Not for me.

This simple phrase holds a world of meaning. It can signify a personal preference, a boundary, or a sense of detachment.

Perhaps it's about a particular activity that doesn't interest us, a style that doesn't suit our taste, or a situation that we choose to avoid.

When we say "not for me," we are asserting our individuality and making a statement about what we value and what we don't.

It's important to respect our own feelings and choices, even if they don't align with those of others.

Saying "not for me" can also be a way to protect ourselves from things that might cause stress, discomfort, or unhappiness.

It allows us to focus on the things that truly matter to us and pursue the paths that bring us joy and fulfillment.

So, the next time you find yourself thinking "not for me," don't be afraid to say it out loud and embrace your own unique perspective.

So. Damn. Good.

Toru Watanabe is constantly reminded of the love and pain of his youth whenever he hears Beatles' songs like 'Hey Jude' and 'Norwegian Wood'. This immediately casts the reader back to Toru's late teenage and early 20s in the late '60s and early '70s, centered around Tokyo. The premise of an older person recalling their youth might seem simple, but not with Murakami! Oh no. It's so much more than that.

Murakami surprised many by writing a 'normal' novel instead of his typical magical realist works. He even admits to being'shocked' and 'dismayed' when this book catapulted him from a niche cult writer to a world-famous celebrity author. But the beauty of this amazing piece lies in the fact that it's anything but normal. The characters are innovative, formidable, and even brain-hurting (yes, really!). From the almost callous ultra-realist Nagasawa to the highly strung but practical Midori, who marches to the beat of her own drum.

As always, his writing is pitch perfect. The dialogue and some of the exchanges in this book are truly outstanding. It's not just a normal novel. It's a five-star read - 11 out of 12, to be exact.

My 2008 one-sentence review said it all: 'An understated masterpiece by Murakami'.

Women's History Month has come to an end, and it seems only appropriate to set feminism aside for a moment and pick up a long-awaited book.

\\n  \\n    “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.”\\n  \\n

"Norwegian Wood" is a coming-of-age novel that follows Toru Watanabe as he reflects on his college years in the late 1960s and early 1970s. He experiences love and heartbreak with various women and struggles to come to terms with the suicide of his best friend from a few years prior. The novel delves into themes of grief, coping, and love.

Because Murakami's main genre is magical realism, his dreamlike tone permeates the narrative. His writing is ethereal and almost fantastical. The way he describes feelings related to mental health, depression, and grief is one of the most beautifully written portrayals I have ever read. This is perhaps why I loved the book so much, despite its various flaws.

The prose is both melancholy and beautiful. It has a muted quality, yet it is incredibly vivid. I was transported into a time and world I have never known. I felt what the characters were feeling and breathed the air they were breathing. So many lines and passages deeply resonated with me, and it was an almost cathartic experience.

However, I believe it is important to critique and engage in literary discourse about aspects that may fall short, even in books that I enjoy. In this case, it is the portrayal of women.

It is impossible to read a Murakami novel without being shocked and almost disgusted by the regressive and objectifying nature of his female characters. In typical Murakami fashion, the women are overly sexualized without any real purpose. They are manic pixie dream girls, seemingly designed to fulfill the male gaze. I sometimes find it amusing how much men assume women are preoccupied with their bodies. I could look at a picture of my own breasts and not even recognize them.

All in all, Murakami has once again created a beautiful novel that explores profound and important themes, while unfortunately mishandling the portrayal of women. Strangely enough, I'm okay with that.

Although some things didn't convince me 100%, Norwegian Wood is such an intimate, melancholy, and desolate novel that it's impossible to remain indifferent during the reading.

The central theme is the processing of grief and the depression it generates, so it's not a particularly light novel. However, precisely because of this, I think it will be able to move something inside you.

It's really recommended! This novel takes the reader on an emotional journey, exploring the complex emotions and inner turmoil of the characters. The writing style is beautiful and evocative, painting a vivid picture of the setting and the characters' experiences. Despite its heavy subject matter, Norwegian Wood manages to find moments of hope and beauty, making it a truly unforgettable read.

