Norwegian Wood Novel vs. Film

The first difference that stood out to me between the book and film adaptation of Norwegian Wood was the portrayal of the characters, both in their appearances and their behaviors. 

Visually Naoko’s character appeared very much how I imagined her, but Reiko and Midori were a bit different than I imagined them. Both of these characters’ hairstyles in particular were described as much shorter in the novel, which may not seem like a significant difference, but I felt it was an important detail that contributed to both characters’ personalities. I remember in the novel there being vivid descriptions of Midori’s skirts being really short, like inappropriately short, and in the film they looked normal. I think these small changes were significant because it changes the way the viewer perceives these characters, especially Midori. I think that the minimization of Midori’s indelicate dress and mannerisms really takes away from her character in the film, and makes scenes like the one where she asks Watanabe to take her to a porno seem out of place. Last note on appearances, I remember Watanabe being described as not the most handsome man ever but he was definitely very attractive in the film, although I do not think this difference had as significant an impact on the perception of his character as the other characters mentioned.

I also thought many of the characters’ delivery of speech was much different than I pictured. In terms of Naoko, I imagined her speech as much more reserved and somber, everything she says infused with the deep and profound sadness she carries with her. Contrastingly, in the beginning of the film she is shown smiling and seemed more cheerful in her early scenes conversing with Watanabe. Also, in the novel there were plentiful descriptions of Naoko uncontrollably sobbing, and these scenes felt very subdued in the film. I do not think the film did the best job portraying these overpowering feelings of grief and sadness, that ultimately led to Naoko’s suicide. Additionally I pictured Midori and Reiko’s tones both as much more blunt and feisty, whereas in the movie they felt much more reserved. Much of Midori’s dialogue was the same in the film as in the novel, but they felt a little out of place with this toned down version of her character. Reiko’s portrayal in the film made her appear as almost a normal person, whereas in the novel I pictured her as much more eccentric, especially with her flirtatious comments towards Watanabe. 

The next difference that really stood out to me was the scene where Midori and Watanabe share their first kiss while watching buildings burn from Midori’s balcony. In this scene in the film, fire is changed to rain, which really stood out to me. While I think rain contributes to the overall somber mood of the story, I think that the fires from that scene were very representative of Midori’s character, and help the reader interpret Midori’s role in the story. I think the fire in that scene is significant in developing both Midori’s individual character as well was contrasting her, and her relationship with Watanabe, to Naoko. 

Another difference I noted about the film was the omission and shortening of many scenes, significantly the exclusion of Reiko’s backstory. I think Reiko’s backstory was very important to understanding her character and her relationship with both Naoko and Watanabe. I also feel that the movie downplayed Reiko’s role significantly. In the book I saw Reiko as a very important character, as she often acted as in intermediary between Naoko and Watanabe, and I think her role in the film was severely diminished. I felt like the film offered an abridged version of the story. It was still able to present most of the key scenes, but they felt a bit rushed, and missed a lot of the subtle details of conversations that were what made the novel so captivating. Overall I feel that the movie did shorten and remove many scenes that were important to the novel, but I still think they adapted the novel in the best way possible, and were still able to present an authentic telling of the story without changing major details. While watching the film it reminded me of the film adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. In that adaptation I felt that the film significantly changed many details of the novel, and replaced many conversations between the characters, which similarly to Norwegian Wood drive the story, with more plot relevant scenes. Overall I think the film did a good job of preserving the essence of the story and it’s portrayals of interpersonal communication and created a successful adaptation of the novel. 

Ken

Post-modern novel: Norwegian Wood

 After doing the two presentations (The Great Gatsby and David Copperfield) this week, I really vividly felt how cleverly Murakami had incorporated all these elements from the things he read, heard, or watched. Although all along we have been looking at his sources, I felt the character of Steerforth compared to Nagasawa really made an impact on me. It was eerie how similar they were as characters, yet it took Murakami way fewer words and descriptions to convey the same aura and atmosphere of Steerforth in Nagasawa. Furthermore, he had achieved this with the character in a completely different language and the novel set in a completely different country. The transfer of Steerforth into a Japanese setting was also very convincingly done as if I did not have the context of David Copperfield I would not have realized he was based on an English character. This can also be applied to his detective fiction inspirations, the foreign musical elements, and everything else. 

It really is the same for all the resources and ideas that Murakami pays homage to, borrows from, and is inspired by. It is truly amazing the way he can incorporate so many different elements into the Japanese setting and make it all flow smoothly and naturally. Through writing, he transcended literature the past stiff boundaries of culture, nationality, and ethnicity. I think that this is what makes his novels truly post-modern. This also particularly stood out to me as I think that this post-modern style was still a little unsteady in A Wild Sheep Chase, at the point of Norwegian Wood 5 years later, it feels like he has perfected this craft and I really enjoyed this book a lot more as it seemed a bit more polished in terms of style. 

Celine Yuan

Darkness in Norwegian Wood

 While Jade and I were watching the movie this past weekend we were constantly commenting on how dark the movie was, it seemed like the characters in the movie never turned the lights in their houses on. While this was just a lighthearted comment we kept making while watching, I think it was actually a very good decision in terms of establishing the mood and tone of the movie. I think that the lack of light and the sort of blue tones that come with it created a real sense of foreboding in the movie--the viewer can sense that there is some sort of tragedy ahead. Additionally, I think the darkness of especially the indoor spaces adds to the common theme in Murakami's works of the doom and gloom of modern life. Watanabe's dorm was often lightless, as were Naoko and Midori's apartments. This created a sense of lifelessness to their urban lives.

The prevalence of darkness made moments of light stand out even more in the movie. Two instances I can think of are when Watanabe is visiting Naoko at the sanatorium and when they are celebrating Naoko's birthday. In this two scenes, however, the light seems to create very different moods. 

When Watanabe gives Naoko her birthday cake it is lit up with candles, which illuminates her face in the otherwise dark apartment. The candles give off a warm, yellowy glow that just illuminates the two character's faces. Thus, there is a sense of intimacy and closeness that the light creates. For a brief moment the audience sees an incredibly tender connection between two people. This is later broken: the candles are blown out and Naoko and Watanabe have sex that then leads to catastrophe. 

The other instance of light in contrast to the typical darkness is when Watanabe visits Naoko at the sanatorium during the winter. The two of them walk around in the snow and because of the remote location, the snow is a pristine, glaring white. It has none of the warmth and intimacy that the birthday candles had but instead comes off as cold and clinical. I think this shows the distance that has grown between Naoko and Watanabe. Try as they might, they deal with Kizuki's death in very different ways, and in the end Naoko cannot come to terms with his death. 

Maggie

Norwegian Wood Movie Review: Translating Observation

I personally felt the movie only works in companionship with the novel. I cannot imagine having viewed that film without having read the novel beforehand. Someone in class mentioned that the movie's narrative does not stand on its own well and needs the guiding hand of the novel. I wholeheartedly agree. Murakami's novel is steeped in internal reflection and observation. Toru does not necessarily narrate to himself but there is an expansive internal world to his narration. The novel is also dominated by observation. Taking in every detail of an environment and utilizing metaphor to truly capture physical moments. This can be incredibly hard to translate to film. 

Toru is not a captivating protagonist. The book saves him by giving the reader a glimpse into his mind but the movie is unable to do that. I found myself consistently wondering why any of the film's characters found Toru interesting at all. I imagine if you haven't read the novel that wonder would turn towards harsh criticism. The movie does not showcase the beautiful way Toru navigates the physical world and what he notices in people the way the book does. He's not the kind of protagonist a filmmaker could mold into something eccentric or captivating. It would be a disservice to the source material to make Toru into anything but the quasi-Holden Caufield he is. 

