An excellent display of all of Murakami’s talents, bundled nicely into a much shorter package than that of his hit novel Norwegian Wood.
South of the Border, West of the Sun follows Hajime, a flawed but very honest portrayal of a man who has had plenty of luck and success across his life, yet is unable to escape his childhood and the mistakes he made during it. It is an accurate depiction of being unable to live with your choices, and despite being relatively unscathed in a societal sense, remaining very scarred on a personal level that no one else seems to grasp.
Of all the instances from his past, Hajime cannot move beyond his obsession with two girls from his school years. Shimamoto, a reclusive girl who suffered from Polio who he met in junior high, as well as Izumi, his high school girlfriend who he had used to help himself move on from Shimamoto and ultimately broke the heart of.
Hajime is very relatable in many ways, yet you almost don’t want to relate to any aspect of him. Almost all of us look back on our childhood and miss someone, or at least wish that we had handled our time and relationship with them differently – that, perhaps, some minor alteration to the past could result in that person still being in your life during adulthood. In this sense, Hajime is equally plain but also a very interesting character to observe, especially with Murakami’s ability to paint such a bleak and perverse image of the male psyche.
The character’s logic always seems sound, he is not delusional, yet he disregards any sense of what is morally right or wrong to achieve what he wants. A sort of depressive, volatile narrator.
The story, at least what takes place in the present of 1990s Japan, hinges on Shimamoto turning up at one of the jazz bars that Hajime owns and manages, quickly followed by him putting his entire life (including his marriage and children) at stake to reconnect with his woman who he has not seen for twenty-five years, but has never stopped longing for.
Overall, South of the Border, West of the Sun is a much more condensed and digestible story when it comes to Murakami’s publications. The tone of it is grey and depressing, and there is seldom any sense of completion or happiness in all the events, making it feel very personal and honest. Through Hajime’s life, readers also get an insight into how the world around him changes, and how each person he connected with – especially Shimamoto, Izumi, and his wife, Yukiko – have altered and influenced him in tiny ways. Despite that, it is clear he never truly matured.
It is an important tale in learning to stomach our life choices, as well as understanding that we cannot throw aside all that is important to us now simply to get a taste of the past. People must move on, ourselves included.
A very enjoyable read, and had me eager to finish it by the third chapter or so. If you aren’t familiar with the author, then I strongly recommend you use this as an introduction to Murakami’s library of fictional works.
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