Questa è una recensione negativa. Se ami visceralmente questo libro, al punto di non poter accettare che qualcuno lo critichi o metta in luce le problematiche al suo interno, sei invitato a passare oltre. Subissarmi di commenti o messaggi privati in cui mi aggredisci, mi insulti, o cerchi di convincermi che non sono autorizzata a parlare male del tuo libro preferito non servirà a farmi cambiare idea e avrà come unico risultato quello di farti bloccare.

C’era davvero bisogno di fare questa premessa? Fidatevi che sì.

Ti starai forse chiedendo, lettore, per quale motivo abbia scelto di aprire la mia recensione con una citazione di questo tipo. Il primo è che la suddetta frase rappresenta perfettamente la cifra stilistica dell’opera da cui è tratta. Il secondo è che, non potendo rimuovere questo libro dalla mia memoria, trovo giusto infliggere almeno una parte della mia sofferenza sui malcapitati che leggeranno queste righe.

Ma andiamo con ordine.

Il primo e principale problema in cui mi sono imbattuta leggendo "Norwegian Wood" è quello del genere. Nonostante venga normalmente presentato come un'opera di narrativa letteraria, infatti, questo romanzo mi ha subito colpito per la sua somiglianza con i classici del romance.

Per chi non fosse pratico del settore: l’editoria italiana e quella internazionale classificano come romance quei libri incentrati su una storia d’amore tra due o più persone e culminanti in un lieto fine per la coppia principale.

Non solo "NW" soddisfa entrambi questi requisiti, ma contiene anche molti clichè (o, se preferite, espedienti narrativi) comunemente impiegati nella letteratura rosa.

Il protagonista è il classico ragazzo qualunque dalla personalità abbastanza neutra, costruito per far sì che la maggior parte dei lettori possa immedesimarsi in lui.

Nonostante non possieda particolari qualità, il suddetto protagonista funge inesplicabilmente da calamita per il genere femminile. Le donne gli si gettano addosso con straordinaria frequenza.

Gli altri personaggi maschili o muoiono, o sono dipinti come degli stronzi senza cuore che maltrattano le donne.

I personaggi femminili, e in particolare i due principali interessi amorosi, esistono solo in funzione del protagonista. Naoko e Midori sono figure macchiettistiche, costruite a partire da una fantasia romantica/erotica.

Voglio comunque mettere in chiaro una cosa: le caratteristiche sopra elencate, pur potendo risultare fastidiose, non costituiscono di per sé un difetto insormontabile. Non c’è nulla di male a scrivere una storia incentrata su una fantasia romantica.

Ma questo non spiega come mai un’opera simile venga trattata come un “romanzo di formazione” e non come una storia d’amore. L’unica giustificazione che riesco a darmi è legata all’identità dell’autore.

Rimane il fatto che, da qualunque prospettiva lo guardi, per me questo libro non ha funzionato. Non ha funzionato come romanzo letterario perché è troppo stereotipato, irrealistico e pieno di clichè. E non ha funzionato come romance perché il suo target non sono io e la mia idea di romanticismo è lontanissima da quella di Murakami.

A tal proposito, preferisco sorvolare sulla caratterizzazione di Reiko e sui toni usati dall'autore per descrivere una scena di sesso tra un'adulta e la sua allieva tredicenne.

Se volete leggere una storia di formazione che affronti in modo realistico il tema dei disturbi mentali, sia ambientata in Giappone e includa un buon numero di scene di sesso, vi consiglio piuttosto "La Mia Prima Volta" di Kabi Nagata.

A sad but beautiful story about love and memories that stay with you, even when things change or people leave.

This is truly one of the best love stories I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It has touched my heart in ways I never thought possible.

This happens to be my first encounter with a Murakami book. Norwegian Wood was recommended by Linus Cheung (張永霖) on RTHK radio in Hong Kong.

To make a long story short, my Hong Kong uncle introduced me to listening to his radio program (張永霖的世界). It was through this program that I first heard about this amazing book.

I promptly bought the book online and it was delivered by courier service to my town. The anticipation of receiving it was almost as exciting as reading it.

I am truly grateful that I was so lucky to have listened to that radio program. It has opened up a whole new world of literature for me.