I start to wonder if the book is really built for film adaptation or if what you gain from the novel can only be achieved through the written word. You're limited by both time and scope with a film and while a good critique I cannot imagine a version of the screenplay that does not omit the very beginning in Germany or much of the expanded stories of the side characters. I'm excited to read what people would have changed and done differently. 

Jade Rona

Norwegian Wood: Allusions to Reiko's Superpower

I personally think that the movie did not do justice to some central scenes in the novel. It was regrettable that none of the scenes with Midori’s father were shown in the movie. I particularly really liked the passage of Toru going on a full blown tangent about Euripides and the concept of deus ex machina. He explains to the father that deus ex machina is a device where an unsolvable problem gets resolved by some kind of godly power. In respect to many Murakami’s novels, including the Wild Sheep Chase, the presence of some mystical super power is a common theme. Therefore, the passage made me wonder what exactly is the “godly” power in the Norwegian Wood? This is where I thought of Reiko. There is a certain extent to which her “powers” are not as outwardly displayed in either the book or the movie. However, the book is still able to reveal more about her character having an oddly youthful charm, focusing a lot on how pretty her wrinkles are. To my surprise, the movie interpreted this characteristic very literally, yet her youthfulness described in the novel was as having youthful energy and not actually appearing young. Another thing we see in the novel that we do not see in the movie is that she liked to dwell on her past memories of youth yet not paying nearly enough attention to her present. This made me think about her character as someone who wants to go back in time and who wants to regain her “youth” back through using Naoko. For example, all the attempts to regain her youth are demonstrated through how she wore Naoko’s old clothes and how she felt young in terms of how her intercourse with Toru went. My view on Reiko being the super power in this story was confirmed even more after I realized that what Midori’s dad tells Toru about the “ticket”, “Ueno” and “Midori”, perfectly foresees what Reiko does at the end of the story. Reiko refuses to get a plane ticket even though it is much easier to travel in comparison to a train. She departs from Toru at the Ueno station to head to the next location. Toru reaches out to Midori, dumbfounded by where he is. By omitting the following details the film fails to capture Murakami’s splashes of surrealism and eeriness, making the film one old boring love story -- definitely not something that Norwegian Wood novel is. 

Angelina Not (Lina)

"Norwegian Wood" and Naoko's Life After Death

As was mentioned in class, the film adaptation of Norwegian Wood does not set the story in the past as the novel does. I feel that situating this film in the present does a disservice to the base text, as it lessens the impact of music which is stressed in the novel. 

Watanabe's reason for recalling the events of his youth in the book is because he hears the song "Norwegian Wood" while on a flight. This singular stimulus which causes him to fully relive his college years in painful detail; I think that Murakami wrote it in this way in order to make a statement about music's immense power. As it was Naoko's favorite song, it became inextricably linked to her identity. Though she was long dead by the time Watanabe was in the plane, the song was able to resurrect her in a sense. Watanabe remembered her from every sensory level (sight, sound, touch, etc.) in vivid detail. Since we can only acknowledge others through our senses, she becomes as alive to him in memory as she ever was. In this way, music links itself to one's identity and keeps a person alive after death.

With this aspect nowhere to be found in the film adaptation, it greatly reduces the impact of the song. Of course, the song does still foreshadow Naoko's death, yet this factor is especially negligible in light of the other songs in the movie's soundtrack. I could be wrong, but I don't believe they ever mention that "Norwegian Wood" is Naoko's favorite song in the film. I just remember Reiko playing it for her and Watanabe with minimal emphasis.

I think that this isn't a bad adaptation of the novel, but they left so much interesting content on the table. I feel like this story would work much better as a miniseries; each chapter or two would make a really great episode if they followed the book as a script. Overall I like the film but it just went by too fast, not taking the time to accurately portray parts of the book that made it great.

-Bruce

Who Failed Naoko?

 Naoko’s fate in Norwegian Wood is nothing short of a tragedy. Despite seeing some improvement and eventually moving to receive different treatment at a specialized facility, Naoko takes her own life. While an answer is given to the question of “why” from Naoko’s perspective, we do not hear much about “why” is in the sense of “why/how was this allowed to happen”. With all of the other ways the sanatorium represents the distorted Other World that Murakami is known for, it seems that everything there is not as it seems. For example, Reiko is not a doctor but just another patient. While touted as a positive point for the sanatorium, at least to Toru, this is a clear distortion of what a sanatorium should be. Further, the other patients in the sanatorium are barely alive. This is excused as it is a sanatorium after all where people are of course ill and there to get better, yet the lack of patients resembling anything close to the road to recovery is an unsettling coincidence at best and a bona fide representation of the sanatorium at work at worst. These all lead me to the conclusion that the sanatorium is not actually a sanatorium and its only claim to be one, is its name.

Realizing that this is not actually a sanatorium but just something calling itself a sanatorium, completed my understanding of Naoko’s fate. In an attempt to receive help, she did not get any; She got whatever the sanatorium gave her. That may or may not have been helpful, but it clearly did not save her in the long run. One thing preventing me from writing off the sanatorium as completely anti-medicine is that they do refer Naoko to another place in the end. However, I prefer to read this as them trying to escape blame for what they think will eventually happen to Naoko, which she does actually do at the sanatorium. The fact that Reiko’s condition does not give her suicidal tendencies, like Naoko’s, is purely her luck. The fact that the sanatorium has helped her is a combination of coincidence and mildness. The fact that it seemed to help Naoko was pure coincidence.

It is clear that the sanatorium is only suited for treating non-critical issues and barely treats those. Thus, I would say that the sanatorium failed Naoko and led to her suicide. Naoko turned to the sanatorium for help, not expecting to receive something that passes for help at something that seems like a sanatorium from someone who just happens to be called a doctor. Naoko dealt with herself in the best way she could but ultimately, the application of the logic of names, as in the real world, in the Other World killed Naoko. Although appointed as her doctor, Reiko was just a patient herself and tricked by the same "sanatorium" that Naoko was. Two victims, one killed, one spared, all watched by Toru.

Timothy Obiso

Norwegian Wood: The representation of characters on the big screen

It is impossible to deny that Murakami's Norwegian Wood puts a major emphasis on the topics of mental health and the ramifications that improper care for it leads to. Mentions of depression, trauma, suicide, and other struggles of the sort permeate the entire novel, as most of the relevant characters from said book struggle with them in one way or another. Surrounded by characters like Naoko, Midori, Kizuki, Nagasawa, and so on, Watanabe's near neurotypical nature allows the reader to analyze through the protagonist's impartial perspective the progressive downfall of all the friends that surround him. Progressive, however, is a term that should be used extremely carefully, as the suicides of both Kizuki and Naoko are sudden and relatively unexpected. In Kizuki's case, his death is announced after the protagonist enjoys a peaceful game of pool with his best friend. Instead, Naoko's suicide is announced in a letter by Reiko, just moments after the same character had written to Watanabe about the great improvements that Naoko had been making in therapy. Murakami does an excellent job in maintaining the shock factor of their deaths in written form: as with real life, it is extremely challenging to predict and prevent the suicide of a loved one. 

