Insónia: Norwegian Wood (Translation)
(This article is a translation of the original Insónia: Norwegian Wood published on May 2nd, 2022)
I decided to write a little about the first and only work I’ve read so far by the Japanese writer Haruki Murakami. I’m someone who loves talking about culture, and I usually start by telling without sharing the whole story, a little out of respect for others who might want to read, see, or hear the cultural creation I’m talking about, but also because I think that some works are worthwhile without their content, simply because of the form they take, and those are always the ones that interest me the most.
I realise that whenever I talk about books that are important to me that I’ve read, I always end up recounting either the historical context of Ernest Hemingway’s Fiesta (The Sun Also Rises) or Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Every creation has a context that usually gives it more intense symbolism, and these two works have that curious power.
Very briefly, in the first work, Hemingway asked Fitzgerald for his opinion on the book, and the latter gave him an opinion that the other ended up following almost to the letter. As for Don Quixote, there’s a whole historical context related to the release of an unofficial second volume and the desire of the Spanish writer Cervantes to get rid of the character who was slipping out of his control. Both stories are more complex, but neither is the focus of this article. They’re just some of the trees in this literary forest that I keep exploring.
Why all this introduction? Well, to understand Murakami and comprehend Haruki is also an exercise in dissecting his taste in music, as it’s easy to realise since the message is immediately conveyed by the title of the work. Norwegian Wood is the title of one of The Beatles’ many songs, and at the same time, it is the favourite song of one of Toru’s first romantic attractions, Naoko. This is the music that transports the narrative and, fundamentally, the reader.
I already know the next question: what about the juice of the work? Writing and talking about books is something that has always captivated me, whether it’s for the challenge or to realise for myself what I got out of a book. Allied to this, there’s always the fear that those who come to read it will end up missing out on all the surprises the book had for me.
So I’ll give you a quick description of what happens in this book for anyone who wants to read it: Watanabe tries to find himself while at the same time trying to find love for himself. There’s a lot of sexual attraction and a lot of chemical and psychological activity that drives the story along, almost as if it were being pulled by a leash.
One of the most intense topics is suicide, and it’s as present as the sun in our lives: sometimes we end up facing it without barriers, and in other cases, it’s in the background, without us seeing it but recognising that it’s there. In a natural way, suicide is the leading cause of death among men aged 20–44 and women aged 15–34; in general, there are 15.3 suicides per 100,000 inhabitants (in Portugal, the figure is 11.5).
In short, Toru finds himself and ends up finding love. This ending is also interesting to analyse because there can be a north and south pole of interpretations here: I interpreted it as Watanabe finding love; on online forums, I found the possibility of interpreting that the main character of this book also commits suicide.
Suicide, love, and the in-between
Now let’s get on the bullet train and quickly tell you what happens. The whole book is the “result” of Toru Watanabe’s narration of his life, between romances with Naoko and Midori as well as some closer relationships with other colleagues. Kizuki, Naoko’s boyfriend and Toru’s best friend, is a major influence in Toru’s relationship with Naoko.
His suicide is a deadly thread that unites them, either because they want to remember him or because they want to unearth his figure and what happened: there was something they could have done differently; something indicated that it could have happened; what now?
Naoko is a person who will be highly marked by this death, and her whole person will be transfigured. Toru is not indifferent; he even recognises that as he was the last person to speak to Kizuki, he could probably have identified some sign of this outcome [there was nothing to indicate that he could have done anything; there was no written farewell letter, and during the snooker game they didn’t talk about anything like that].
In the meantime, Toru meets Nagasawa, a very intelligent friend with a devoted girlfriend (Hatsumi), who is always looking for another romance in the night as if he were the gambler in Dostoevsky’s book and couldn’t turn down an opportunity, and also Storm Trooper, a roommate who is special for his love of geography and his more unique attitudes.
When Naoko turns 20, Toru goes to celebrate with her and ends up having one of the only moments when she talks openly about her life. Without much encouragement, after four hours of conversation, she ends up crying uncontrollably, and Toru hugs her. They end up going to bed, and it’s only a while later that Watanabe learns from Naoko that she was a virgin. This is a somewhat grey part of the work, and that feeling is reflected in the writing:
I slept with Naoko that night. Was it the right thing to do? I can’t tell. Even now, almost 20 years later, I can’t be sure. I suppose I’ll never know. But at the time, it was all I could do. She was in a heightened state of tension and confusion, and she made it clear she wanted me to give her release.