I am in complete admiration of this author. He is a wonderful writer, capable of creating vivid characters and complex storylines that draw you in and keep you hooked until the very end.

I have no doubt that I will continue to read Murakami books. His writing style is unique and captivating, and I can't wait to see what other masterpieces he has in store for us. Year 2013.

Sadness is truly an extremely complex emotion. It has the strange ability to dissolve the boundaries of the reality that surrounds you and completely immerse you in an alternate world.

In this world, only you and that feeling exist in perfect harmony, and nothing else matters. You can luxuriate in the richness of its beauty and be amazed by the tranquility it offers.

Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood evokes precisely such similar emotions in the reader.

There are some books that you read and they leave you with stories - bitter, exciting, adrenaline-driven, romantic, depressing, or grisly. And then there are books that leave you with feelings.

Norwegian Wood most definitely belongs to the second category.

In my opinion, it is infinitely easier to deconstruct a story in a review than the feeling it leaves you with. But here is an attempt anyway.

This is a beautifully crafted, somber yet incredibly sensual tale of unfulfilled love where the central characters are, in essence, broken individuals.

In a very indolent manner, the book begins with our narrator Toru Watanabe, catching the strains of an orchestral version of The Beatles' 'Norwegian Wood' on a flight to Hamburg and starting to reminisce about a certain girl named Naoko from his youth in Tokyo.

From here on, the story is told as a flashback, as a sliver of memory that the 37-year-old Toru has carefully preserved or perhaps is struggling not to forget.

The story mainly revolves around the trials and tribulations of the three key characters - Toru, Naoko, and Midori.

Toru, a reserved young college student, is shown to be somewhat anti-social, not easily opening up to others as others do to him. There is a sense of profound sadness within him, hidden skillfully beneath a veneer of indifference, probably resulting from the loss of his childhood friend Kizuki, who committed suicide at 17.

Naoko, Kizuki's first and only girlfriend, is a beautiful and emotionally fragile being who has been unable to come to terms with the tragedy of Kizuki's untimely death.

Still in mourning and bound by a mutual feeling of isolation, Toru and Naoko forge an unnatural connection when they cross paths again years later in Tokyo.

Toru falls in love immediately, and she also feels something like love for him, but unfortunately, it is not enough to heal them both.

Soon, the emotionally unstable Naoko retreats to a sanatorium in mountainous Kyoto while Toru tries to continue his life as an unremarkable university student, seeking comfort in sleeping with random women.

In Naoko's continued absence, he befriends the bright, sassy, sexually liberated Midori Kobayashi, who has also had her share of tragedies but still manages to be optimistic.

His unlikely friendship with Midori helps to dispel some of the darkness in Toru's life, but he is still unable to get Naoko out of his mind and keeps writing her letters regardless of whether she replies or not.

The rest of the book details Toru's dilemma as he is torn between these two women, never quite sure whether to shun his troubled past and embrace reality as it comes or keep waiting for Naoko to fully recover from her festering psychological wounds.

Written in a lucid language, the book is full of metaphors usually represented by the description of natural scenery.

Murakami's obsession with western classics and music is reflected in the countless references to Beatles numbers like "Yesterday", "Michelle", "Something", Bach, Mozart, Scarlatti, and literary works of Joseph Conrad, Fitzgerald, Thomas Mann, Karl Marx, and so on.

The brief overview of the plot does not do justice to the story in any way. For a book like Norwegian Wood cannot be summarized.

It is about human relationships that cannot be named or clearly defined. It is about the ghastly specter of death and the way the people who are no longer with us sometimes leave us in a permanent state of damage.

It is about friendship, love, and sexuality. And most importantly, it is about sadness. In its cruelest yet most beautiful form.

The inherent dreariness of the book gets to you at some point or another, but Murakami's compelling story-telling ways ensure that you keep reading until the very end.

This book was truly disgusting.

Toru, the main character, is极其平庸.

All the women in it are horrible and one-dimensional; they seem to exist merely to fulfill Toru's sexual desires and fantasies.