Still, Murakami's literary prowess gets lost in translation in the book's movie adaptation, as crucial parts of the story and minute details that greatly contribute to the bigger picture are left out of the movie. The resulting product is a production in limbo between being an adaptation and reinterpretation of the famed story. On the one hand, the movie is technically an adaptation in the sense that it mostly treats dialogues between characters as a script for actors to recite. In such a sense, the adaptation is so truthful to the book that the characters played seem rigid and unexpressive. After all, the realistic nature of Murakami's characters is partially due to the literary medium that brings them to life. On the other hand, the creative freedoms that the director takes separates the original product from the reinterpreted work. Unfortunately, most of the "creative freedoms" taken are usually just the removal of scenes intended to flesh out the psyche of the characters involved. 

Take for example the observations made by Watanabe on Naoko's twentieth birthday:

 "Naoko was unusually talkative that night. She told me about her childhood, her school, her family. Each episode was a long one, executed with the painstaking detail of a miniature. I was amazed at the power of her memory, but as I sat listening it began to dawn on me that there was something wrong with the way she was telling these stories: something strange, warped even (Haruki Murakami - Norwegian Wood)."

In the novel, the specific wording used by Murakami paints the scene of a girl running off a broken machine. Naoko talks, gleefully, endlessly, without giving Watanabe any chance to contribute to the conversation. The way in which the scene is described makes it seem as if Naoko will never stop. Furthermore, it establishes a certain eeriness in the atmosphere that is reinforced both by the dark room in which the celebration is being held and by the ambiance of the outside rain. The scene is essential for the understanding of Naoko as a character: it makes the reader understand that something within her is broken, thus providing a major plot point for the rest of the story. The movie, however, does not dedicate the time and attention that this scene deserves, instead boiling it down to a rapid interaction which later leads to meaningless sex. In the movie, Naoko does not appear to be broken in any stretch of the imagination. If anything, she is simply crying because she remembers the death of her past lifelong partner.

Naoko's case, while definitely being one of the most relevant examples, is definitely not the only one. For instance, most references of Stormtrooper are completely removed from the movie. In doing so, the director also deprives Watanabe of his most successful conversation starter. 

Overall, the cinematic project would have been a success if what it wanted to be had been properly decided. By trying instead to be both an adaptation and a stand-alone movie, the positive aspects of both projects cancel each other out. The viewer is left with a fragmented adaptation with some cinematic elements that only those that have read the book can actually understand.

Daniele

Tran Anh Hung’s (Possibly Feminist) Changes to Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood

I am not quite sure where I stand on the quality of Tran Anh Hung’s Norwegian Wood (2010) in comparison to the novel, but I can say that I do not hate the changes Hung made to the narrative. It became clear that the film was made by a woman as I was watching, because I felt that the changes made were in an attempt to remedy the (possibly) sexist aspects of the novel.

The most apparent change I suppose was the humanization of Midori’s character. Hung seemed to want to give her some more human characteristics, rather than just operating as a spectacle, or a plot device furthering Watanabe’s character. I noticed this in the scene where Midori calls Watanabe to inform him of her father’s death. Though in the novel she seems to compartmentalize most emotions and feelings that might make her too similar to Naoko, in Hung’s version–she cries, and is clearly upset. I also noticed that Hung cut the scene of her purposefully wearing short skirts around the boys dorm and the hospital.

I also liked how Hung changed Hatsumi and Nagasawa a bit. I noticed that she was uninterested in moralizing Nagasawa’s character the way that Watanabe does in Murakami’s novel. Watanabe and Nagasawa do not bond over their love of The Great Gatsby, and instead Nagasawa is shown throwing away Watanabe’s book–stripping him of any possibly redeeming qualities. I also thought that the scene at the dinner table where Hatsumi, Nagasawa, and Watanabe talk about the night that Nagasawa and Watanabe was particularly powerful. The camera stays put on Hatsumi as they have that exchange, and we get to see how the story affects Hatsumi, and insinuating the clear line between who is right, and who is wrong at the dinner table. 

I also noticed that Hung cut out Reiko’s backstory regarding the sexual relations between her and her former pupil. I have never known what to make of that aspect of the novel, and I am not sure that I want to? That being the only queer (although, I hate to even call it queer due to the circumstances surrounding it in the narrative) aspect of the narrative doesn’t quite sit right with me, even if it is there for some metaphysical reason. I kind of liked that it was not included in the film because I’m not really sure what it adds to the story.

In all, I didn’t hate the film adaptation as much as the reviews do. I definitely do not think it was better than the novel by any means, but I do respect that changes Hung made regarding the women in the story.

Lexi Nasse

Thoughts on Norwegian Wood

As many students have pointed out that even though the adaptation was faithful to the novel, there were many important pieces missing from the movie. I was a lot more attached to the characters in the novel. For example, I could emphasize for Naoko and Reiko because their backstories explained why they are suffering from psychological issues. Without their backstories, I lacked that attachment with the characters in the movie adaptation. I also that the omission of the backstories weakened the plot.

Even though Toru was cheating, the way Murakami wrote out Toru's confession scene is acceptable as romantic. I think that the movie lacked romance, and I can't really see how Toru and Midori's relationship evolved. 

One thing that I really liked from the movie was the Toru's crying scene. All sounds were muted out, and I think it's a powerful cinematic move because when someone is bawling their eyes out, sometimes it comes out soundless. The actor also did a great job at portraying Toru's grief. The corresponding scene in the novel was different and didn't stand out to me as much. A fisherman came to talk to Toru while he was crying. 

-Rose Zheng

Norwegian Wood Film Review

 As I watched Norwegian Wood, I was impressed by the way the director had carefully translated the melancholic and nostalgic atmosphere of the novel onto the screen. I thought most of the characters were brought to life well, with the exception of Reiko, and particularly enjoyed the performance of Kiko Mizuhara as Midori. The suicides in the movie also felt more graphic and impactful since instead of a second-hand account about them we saw it for ourselves. In particular, Kizuki’s death was only briefly described in the novel despite having a significant impact on the characters. In the movie, I liked that they focused more on it since it was very traumatizing for Toru and Naoko and influenced their behavior throughout the story. As observers, we also had to contend with this heavy imagery. Although we only see Naoko’s dangling feet, it also heightened my reaction compared to in the novel. 

I  liked being able to hear the song Norwegian Wood as I witnessed the characters interacting on screen, and felt that perceiving the music in a similar context that the characters did enhanced my experience and corresponding emotions. At the same time, they could have incorporated this aspect even more since it had great potential and was only executed for one song. Even with Norwegian Wood it was more limited, since they could have started the movie with the flashback scene on the plane, when Toru hears it again and it prompts a rush of memories. 

I also enjoyed the verbatim quotes at first, but looking at it again I think they could have included more to make it feel less disjointed, since we aren’t seeing the inner thoughts of the characters as much. As mentioned earlier, I also didn’t like the portrayal of Reiko in the movie. To begin, I feel that in the movie her character had become much more polished and demure, an elegant woman. Meanwhile in the book, it was highlighted that she had a warm, wrinkled face and carefree energy. She was also a very flat character in the movie, as we didn’t go into her backstory at all and she remained a mystery. In the ending, it also felt that she was unnaturally forcing Watanabe to have sex with her, rather than a consensual agreement produced as a way for both of them to process the death of Naoko. 

Overall, I would recommend this movie, but I also wouldn't uphold it as the best possible interpretation that they could have made. However, within its constraints, it succeeded at conveying the essence of the novel in an impactful way.

Alessandra Leone

Have They Forgotten About Reiko?

