 2013 07:12am
Goodreads Italia: Midori o Naoko?	8	125	May 09, 2013 07:55am

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