Blog Post #2

 I just finished Norwegian Wood, which is definitely my favorite thing we have read so far in this class. I’m still processing the end section of the book, but have a handful of half-baked ideas about it. The thing that stood out to me most in the last section we read was the idea of detachment. In class, we’ve talked about how Watanabe is less detached than Murakami’s other narrators, and I agreed with that. In the dinner scene with Nagasawa and Hatsumi, however, Nagasawa says that he and Watanabe are the same, and that they are both unable “to feel any interest in anything other than what [they themselves] think or feel or do” (208). To me, this makes Watanabe sound very detached from the world around him, at least in Nagasawa’s view.

As I continued reading, I found myself viewing Watanabe as detached more and more. It feels like a different kind of detached than with Boku in A Wild Sheep Chase—with Watanabe, the readers have a better feel of his thoughts and feelings, so he is less detached to the reader. Within the world of the story, however, he is very distant. One of the ways this feeling of detachment is made is by the communication methods used—letters and phone calls. In both cases, attempted communication is often met with a lack of response, be it letters which never receive a reply or the other person not answering the phone. In these periods where he is waiting for a reply, Watanabe is very isolated, seemingly only going through the motions. Even when characters are together in person there is a disconnect at times, like when Midori and Watanabe are together but Watanabe only finds out her true feelings through the letter she gives him before she leaves. This feels like a surface level exploration of the idea of detachment in the book, and the end of the novel is another clear example—Watanabe is on the phone with Midori, but he is entirely unaware of the world around him, and while he calls out for Midori, trying to use her as a line back to reality, he never gets a reply.

- Laura Hurley

Blog Post 2 - Max Dahlstrom

 

Norwegian Wood left me feeling very emotional because of how immersive the sense of loneliness and, at times, hopelessness felt throughout the novel. Watanabe starts off with a tragic backstory and appears alienated from society as a result of the trauma inflicted upon him by Kizuki’s suicide. Much of the book follows him coping with that trauma or trying to move past it, but his relationship with Naoko keeps him tethered to the past. For most of the novel, he is waiting for Naoko to get better with no end to her battle with mental illness in sight. He appears to be getting better at times throughout the novel on his own, but his commitment to Naoko, which really seems to stem from his inability to get over Kizuki’s death, prevents him from being able to throw himself into the world and experience all it has to offer. This is marked by the vast differences in settings between Tokyo and the sanatorium, and their different love interests, Midori and Naoko respectively. Tokyo is rife with different opportunities and the uncertainty that comes with them, including the prospect of a relationship with Midori, as Reiko explicitly mentions. The sanatorium, on the other hand, clearly provides an escape from this world. It is for damaged people like Naoko who cannot go on living in society because of the trauma or mental illness that they’re suffering from, yet it also brings a sense of security by denying the world and all its uncertainty. Watanabe is constantly torn between these two worlds and the prevalence of suicide in the novel emphasizes his agency regarding the choice of which one to belong to.

The end of the novel is interesting, because it is not exactly clear which world he has chosen, or whether or not he even has a choice by the end. On the phone with Midori, he loses his sense of space and the coherence of the world around him completely breaks down. Is he having some sort of a panic attack and suffering from trauma in the same way that Naoko did? Or is it indicative of him embracing the overwhelming uncertainty of the world he has finally become able to enter? It's very unclear, and I find it difficult to tie it to the beginning of the novel when he's in Hamburg airport. Nevertheless, I think the ambiguous ending suits the story well and reiterates the embrace of uncertainty that Watanabe struggles with throughout the novel.

- Max Dahlstrom

Blog Post 2 - Spaghetti as Loneliness

When Watanabe writes to Midori about how lonely April and May were without her and ends his letter telling her that he wants to make spaghetti for her (page 259), I was immediately reminded of “The Year of Spaghetti.” I was curious which was written first, and as best I could find “The Year of Spaghetti” predates Norwegian Wood by seven years, first published in 1981 and 1987 respectively. For the Boku of “The Year of Spaghetti,” cooking spaghetti is like “an act of revenge” by a “jilted girl” throwing out love letters. This is pretty close to the cause of Watanabe’s loneliness with Midori spitefully ignoring him. For all he knows, she’s destroying his letters too. Having read “The Year of Spaghetti” first gives an added intensity, a special connotation to Watabane’s suggestion, and I wonder if this was an intentional self-reference to his earlier short story. But what might this repeated use of spaghetti as a food of loneliness indicate? It’s peculiar enough to have spaghetti representing this as is, but seeing it appear in two stories, I began to wonder if Murakami himself has a strong association of loneliness with spaghetti or perhaps had a bad experience with it.