     As always, I think reading the book before watching the movie adaptation is the best way to enjoy the movie. I binge read Norwegian Wood and followed suit by finishing the movie right after the showing in class. I was happy to see the actors saying direct lines from the book and that the images and scenes I imagined in my head were very similar in the movie. However, I do think the movie focused too much on summarizing the book as many important elements were left out. Why was there so few scenes with Storm Trooper? He would have added some humor to the movie. Why was the scene of the fire in Midori's neighbor left out? That would have shown more growth in the relationship between Watanabe and Midori. But most importantly, why was Reiko so neglected from the movie's plot?

    From reading the book, I actually became quite fond of Reiko and how she is the mother role in the book. She takes good care of Naoko, makes Watanabe feel comfortable around her, and helps write letters for Naoko. She acted like the guardian for both Naoko and Watanabe and only showed positivity. She smoked more than she ate and didn't find anything negative about that situation. She also let Watanabe and Naoko be alone even though she should be chaperoning them. But there were two scenes that defined her in the book that the movie couldn't put a light on.

    In the book, Reiko tells Watanabe about the story with her student being a lesbian and doing sexual acts on Reiko. She tells him that it is one of the reasons why she is in the sanatorium. It showed how similar she is to Naoko as there are things that she is facing within her that she has trouble controlling. Even though she had to go through a traumatizing event, she shows so much positivity in the book. However, the movie did not include that story and made Reiko have a character without any depth. All she did in the movie was greet Watanabe, play her guitar, be present in some scenes, and have sex with Watanabe at the end of the movie.

    What upset me the most is how they changed the sex scene between Watanabe and Reiko. In the book, it was very mutual between them that they wanted to have sex, but in the movie, Reiko asked Watanabe to have sex with her and he was shocked. He asked her several times if she was serious and Reiko could only nod in silence. It almost seems as if the movie has silenced her and the only times she talks is when she has a favor to ask. Then the scene ends with her thanking Watanabe and then she leaves his apartment. She insists on walking to the station alone and this is the last time we see her in the movie. In the book, Watanabe takes her to the station and even kisses her goodbye. All that was excluded from the movie.

    Reiko had a strong presence in the book and had a strong background story that shocked a lot of readers like me. It was unfortunate that much of her character was not shown in the movie. It seemed as if they had to make room to include her in the movie. Overall, I really enjoyed the movie, but I wish they would have had added more of Reiko's story to the plot.

Sonia

Movie Adaptation of Norwegian Wood: Constraints of Time

        When watching Norwegian Wood, I felt that it was overall a faithful adaptation of the film, despite several major plot points being omitted, as mentioned by others. Despite these omissions, the film did not add any major plot points or change the overall story arc, so I felt it was a good summary film. However, my major complaint with the film was the pacing of it. Though I know a lot of it is due to constraints of the limited time a film has to cover the events of an entire book, I felt that in an effort to stay faithful to the book, the overall feeling that the writing conveys, which is where I felt the power of the book lies, was lost.  

        What struck me the most while reading the book was the sense of the passage of time. In the beginning scenes, the description of Toru’s life when he is first reencountering Naoko seems to pass by very quickly, which feels very similar to how one perceives time in the exciting stages of meeting and falling in love with someone. In later scenes when Toru waits for Naoko to send him letters, first before she enters the sanitorium, and later when her mental health begins to decline once in the sanitorium, Murakami describes the agony Toru is going through by dragging out the descriptions of his days as he spends his time fixating on a response. Again, this distorted sense of time felt very realistic and made Naoko’s death even more jarring. However, in the movie, I felt that this aspect of time and endless waiting without a clear indication of when a response will come was completely omitted, reducing Naoko’s death to a plot point from which several consequences are shown. 

        I also found the emphasis on Kizuki’s suicide to be very interesting. In the book, it was described offhandedly in a few sentences, whereas it was much more overt in the film. I did not expect them to show in such detail how he set it up, as in the book it was described as occurring in the past without anyone knowing the specifics. Despite this being a departure from the book, I actually enjoyed this addition because you could really get a feel for the passage of time and suffering felt by Kizuki as he sat there dying. However, I am not sure if this was the ideal choice for a scene to drag out and emphasize the passage of time, especially considering this was not an emphasized scene in the book.

        For example, one scene I wish they spent more time on and expanded was the scene with Midori’s father. This was one of my favorites and the quietness of the scene sets up the relationship they form. When this is removed from the film, this buildup of the relationship, and the relationship altogether, is removed. Without this important plot point and the quiet hours spent at the hospital, the relationship between Midori and Toru is completely shifted and it seems like Midori forced Toru to see her dying dad, without any indication of Toru’s active interest. Though we get to see her devastation at her father’s death more clearly in the movie, Toru’s reaction to the news is not as significant and seems only to be because of his interest in Midori. 

Sarah 

Scarf vs. Sweater

by Nobel Chan

    In the film version of Norwegian Wood, one notable change from the novel is that Naoko and Reiko make Toru a scarf instead of a sweater. The scarf appears on the movie poster as well, clearly making it an important symbol in the movie (perhaps more important than the book). However, there seems to be no clear reason why they should change the object from a sweater to a scarf.

     

    One possible reason for the change is that the scarf foreshadows Naoko's death. The movie excises the story about Naoko's sister's suicide, therefore it lacks a build-up to Naoko's own death by hanging. The scarf, which wraps around the neck, might be meant to fill in this gap in the movie. If the scarf visually symbolizes hanging, then we only see Naoko's death through allusions; we never see her actual body, only seeing the scarf and the feet dangling. Having Naoko's death occur off-screen is very powerful, juxtaposing the intensely lengthy death of Kizuki at the beginning (also a departure from the novel). The movie draws out the differences between Naoko and Kizuki's deaths, including that Kizuki kills himself in a man-made car in his house whereas Naoko dies in the woods away from everyone. 

    Another change from the book is the color of the gift. The movie's scarf is blue, orange, and white, while the book explicitly states that the sweater is "wine-colored".  "Wine-colored" is dark red, so perhaps the movie changes the color to something more eye-catching. However, the book highlights that Naoko and Reiko "picked the color and style," imparting importance to Murakami's description of the sweater. Strangely, Toru never describes the sweater's style or pattern, and never comments on what the sweater looks like beyond the color. This omission is doubly strange because what we know about the sweater - that Naoko and Reiko each knit half of it - means that the pattern must look strange. One reviewer speculates that the sweater/scarf represents "tak[ing] the good with the bad," with one half of the item being well-knitted and the other not. However, given what we discussed in class the fact that Reiko and Naoko knit the clothing together may indicate the merging of their selves. When Reiko appears in Naoko's clothing at the end, Toru is also wearing the sweater/scarf in the book and movie. Clothing seems to represent all of them combining together, which is exemplified by Reiko and Toru having sex (the physical merging of their bodies). "Take [my share of happiness] and Naoko's and combine them for yourself," Reiko says in her parting words to Toru in the book and movie; the half-knitted sweater/scarf represents their attempts to merge with each other, and if this is the case then I think the book's sweater is a better choice. A sweater wraps around the torso (including the heart) and dark red is more subtle and subdued, conveying the intimacy and all-encompassing nature of Naoko, Toru, and Reiko's bond better than the bright blue scarf. 