He actually has sex with three-fourths of the significant female characters, and he's allegedly "so good at sex" that two of them swear they'll never have sex again.

I can't stress enough how misogynistic this is.

Why were there so many dry, uncomfortable, and unromantic sex scenes?

And why was there that one involving a 13-year-old? It was so gross and unnecessary (even if its actual occurrence is ambiguous).

Murakami is much better when he engages in magical realism, where the grotesque sex can fit into the overall aesthetic.

Instead, this was just creepy and anti-women.

Definitely a big NOPE for me!!

Mediocre "nice guys" need to stop thinking that all women exist to provide sexual favors.

Goddammit. I really wanted to hate this book. There's so much about it that I abhor, but I can't bring myself to give it less than three stars.

Sometimes, I joke with my sister that she needs to expand her character repertoire. Usually, her stories feature a nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy who's hopelessly in love with a girl, usually a manic pixie, who'll never have him. That boy spends most of his time staring at the girl, wondering if she likes another guy, complaining about how she treats him like a child, and writing voyeuristic stories on his computer about said girl.

As I read Haruki Murakami's most popular work -- Norwegian Wood and Kafka on the Shore -- I am forced to come to the conclusion that his stories are exactly like the stories that the nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy would write whenever he wasn't staring at his manic pixie. Murakami's characters wish they could be Holden Caulfield, but for them, that's a hefty aspiration. No, Murakami's protagonists -- if you can even call them protagonists -- are borderline self-inserts, almost akin to the male leads in those horrid bro-comedies, written for nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys -- and nerdy, lonely, odd men.

Before you dismiss my criticisms, let's take a moment to think about this. What female characters can you relate to in his novels? They aren't actually characters. They're meant to force our so-called protagonist through his arc, often through eye-roll worthy sex-scenes that these nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys wish they could have. And, mind you, these protagonists don't just have regular sex -- they have mind blowing sex. And they don't just have it with one girl -- they have it with multiple girls, who all praise his sexual prowess.

These girls don't develop past their base stereotypes -- stereotypes typically found in any popular manga. Like Naruto. Or Clannad. Hinata, Sakura, Ino, Ryou, Nagisa, Naoko, Midori, Reiko, whatever.

But these nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys are too pretentious for manga. Therefore, they need their literary novels, strife with plotless melodrama, navel-gazing, and lots of sex with luke-warm females.

Please don't tell me that I don't get the brilliance behind Murakami's words. I've read Salinger, Maugham, and Fitzgerald. They do it better. They don't write self-inserts for their audience. And while their female characters are occasionally woe-fully underdeveloped, they don't worship the protagonist of their respective novels. As a female, I wonder what these women see in Murakami's males. They're nothing more than the Japanese version of the manic pixie. But then I remember that these females are just kuunderes and tsunderes -- nothing I haven't seen in any slice of life manga filled with nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys who stare wistfully into the sky while cherry blossoms fall upon their silvery, wispy hair.

In fact, if you're a fan of this novel, I'd like to introduce you to Makoto Shinkai. He's a director with a style akin to Hayao Myazaki and a pen that lacks his talent. His characters stare at each other and wax emo poetry, akin to what you'd find on deviantart, in voiceover while pretty pictures float over the screen. That is how I felt while I was reading this novel. The prose is quite good, but the story, plot, and characterization fall short on every mark.

What exactly was the purpose of this novel?

Contrary to popular belief, The Catcher in the Rye has a purpose. I'm lost at the comparisons between Holden and Toru. Holden's little brother died from cancer a few years prior to the novel's opening. I think that's enough to justify his angst, considering that during that time period, his death was probably more painful than it would be in present day. If you've read the misery-porn that is My Sister's Keeper, you'll have an idea of how cancer effects fictional characters.

Toru's best friend committed suicide. I'll give his depression a pass. That's about it. His countless sexploits honestly made me want to introduce him to Anita Blake. They'd have fun together.

And yes, I know there are guys who attract multiple women and have various sexual relationships. Toru's sex life, however, was not presented in a realistic light. It was voyeuristic. I did not know why these women liked him and, more importantly, why they deemed him a sex god.

