If there’s one book one shouldn’t pick up on a long distance flight, it’s Norwegian Wood. I read it in one sitting on the flight, hardly getting any sleep. Read it again over the last few days as I struggled with this newfound stubborn biological clock.
There’s a certain grace with which Murakami talks of suicide. In the way that swaying bodies don’t fall with a thud, but with a gentle limpness. Yet, the harshest the book is – is in its moments when it explores self-introspection of each character. We are so harsh on our selves. How you snatch away the possible beauty of the next moment because of the guilt of the current one. Or how the death of young people on their happiest days feels somewhat like watching a kite being let loose from the string. The kite soars with the wind, and your heart sinks deeper. Sometimes, the kites get stuck on trees and children go and rethread it. But the kite forever remains frayed. At various ends.
Like sitting in the University lawns long ago, you sometimes spied on a forearm full of cuts. She’ll tell you a story about falling on barbed wire, or how her gold bangles got too hot while cooking. In that moment – the limpidnesss of her eyes will then tell you a million stories. Which you must ignore, because you cannot afford to sink yourself further. So you sweep aside that brown of her eyes and catterpillar like bumps on the forearm and go back to reading your text on semiotic analysis.
What a marvellous book. If you’re like me and have some time to waste, thinking about existence, love, sanity and other marbles on the floor – read it. There’s great dignity in life, there’s equal dignity in death. That’s what strikes you about Murakami. That these two states of existence or identity be so fluid. Brilliant.
“There’s great dignity in life, there’s equal dignity in death.”
Does it imply theres equal dignity in “dying”?
“That these two states of existence or identity be so fluid”
The statements presuppose life. Wouldnt life and death be two states of “existence” only from the perspective on an “outsider”… an “outsider” who is alive? From the perspective of an “insider”, death would be a just a state… of non-existence? of nothingness?…where concepts of life and death do not exist(Do I hear any voices from the dead?).
It is only life that can being the concepts of “life” and “death” to life, romantisize it or call it “a state of existence” or “a state of nothingness”. Isnt that the beauty of life…
aramichuttangayya….kettoma?
thinking you are Camus, not even pakkathu veettu Kaamu.
Sri: Dying is an interesting word. Sort of like suspended life and expected death. There’s dignity in that too – yes. But there is a certain pain associated with dying. And it’s more than just that physical process anyway. Or maybe dying has nothing to do with life or death.
Actually the statements pressupose existence, rather than life. So are life and death subsets of existence? The outsider-insider dichotomy may not exist if your world is limited to yourself. Within yourself you may be willing to look at your existence differently. How an outsider views or judges your state of existence is an entirely different matter.
I hear voices from the dead. All the time. :)
I think I prefer to believe that life has no default beauty or joy. Similar to death perhaps. Maybe the only thing I should be hankering after is relief. Life is meaningless without death. It has no value, no significance without the act of dying which might signify the end. Or signify relief. Respite and other such words.
PS – I don’t particularly think we’re saying different things btw.
Nilu: Kettena?
I loved this book actually I think most of Murakami’s work is great
Norwegian Wood is one of my favourite Murakami books (I’ve read them all and respect his writing immensely!). I think beyond anything what touched me most about this book was the wistful sadness that prevaded his writing. Naoko was tragedy personified, Toru always melancholy and Midori so wonderfully stoic despite her difficult life. The characterisation was phenomenal and their brutal honesty is testament to how Murakami touches so many chords with such a diverse readership through that simple fact- anyone can lie to the people around then but in their own mind they only see their truths. Really glad you enjoyed it- try Kafka on the Shore or South of the Border, West of the Sun next. Both are excellent.
I like the line “In the midst of life, everything revolved around death.”
Isn’t he brilliant? Norwegian Wood was the first Murakami I read too, and went on to buy and read everything else I could find. NW is of course not halfway as bizarre as the others, but it has its Murakami motifs…wells, suicide, does it have a cat, can’t remember…
And the song you know, it somehow seems to be able to approximate the atmosphere of the Beatles song…
On another note: Murakami is potential PhD topic number zillion :)
PS: Buy Kafka on the Shore. You’ll like it, promise.
Oh hang on, don’t I know how you happen to own Norwegian Wood in the first place?!!!