 

 

Questions on Kojima's chapter from Christy

1. Kojima focuses on a paragraph from Hear the Wind Sing. He draws connections between this paragraph and many of Murakami’s works. He discusses their connections as ‘his poetics of requiem.’ How intentionally do you think Murakami was with these connections? Can you think of any other subtle connections in his other works? 
2. He discusses the opposing relationship between France and Germany. Each represents the parallel worlds of the dead versus the living. Did you notice the connection between these countries when reading? If you didn’t specifically notice France and Germany’s relationship, were there any other opposing forces you noticed that represented this idea of opposing worlds?  
3. Kojima discusses how Debussy’s Piano Jardins sous la Pluie might have been a more suitable title due to the atmospheric presence of France. Do you agree? Why or why not?
4. As we know, Norwegian Wood is a song by the Beatles. Using cynical wit, the narrator sings about his efforts to have sex with a woman. He realizes she was only leading him on, so he sleeps in the tub by himself. It's implied he burns her house down the next morning, unclear if she’s still inside, as a little revenge. Do you think there are any parallels between the lyrical context of the song and the context of the novel? If so, do you think Norwegian Wood is or isn’t a suitable title?
5. Are there any specific points you think Kojima missed? Is there anything you wish he would have expanded on?

 

Norwegian Wood Movie Reflection

Upon watching the film version of Norwegian Wood, there are some aspects of the film that I enjoyed and there are some that I didn't. On the positives, I thoroughly enjoyed the cinematography. I thought that the film was beautifully shot. There are some camera angles and pans that I liked from an artistic perspective. One vivid scene was when Kizuki committed suicide in the car. The color scheme reminded me of Wong Kar-Wai's Hong Kong films which oftentimes employ all warm colors or all cold colors in one shot to fill the entire screen. I think the colors and the smoke really worked to create the feeling of hellish suffocation but also peaceful Nirvana. Another scene that I really enjoyed cinematically was the snow mountain scene with Toru and Naoko. I thought the stillness of each shot in that scene which was slower and more steady than other scenes represented an important, reflective moment in the plot line. A similar background against the snow and shot (mostly still with a slow zoom in) was used for Toru and Midori's conversation, creating a parallel between the two women who Toru is involved with. Additionally, for the most part, I believe that the characters/actors/actresses were pretty well-chosen (with the exception of Reiko). Toru was depicted plain, innocent-looking student whereas Nagasawa was clearly represented as a playboy type with slick-hair. Naoko was depicted as very slim, weak, and soft-spoken whereas Midori was more playful (although I envisioned her to be more provocative). Hatsumi was fitting in the film and Storm Trooper in the film really brought the writing to life. Overall, I thought the character selection was great. Reiko really did not fit my perception of the character after reading the book. I had a disconnect because not only did the film not mention her disturbing backstory with the 13-year-old girl but I felt like the actress did not encapsulate the unsettling, worn-down feeling the character. 

In terms of things that I did not enjoy as much, I felt like the scenes did not particularly encapsulate the same essence from the book. For example, I was incredibly disturbed by the sex scene with Naoko and Toru. Although Murakami uses sexual intercourse in quite interesting ways in his works, the particular one portrayed in the film took away some of the deeper feelings that the characters had developed for each other. Each scene was short and abrupt. They certainly didn't capture the deeper, meandering progression of Murakami's writing that is more reflective and lingering in the readers' minds. In the ending scene, in between Reiko and Toru's sex and Toru walking Reiko to the station for departure, there is a short transitional scene. After Reiko and Toru's sex, the scene cuts to Toru sitting on a tree branch. The camera then pans to Naoko leaning onto a scene and then slowly to Reiko next to the tree, kneeling by the water. When reading the book, I didn't give too much thought to Reiko and her connection to Toru. I thought the ending sex was just a coping mechanism for both people over the loss of a common friend (a relatively straight-forward and naive interpretation). But this transitional scene linking the three people together made me question if there is actually some deeper and darker interpretation between the relationship of Reiko, Toru, and Naoko. 

Yiqin Zhang

Norwegian Wood: Book versus Movie

     While watching Norwegian Wood, I found much of the dialogue and mood of the movie to feel accurately reflective of the content of the book. However, the major points of discrepancy between the book and movie which stood out to me were in the portrayal of Naoko’s mental illness as well as the relationship between Toru and Reiko in the final scenes.            

Naoko’s mental illness first surfaces as expected, with her crying and then having intercourse with Toru on her 20^th birthday. After that, she falls off the map until she finally allows Toru to visit her at Ami Hostel. It is at this point that I started to feel the movie inaccurately represented her psychological state as well as her relationship with Toru. There are two times when Toru is visiting in the movie that she becomes upset and has a breakdown. In both, she becomes hysterical, screaming and crying, and Toru attempts to physically restrain her and hug her to calm her down. However, in the book, Naoko’s breakdowns typically involve her and Reiko alone, with Reiko providing comfort and Toru sent away where he won’t interfere with Naoko’s processing. In general, it feels that the movie downplays Reiko relationship with the two, while in the book, that relationship feels integral to the movement of the plot and depth of the characters.

            On that same note, when Reiko comes to visit Toru after Naoko’s death, the movie completely scraps the second funeral they throw for Naoko and makes it appear as if Toru is not fully on board with sleeping with Reiko. However, in the book, the funeral is an important turning point for Toru while he processes Naoko’s loss and leads fluidly into his sleeping with Reiko, a development which she suggests, and he admits to having been thinking the same thing. This is completely different from the portrayal in the book. I can imagine that explaining these events may have been too nuanced and time-consuming to make sense for the movie, but I also feel that the movie leaves out important parts of the book that lend themselves to the authentic, messy, human experience Murakami is so known for writing about.

Natalia Kelley

Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Forest from a Cinematic Perspective

Looking at the Norwegian Wood from the perspective of the film gives me the greatest feeling that they are limited in many things. First of all, I think that literature and words bring people more imagination and a sense of substitution. To a certain extent, movies solidify people's thinking and limit their imagination. As far as the Norwegian Wood are concerned, people's sense of substitution is not so strong. I think this is an important question to consider for all literary works made into films. It is clear that every actor who plays a character in the novel is given a fixed concept. For example, when I read the novel, I would imagine the appearance and characteristics of each of them based on Murakami's description of Watanabe and Naoko Midori. This kind of imagination is an important thing that reading can bring, and the film is to solidify the appearance and clothing of the actors. Every time I watch a movie when I see the faces of Watanabe and Naoko, I get a stronger impression in my mind. This leaves me with a preconceived notion and loses a lot of the intertextual stuff. I think it's better to think about the characteristics of each character in the text than the movie brings. Also, the film Norwegian Wood gave me the impression that the whole time they lived in is not like the 1980s described in the book, although the overall environment of the film, such as the environment of the dormitory, the restaurant, and the bookstore, greatly created the atmosphere of the 1980s. I didn't feel the 1980s as described in the book, but it might be more like the beginning of the 21st century. 