-Kate

Blog Post #2

       This was actually my second read through of Norwegian Wood and once again I was impressed. I first read the book probably 2 years ago in the beginning of quarantine and I'm assuming, like most people, they felt an overarching feeling of loneliness and emptiness. I found then as I find now that this book very well encapsulates this feeling.

    When I describe Norwegian Wood to others, I say it is the feeling of fall going into winter. A feeling that is empty, no matter what you do you cannot change seasons and weather, you have no power in this relationship, you just have to accept and trudge through. You know it will be hard, and you will feel down and lonely (or at least us with seasonal depression), but seasons must change so you are forced to accept. Norwegian Wood presents this empty feeling beautifully. I feel for these characters, you can see their pain and longing for something better. But overall the book is lonely. 

    This was the connection in Wild Sheep Chase that I was looking for but never really found. You see the characters in Norwegian Wood for who they are, or at least who they believe they are. Reading through I do find this story as more of a realistic work, yeah there is always Murakami's magical touch, but I like to read this without trying to analyze every line for hidden details. I felt no reason to dig, I found everything I needed to on the surface. Overall I really enjoy this book, and am excited to see how the movie compares.

- Emmett Glazer

Blog Post 2 - Kara Beigh

It was surprising to me how noticeably Murakami’s writing improved since A Wild Sheep Chase. The main issue I had with A Wild Sheep Chase was how detached it was. I didn’t feel drawn into the story and I didn’t gain an affinity for any of the characters. With Norwegian Wood, I felt like I had a better understanding of the characters and was able to get drawn into the story. It seemed like the characters actually had personalities, especially Midori, who probably had the most personality. I will say that despite liking Norwegian Wood, there are still some aspects of Murakami’s writing that I dislike. It seems like it's impossible for Murakmai to write a completely “normal” story. There always has to be at least one thing that’s weird or comes completely out of the blue. For example, the whole thing with the 13 year old. Like… why?? What was the point of including that? I think my main issue with Murakami’s writing is not his style, but the content of his stories. 

As a complete side note, I’m curious what relationships are like in Japan, at least in the time period the book takes place in. In Norwegian Wood, cheating seems normal. Hatsumi and Nagasawa’s relationship isn’t portrayed as being that unusual, and she doesn’t seem that upset with his infidelity.

Blog Post #2 - Cassandra

I really enjoyed the recent short stories that we have read in the past classes, but “Drive My Car" was my favorite out of them. 

I thought “Drive My Car” by Murakami was a very poignant exploration of grief and its impact on a person. In Kafuku’s interaction with Misaki, it is easy to see how grief persists over time and prevents a person from moving on. In their conversations, there are times where the dialogue indicates that Kafuku is not truly open with what he is experiencing. While Kafuku and Misaki find some sort of solace in each other's company, grief reinforces how truly isolating losing someone to death can be. I really liked that Murakami included memories as a way to process grief. In the context of this story, Kafuka’s memories with his late wife is how he reflects on his past actions as well as regrets. There is an air of alienation and loneliness in this story, especially with how Kafuku feels as if there is no one in the world that understands what it feels like to lose someone so close. This is especially clear in his interactions with Takatsuki. Even though it is a bit unusual to drink with the guy that had an affair with your spouse, it is very much in line with the extent that grief dedicates one’s actions over all else. 

- Cassandra Berrette

Insect Exoskeletons in Norwegian Wood- Krisha

There are two very similar insect similes that have popped up so far in Norwegian Wood that I wanted to talk about. On page 45, there is the forgotten white undershirt "waving in the evening breeze like the discarded shell of some huge insect" which is rather similar to the description of Naoko undressing, throwing her gown off "like an insect shedding its skin" on page 131. This imagery of clothes as cast aside insect bodies is unlike anything I have ever read before, and it doesn't really invoke growth imagery the way caterpillar metamorphosis does. It feels more like a nature documentary where the narrator talks about a scorpion pushing through its old hard body, exposing its vulnerable new self to the elements as it grows and hardens. I wonder if that is the intent for the Naoko scene. Maybe it is a different type of growth and development imagery that's less subtle than a butterfly transformation. It follows then to ask if the first cast aside insect shell on page 45 has anything more to it. It is in a section where Watanabe allows a firefly to fly away. There could be something going on with growth and departure.

There are also descriptions of dead cicada bodies in first chapter, and I know wonder if they were just for imagery or if the use of cicada bodies is related to the other insect similes listed above. Cast aside insect bodies seem to be a neat visual Murakami is using.