Naoko ends up going to a residence in Kyoto called Ami Residence, which is isolated from society and aims to re-establish people away from societal pressures. It will be an intense time for her, as it is a place where people are comfortable preparing and growing their own food stocks. It is, in essence, a self-sustaining community in which everyone is trying to find their mental centre. Here, Toru meets Reiko, a friend of Naoko who lives with her. Reiko’s story is also interesting, but, as a secondary character, I won’t explain it here. I recommend reading it because it’s also a very well-told story.
One day, Toru meets Midori, the second of his crushes. Midori is the complete opposite of Naoko: she’s independent and outgoing, a symbol of the modern, fighting woman. At this point, Midori has a boyfriend, but even her relationship with him is unstable, and she begins to develop an attraction for Watanabe.
Midori lives with her sister in their parents’ bookshop and is always looking after her father, who is in the hospital undergoing ongoing treatment. Her mother has already died, and Midori’s growth is greatly influenced by these factors.
Fast forwarding (because the text is already long), and Naoko’s condition worsens. She starts hearing voices and can no longer sit down to answer Toru’s letters. One day they discuss the possibility of her going to a specialised hospital to get better, which she does. Signs of improvement begin to appear, and one day Naoko asks to visit Reiko at the residence to collect some things she is missing and to say goodbye before returning to the hospital.
That night, she talks to Reiko about her experience with Toru, and it’s in the early hours of the morning that she commits suicide. She had it all planned out, and the act of burning Toru’s diaries and letters was intended, according to her, to “erase the past and start again”.
This whole story is something that Toru learns during Reiko’s visit to his house. The two of them have dinner and end up getting sexually involved. It’s a time of sexual liberation, and this point needs to be emphasised, even if the encounter seems strange.
The book ends with Toru calling Midori to recognise that the timelines have reached a common point and, finally, with their heads on an even keel, Watanabe and Midori can be together.
Murakami’s Literary Forest
I realise that this description is very long. There are other stories that fall in between, and certain attitudes are better justified by the context that hasn’t been presented here. I’m not presenting this book to the class, but I wanted to point out the fundamental themes that this work carries.
Whenever I end up talking about the book, I describe it as “intense”. Mental health, suicide, growing up as a teenager, the political state, and sex are all themes that are dealt with in this book.
Murakami’s writing is very fluid and vivid. Haruki uses a technique that I have come to really appreciate in books, which is to first tell the end of an event and then tell the journey there. This technique, done poorly, ends up creating a scenario in which we’ve already played the trump card and then hope that the rest of our cards are up to scratch. And with Murakami, it always works.
At the beginning of the last chapter, we are told straight away about Naoko’s death, and then we make the journey to that climax. Sometimes we learn about something tragic in the middle of a conversation, as in the case of Naoko’s suicide, without there being an intense description of what it was. Life works like that: plots happen, and we just have to deal with them. There’s no poetic description; there’s no theatre composed to explain what happened. There’s the event, and what now?
I have to point out that the figure of Watanabe is also a somewhat complex figure for me to support. The female characters are complete figures, but they seem to be there for Toru. And this can be seen in the fact that three of the female figures Toru deals with end up getting sexually involved with him. Are these events without romantic significance? Is it a sign of the sexual liberation typical of the time? It’s hard to define.
If there’s one thing I’m going to point out as an excellent sign of this work, it’s the role of music. It’s always there, a bit like in our own lives. We listen to music everywhere, and if there’s one thing we all share, it’s music, the taste we have, the experiences we’ve had with music, not to mention concerts and even music as a gift.
For those who don’t like reading books, there’s a 2010 film about the work that tells this story very well. There is some artistic freedom when it comes to what is told and in what order, but it’s forgiven. It’s a great set and a great production. I just have to point out that the original creation is clearly superior.
Norwegian Wood is a work that I highly recommend. If only to read such phenomenal extracts as
I wrote letters at empty tables during my breaks at the Italian restaurant. It was as if I were writing letters to hold together the pieces of my crumbling life.
Sometimes it’s only by writing that we put together the missing pieces of our story.
Pedro Barreiro