Watanabe portrayed in the movie is often read with a novel, and many scenes are switched to the scene after he sleeps with a woman. These make me feel that it is not so real, but a deliberately created atmosphere to shape Watanabe's image. Including the sex scene of Watanabe and Naoko that night made me feel very different from what was described in the book. I think the inner activities and thinking of the characters in the book are difficult to fully express in the film. If the movie has too many narrations in the hearts of the characters at that time, it will destroy the atmosphere, and if there are no words and the idea of ​​​​shaping the hearts of the characters by acting alone is a bit abrupt. It's hard to strike a balance. But one thing is that movies can convey some feelings. What I think the film succeeds in relative to the book is the scene where Kizuki commits suicide in the car. He committed suicide that way, and waiting to die in the car was very painful. The footage shows him choking when the co-pilot starts the engine to let the gas enter the car, which makes me imagine how painful it is to wait quietly for death in that closed environment and for a long time. There was no expression on the actor's face, and I don't know what he was thinking at the time. He was probably too uncomfortable and climbed into the back seat of the car, he took off one of his shoes. I think these portrayals are more impressive to me than just two or three sentences in the novel summarizing Kizuki's death. Relatively speaking, I prefer the more detailed descriptions in the novel, just saying that the film can make my visual memory last longer. Novel and text may make me forget details over time, but I was super excited to read it at the time. However, when I watched the movie, I was not so excited, maybe I was constantly comparing the details in the novel with the details in the movie.

Junze Shan (Andrew)

Norwegian Wood Film vs. Book

     I was pleasantly surprised by the film adaptation of Norwegian Wood. I don't think I had realized just how hard a story it is to tell, but this film navigated the elements of the story extremely well. One of my favorite aspects of the film was Kenichi Matsuyama's performance. He really humanized Watanabe in a way that the book did not necessarily prescribe, but certainly benefit from. Additionally, Kiko Mizuhara was excellent as Midori. Midori is one of my favorite Murakami characters, and Mizuhara was perfect in allowing the brightness of the character to shine.

    I only have two big complaints:

    1. Reiko and Nagasawa were both underdeveloped and unfairly portrayed as one-dimensional. Reiko's backstory is very important to her character and omitting that left her to only be a Watanabe-related plot device. On this most recent reading of the book, I found Reiko to be manipulative and a negative force in the story, and she wasn't given enough depth in the film to be properly considered. Nagasawa was also too predictable. I love how his character was such an asshole, but also funny and somewhat wise, but in the film, he seemed too cold. He had no charisma at all, and was way too far on the "asshole" side of the pendulum.

    2. The music! I love Jonny Greenwood, and his score here was excellent. No complaints with the OST, but in terms of pop music specifically mentioned in the novel, there's only Norwegian Wood. Music was not nearly as important to the movie as it was the novel, and I think that is a critical underestimation of a central theme.

    The film made me appreciate even more how important Midori is to Watanabe. The ending scene should have been impossible to translate to film, but the performances clarified it. Her character was so clearly the "living" side that Watanabe chooses, even after all his trauma and meaningless sex. I'd like to think he finally commits to her, and the film seems to agree with that reading. Sure, the film somewhat forces that interpretation onto the viewer, but I have no qualms about that. Overall, I'm pleasantly surprised, and I think the film serves as a worthy companion piece to the wonderful novel!

-John M. Spaulding

"Norwegian Wood" On Screen

 It is difficult to translate the interiority of a novel into film. This is evident in the 2010 adaptation of "Norwegian Wood" directed by Tran Anh Hung. Part of what makes the novel so compelling is the sense that we know Toru. Through first-person narration the reader has access to his thoughts and feelings which the film lacks.

I enjoyed watching the film, but maybe the close proximity to which I finished the novel and started the film emphasized its shortcomings. Where was Naoko's butterfly barrette, or Reiko's messy hair and wrinkles? Small details start to feel like major omissions with the book fresh in mind.

Music plays a significant role in the novel and its film adaptation. Johnny Greenwood is a prolific composer and I adore his scores for Paul Thomas Anderson's films. In "Norwegian Wood," however, his scoring felt somewhat dissonant. Maybe it would be more appropriate to include particular songs dotted throughout the novel in the track list, though questions of music licensing inevitably come into play. Still, I would've loved to hear Kind of Blue played on repeat like Toru describes in a letter to Naoko. It was great to hear songs by Can and a nice touch that they would have been released during the time period in which the novel is set.

Since film is a time-based medium, its pacing obviously differs from that of a book. Certain things need to be left out and others rushed through. One of my favorite scenes is the book is when Toru offers to sit in the hospital with Midori's father. In the movie it feels rather abrupt and it is Midori who requests that Toru sit with him, not the other way around. I also felt that leaving out Reiko's backstory made her feel like a two-dimensional character on screen.

I think book-to-film adaptation succeed when they take a stance: The director's voice and aesthetic vision resonate clearly in the space of the film while still resembling the original. Maybe "Norwegian Wood" needed to take more artistic liberty instead of merely summarizing its source text. It's always fun to see a book play out on screen instead of just in our minds, but adaptions should provide a different lens into the novel.

Bella

Norwegian Wood Film Review and Book Comparison

 Upon watching Norwegian Wood, it felt like it was a slimmed down version of the book without any extra information. It was like a piece of meat with the fat trimmed off. I noticed that there were many details missing from the film, but it kept the overall meaning or message from the book and didn't stray too much from the main objective of the story that was being given. With this being the case, we didn't see much of Storm Trooper or really go in-depth with the character as much as the book does. We also didn't see as much detail for the surroundings, the flag raising, and even the school riots that the book gives us in comparison. What was given to us were brief interluding segments that detailed what was happening, but nothing was explored in such a way that strayed from the main objective of the story in a picturesque way. It was also more focused on Watanabe and his connection to Naoko, Reiko, Midori, and Nagasawa. Everyone else was left out of focus in the big picture or played a fleeting role in the film.

Other than the details that were left out of the film, I appreciated the cinematic value the film had and the richness to the story it kept true. However, I thought there were moments with how they depicted Naoko that made me feel a bit creeped out or uncomfortable. For example, when Naoko is watching Watanabe sleep at night and when she leans in super close to his face and sniffs him. I felt like it was very odd behavior, but also foreshadowed her mental illness that would worsen as the movie went on until she ended up committing suicide. It was overall a sad movie and kept the same atmospheric feeling that the book gives the reader when they read and imagine the scenes from the writing in the book. There were scenes in the movie that were shown how I thought they would be from the book and there were other scenes that were shown that I didn't really imagine to how the film had it. Although, it was good to see it in the way that was shown in the film, because it changed my perspective of what I imagined from the book and it was intriguing to see it in the way the producers and directors of the movie created it to be.

As per movie ratings go on a movie critic scale, I'd give it a 4 out of 5 stars.

~ Jonathon Little

The Bakery Attacks and Dostoevsky

Murakami wrote two short stories called “The Bakery Attack” and “The Second Bakery Attack”, which look at a type of boundless, violent hunger that various characters experience. In “The Bakery Attack”, he writes, “At first, the feeling was a tiny little emptiness, only about as small as the hole at the center of a donut. However, as time passed, it quickly grew larger and larger inside of us, until by the end it had turned into a gaping nothingness with no end in sight”. I interpreted this “hunger” felt by the characters to be a pathology of the modern condition, where people feel a void within themselves that they struggle to fill, due to becoming self-fragmented and rootless in society. 

The narrator then says, “ Wait, maybe our lack of imagination was what caused this hunger in the first place… Whatever. God, Marx, John Lennon — they’re all dead. We were just hungry, and because of it, we were beginning to fall into the clutches of evil. It wasn’t that hunger was driving us towards evil; rather, it was evil that was driving hunger towards us.” 

In “The Second Bakery Attack”, the narrator represents his hunger through the image of an underwater volcano. He also references Freud, hinting the significance of the underwater volcano as the expression of his inner self. It symbolizes his suppressed depths, a plight of the modern condition.

