Taking its title from the Beatles’ song of the same name, Norwegian Wood is an apathetic and cynical story about late-1960s Japan and accepting manhood.
Following Watanabe as he reflects on his teenage years and the beginning of his twenties, Murakami discusses much about society, life’s worth, suicide, and the ever pressing matter of sex and relationships.
The novel is rife with an overwhelming sense of misery. Murakami distils vivid amounts of detail into each scene, lavishing them with a thick atmosphere and uneasy sense of isolation. The nature of such a bland, passing world helps cynical narrators like Watanabe flourish.
The character in question bears just enough personality to make him unique, whilst he is still plain enough to project onto. Watanabe’s depression and emotions aren’t always clear, often buried under a blunt persona and an indifference to much of the world. Despite that, as the story goes on and his misfortune continues, there are genuine changes to his character. I would say that Murakami wrote an excellent portrayal of a moody, hormonal young man.
Where Murakami’s excellent writing falters is with his female characters in this novel. Whilst it’s not always at its worst, there are many instances where females within this story are repetitive, shallow, stereotypical, or portrayed as lesser in undefined ways. I suppose it works, as we are observing through the not-so-savvy Watanabe, but I still feel it disrupts the quality of the writing at times.
With ignorance to that one negative view of mine, Norwegian Wood is a great and rewarding read. It is one of the most depressing and subtle pieces of fiction I’ve read thus far, and I would encourage anyone to check it out if a melodramatic and moody story is their sort of thing.
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