This idea of metaphorical hunger had been explored by Dostoevsky in The Brothers Karamazov, where he says, “Do you know that centuries will pass and mankind will proclaim with the mouth of its wisdom and science that there is no crime, and therefore no sin, but only hungry men? 'Feed them first, then ask virtue of them!'---that is what they will write on the banner they raise against you, and by which your temple will be destroyed”. In the novel, the characters are driven by the “Karamazov soul”, an animalistic life force that expresses itself through gross indulgence of sensuality. They are unable to fully understand themselves and have purposeful self-fulfillment, or perhaps a “lack of imagination”, which leads them to not have control over their actions. It becomes a self-destructive pattern, in which the “evil” of society drives an emptiness or hunger towards people due to the unfulfillment of their deep desires, and they react to it. 

I am interested in how Murakami approached this question of metaphorical hunger, because to me his message seems to have a note of ambiguity. After the characters successfully rob the McDonalds and eat the hamburgers therefore acting on their urge, the narrator’s hunger, the volcano, has vanished. However, in “The Bakery Attack”, the narrators also experienced this: “By the time we made it back to our room, the nothingness in our stomachs had completely vanished. And, as if beginning to roll down a gentle slope, our imaginations slowly rattled back into motion.” For me, this calls into question if the curse has actually been lifted, because in both cases the hunger had been alleviated at least in the short-term. 

According to Dostoevsky, the indulgence of your superficial desires would not free your suppressed depths. One of the characters, Zosima, says, “ Taking freedom to mean the increase and prompt satisfaction of needs, they distort their own nature, for they generate many meaningless and foolish desires, habits, and the most absurd fancies in themselves [...] [the poor] simply drown their unsatisfied needs and envy in drink.”

If Murakami was inspired by Dostoevsky, maybe he agreed with this view and the curse had not truly been lifted. Alternatively, he could be arguing against it and that indulging those desires would succeed at filling the internal void. 

Alessandra Leone

Orders are Orders

 

For this week’s blog post, I wanted to talk about the Zoo Attack scene from the Wind Up Bird Chronicle. I’m not going to talk about the reading from a literary standpoint, I wanted to talk about it from a psychological standpoint. When I first started reading the short story I felt really uneasy, which at first I thought made sense because it’s a story about the killing of animals which isn’t exactly a pleasant thing. However, I felt like something specific about it was making me feel uncomfortable. Halfway through the reading, I realized it was because it reminded me of a specific passage I read in my Holocaust class last semester. We spent some time studying a passage about the Reserve Battalion 101 of the Nazi party, it talked about different reasonings in trying to understand how were these men able to execute the task they were given. This battalion was tasked to ‘liquate’ 1800 Jews in Josefow, quickly and effectively. I saw parallels in how the soldiers went about carrying out orders they didn’t necessarily want to take part in. The passage we read discussed the emotional turmoil of the men when killing these women and children. It explored the possible reasons for carrying these attitude-behavior behavior discrepancies. This happens when you internally feel one way about a matter, yet your behavior doesn’t line up. In this case, the soldiers didn’t want to kill, but their behaviors (carrying out the killing) as part of their duties did not match. When this happens, people go into distress because of their inability to cope with the situation at hand.   The first time I read about this battalion it caused me some emotional turmoil. There were parallels in this story that made me associate this fictional scene to it. In The Zoo Attack, the main soldier talks about how it’s the first time he was ever in charge of his own group of men. He talked about how he didn’t necessarily want to kill the animals, but he was given orders and he needed to fulfill his duty. I could see him going through an internal battle because something in him knows he doesn’t want to do it, he knows it’s not okay. They are running on little time, with little resources (lack of poison) so they decide they must shoot all the animals. Yet he also starts trying to make justifications for the killings. The animals are weak and starving anyways, he’s mercy killing them. The descriptions of the soldiers taking aim and struggle with the realization that some of the animals they had to finish off with a second round. I picked up on distress that comes from the attitude-behavior discrepancies shown. In the battalion reading, it talked about how some of the men tried to justify themselves when ‘liquating’ children because they knew they were sick and starving anyways, mercy killing. I also remember reading descriptions of how the man in charge of the Battalion, lieutenant Trapp, would become intoxicated with bursts saying he didn’t want to proceed but he was given orders that needed to be carried out, he was also fixated on his duties since this was his first task in which he was in charge of his own men. In the Zoo Attack, after mentioning his discontent, the soldier says, “so as long as the army continued to exist its orders had to be carried out.” The passage on the battalion had similar passages about scenes when they would have to take aim a second time, the messiness of not having resources and just rushing bullets left and right. I’m not saying the Zoo Attack was inspired by this, I just wanted to discuss how it made me feel. Very completely different situations, different countries, different ideologies. Yet this idea of soldiers being devoted to one’s duties, one’s men, one’s country, regardless of the internal struggle is interesting to explore. A lot of psychological questions have been raised when examining the reasoning behind the aggression taken by different countries in war times. Again different situations, but I couldn’t help but feel a parallel between the human distress that came from the responsibility of a soldier ‘carrying out orders.’

Christy Lira Araujo

Murakami and Music

 It is blatantly clear that Murakami has a love for music in every piece of writing that he creates. Within his writing, music creates this special environment for the reader through the reader's ideas of what the music sounds like. It sets the mood and tone even if the reader has never heard such music before. Even more so when the reader actually does know the music that is being played within Murakami's work. In my opinion I believe this is intuitive, because if the reader does not know the music being played, then they will try to fit their own background music for the scene that they are picturing within their mind from reading the work by Murakami. It creates another level of sub-conscious creativity as the reader configures the scene from the text. It is also intriguing to listen to the music after reading it in the text and imagining the scene. Often times and personally, it turns out to be music I wasn't expecting and creates another parallel mood for the scene that was being played out in my mind from reading the text. I believe this is good for the readers of Murakami, because it allows the reader the room to not only have creativity and set the scene themselves, but also dig deeper and explore the actual music being played within the scene.

Murakami's work also flows like music. Every sentence and dialogue between characters within the work of Murakami has a rhythm. I believe this is because Murakami listens to music as he writes and what we get is formed from his passion towards the music he was listening to during that very moment he was writing that particular scene out in his work that mentions the music being played. It would make sense because of the regularity of mentioning the music in the background within his work and the way his writing is structured when a particular tune is mentioned. It fits the quality of his work in many ways. Without music in his work, I don't think we would be reading the same work by Murakami. His work is heavily centered upon this aspect of detail, along the very different formats and structures of his prose of parody to other writers, including himself. 

In totality, I find it enjoyable as a reader to have this side to Murakami's writing. It enhances the quality of the reading and allows room for creativity to exist when forming the scene. It gives the reader something to explore and perhaps extend their musical horizons or musical knowledge after the fact. This bridges a connection between the author and the reader as well. It allows the reader to connect with the author on a spiritual level through music and find a mutual understanding of why the scene is written the way it is. It creates a side of Murakami that is much more than a regular author and story.

~ Jonathon Little

Processing Generational Trauma

After reading Murakami’s essay “Abandoning a Cat” you can observe how Murakami carries many aspects of his relationship with his father into his writing. In the essay Murakami discusses his father, his entanglement with war, and the strains of their relationship. Murakami seems to explore his father’s experiences and their relationship in his novels, as many scenes described in the essay are extremely similar to scenes from his novels. 

In “Abandoning a Cat” Murakami recounts the only story his father told him about his wartime experiences, where his unit executed a chinese soldier. This anecdote seemed very similar to the scene described in The Wind Up Bird Chronicle when the Lieutenant had to execute the Chinese soldiers who tried to escape, as well as the zoo massacre scene. In both instances Murakami describes how the soldiers knew they were going to die and did not resist their executions, and the “torment and anguish” felt by the people forced to kill. It seems that war and violence had a profound effect on Murakami’s father as he describes how his father’s experiences caused him to be violent towards his students and drink excessively. Murakami references Japanese Militarism frequently, and war and violence are common themes in his novels. From his accounts in “Abandoning a Cat” it seems that he uses his novels as a way of exploring these topics and their effect on people’s lives, as well as processing generational trauma passed down to him from his father.

In the essay Murakami also discusses his relationship with his father stating “when I became a full-time writer our relationship got so convoluted that in the end we cut off nearly all contact. We didn’t see each other for more than twenty years, and spoke only when it was absolutely necessary.” (Murakami 9). Even from the language of the essay you can feel the distance in their relationship. When Murakami talks about their relationship he uses words like “think”, “assume”, and “guess” when describing his father’s feelings, showing how little he connected with his father. This reminded me a lot of the descriptions of fathers in Kafka On The Shore and 1Q84. In both of those novels Tengo and Kafka have strained and distant relationships with their fathers, and both specifically mention at times believing that their father was not their actual biological father. When Murakami describes his final encounter with his father in the hospital it seemed extremely similar to the situation between Tengo and his father at the end of his life, which takes up a good portion of 1Q84. It seems to me that Murakami is using these depictions of fathers to reflect on and process his own relationship with his father and find closure.

Ken

Body Parts in Murakami's Work

If there’s one consistent thing throughout many of the Murakami works we’ve read so far, it’s a persistent and confounding obsession with body parts. The most obvious example of this is, of course, the girlfriend’s ears in A Wild Sheep Chase, which are not only described as “the dream image of an ear,” but also in turn beautiful, erotic, and enthralling (34). This woman, however, is not the only one in this novel to have body parts described in excruciating detail. The secretary, too, has a perfect feature: His hands. His hands are described as “truly beautiful […], if somehow unsettling” and his fingers as “tense, compelling, [and] nerve-racking.” (61, 124).

The body part obsession carries into Murakami’s short stories. In Sydney Green Street, the characters chase after the sheep man’s ear, which is decidedly not perfect as it is put on a pizza and covered in hot sauce. In The 1963/1982 Girl From Ipanema, there is another focus on the “metaphysical sole” of the girl’s feet, which are described as perfect, and as neither too hot nor too cold (11). There are also extremely detailed descriptions of non-human body parts, like the whale penis in A Wild Sheep Chase which is described as unrecognizable as a part of a body and is sad and twisted.

I’m not sure what these body parts are intended to represent, if anything specific, or if they are even intended to represent the same thing in each case. Sometimes I feel like the perfect body parts in A Wild Sheep Chase and The 1963/1982 Girl From Ipanema indicate a connection to the other world – after all, the girlfriend clearly has some supernatural powers, the secretary is arguably also implied to have a connection to the world of the sheep himself, and the Ipanema Girl is also clearly somehow connected to the other world where time does not pass and everything is simply metaphysical. These descriptions always feel either implicitly or explicitly erotic, as if there is nothing more attractive than an ear, a hand, or a foot.

On the other hand, the descriptions of body parts and features that are somehow wrong are always a touch unsettling and seem to function as various representations of corruption. In both the case of the whale penis and the sheep man’s ear, there is a separation from the body, a sometimes literal staining of that which is considered erotic or perfect when attached to the body. Maybe that juxtaposition between perfection and twisted ugliness is the point. Maybe the idea is that something so perfect can always be thoroughly destroyed, like a flower crushed thoughtlessly under someone’s foot, or a set of footprints trampled through fresh snow.

-Amanda

The Continuation of "Two Worlds" in The Second Bakery Attack

In A Wild Sheep Chase, Kafka on the Shore, and I’m sure many other of Murakami’s works, he seems to revisit this idea of a divided“two worlds.” This is continued in The Second Bakery Attack, with the description of Boku’s metaphorical volcano.

Murakami seems to split the story into “two worlds,” a more literal one, and a metaphorical one. Volcanoes build up before eventually imploding, and, to me, the volcano seems to symbolize the curse, as well as a lingering guilt, or a need to reconcile with a past life (or “world”) before it catches up to him. The first reference to this metaphorical volcano corresponds when Boku is struck with “a special kind of hunger” in the literal world:

“One, I am in a little boat, floating on a quiet sea. Two, I look down, and in the water I see the peak of a volcano thrusting up from the ocean floor. Three, the peak seems pretty close to the water’s surface, but just how close I cannot tell. Four, this is because the hyper-transparency of the water interferes with the perception of distance.” (38)

At this point, the volcano serves as a reminder of his looming guilt, but it is not fully clear yet. It is not until he recalls the bakery attack he committed in his past that he notes, “the clarity of the ocean water all around the boat gave [him] an unsettled feeling, as if a hollow had opened somewhere behind [his] solar plexus–a hermetically sealed cavern that has neither entrance nor exit” (39). However, it is not until after his wife reveals that he must be cursed that the “water was even clearer than before–much clearer” (43). The volcano disappears after Boku and his wife rob the McDonalds, and break the curse.

All in all, it seems as though the volcano was implemented into the story and order to communicate the need to deal with past mistakes, traumas, etc. of the past, or else the guilt (the volcano) will continue to loom and consume you–even in your new present life (or “world”).

Lexi Nasse

Misnomers in Murakami

 The signifier, the signified, their relationship, and their arbitrariness are four things that Murakami is known to play with in his writing. The most common way this is realized is through names of characters and places—some of Murakami's most postmodernist thoughts and musings are even revealed in dialogue between characters. One effect of this distortion is to dehumanize what is misnamed, to purposefully mischaracterize its essence, producing the jarring effect. This effect is delivered in two parts: the first is the shock caused by calling something the wrong name. the second is looking at that deeper. I applied this line of thinking to two stories where people and things are misnamed, "The Second Bakery Attack" and "Barn Burning".

In "The Second Bakery Attack", what they attack is not a bakery at all it is a McDonald's. First, the reader experiences the shock from hearing that a McDonald's is apparently close enough. Surprisingly, the reader accepts this explanation because when considered alongside the hysteria and ridiculousness of the situation, this does not seem completely out of line. The second part of the effect is far more interesting. What does it do to this McDonald's to call it close to a bakery? My first impression is that, if anything, a McDonald's is a soulless corporate version of a bakery. This means that the couple is attempting to relive an experience of the past, but are doing so in a completely inauthentic way. This misnaming initiates the comparison in the reader's mind, allowing the conclusion that the couple is definitely fanatic but there is something inauthentic or unreachable about their frenzy, stopped by modernity or corporatism. 

In "Barn Burning", "barn"/"greenhouse" is a stand-in for women. Burning barns means killing women. This distortion has more reasons behind it, particularly to obscure the crime being committed when it is discussed openly, which the narrator does not investigate until it is too late. Before making the connection, the barns are described as run-down places that no one would miss if they disappeared. Even without knowing this is actually a description of people, this description serves as his reason to burn them down and he feels justified in this, yet still covers up what he is actually doing. In this story, the consequence of referring to women as barns is the fact that people then feel entitled to burn them as they please. Here, the misnaming and shock are not the only factors driving the plot. The act of burning solely because of the way they were able to be characterized is used as an argument against this haphazard naming or misnaming because of the negative result (death) obtained by its full application.

Tim