If you're wondering why so much of this review is devoted to sex -- here's the answer -- the novel is equally devoted to sex. Sex, death, loneliness, depression, and extreme oddities that even James Joyce would raise an eyebrow to.

The sheer pretentiousness of the protagonist and his friends is enough to elicit an exasperated sigh.

The better I got to know Nagasawa, the stranger he seemed. I had met a lot of weird people in my day, but none as strange as Nagasawa. He was a far more voracious reader than me, but he made it a rule never to touch a book by any author who had not been dead at least 30 years.



\\"That's the only kind of book I can trust,\\" he said.



\\"It's not that I don't believe in contemporary literature,\\" he added, \\"but I don't want to waste valuable time reading any book that has not had the baptism of time. Life is too short.\\"



\\"What kind of authors do you like?\\" I asked, speaking in respectful tones to this man two years my senior.



\\"Balzac, Dante, Joseph Conrad, Dickens,\\" he answered without hesitation.



\\"Not exactly fashionable.\\"



\\"That's why I read them. If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. That's the world of hicks and slobs. Real people would be ashamed of themselves doing that. Haven't you noticed, Watanabe? You and I are the only real ones in this dorm. The other guys are crap.\\"



This took me off guard. \\"How can you say that?\\"



\\"'Cause it's true. I know. I can see it. It's like we have marks on our foreheads. And besides, we've both read The Great Gatsby.\\"

Because of course, special snowflakes, literature is only good if you deem it worthy, and if someone doesn't like what you like they're a hick or a slob. Please, jump thirty years into the future and become acquainted with your indie-than-thou hipster counterparts. They enjoy sipping coffee at bistros while they twirl their thriftstore eco-friendly scarves and discus the plights of starving African children while they listen to The Smiths, watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (and complain about the American adaptation of Open Your Eyes -- Vanilla Sky), while they read pretentious novels such as this to feel like they're superior to their peers. They probably jerk off to their liberal arts degrees at night while they fantasize about Charlie Kaufman.

It doesn't surprise me that this novel was popular amongst teens and young adults. Here, they have a lackluster Holden Caulfield to look up to. One who never realizes that, he too, is a \\"phony\\". We get the occasional dismissal of Nagasawa's ways, but they come late and are rather pathetic. Our passive protagonist does nothing but watch his so-called friend destroy his girlfriend bit by bit. He comforts her, offers her advice, but never tells Nagasawa off.

As I read through the scenes with Nagasawa, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. And, of course, this special Gary Stu -- who reads American literature, has a huge penis, can hook up with any girl, charm anyone, get anything he wants, who's rich, who's bound for success, who's one of the best students in their university, has a nice, intelligent, steady girlfriend, and claims to have slept with seventy girls -- chooses Toru as his friend. Wish fulfillment anyone?

As for Toru's sexual relationship with Naoko? He took advantage of her. This could be considered rape. She was not emotionally sound. She could not give consent. Would Toru have had sex with her if she was drunk and he was sober? Knowing him, probably so. And he'd have some artistic, pretentious excuse. But here's Toru's take on it:

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.

Because, of course, when a girl is crying over her dead ex-boyfriend, you just have to have sex with her. It's the only thing that'll make her feel better. And, of course, she's a virgin. And, of course, she has an orgasm because Toru is just that good.

What I don't understand is his hypocritical attitude towards sex. Doesn't he realize that he's just like the girls he has random one night stands with? He's no better than they are, but he describes them with such disdain, as if by being male, he's better than they are for wanting meaningless sex, but dirty for being with them. Later on in the novel, he regrets his attitude towards sex -- for two paragraphs. And that's only for his six month girlfriend. The other eight girls are \\"stupid\\" girls for whatever reason.

I'm also lost at Murakami's portrayal of sex for females. It's like he thinks women don't enjoy sex or masturbation unless they're having sex with a man. The girls give Toru hand jobs and blow jobs, while he gives nothing in return. And if he is \\"giving\\" it's when he's having sex with a girl who needs \\"release\\". From his mouth:

\\"It includes every man on the face of the earth,\\" I explained. \\"Girls have periods and boys wank. Everybody.\\"

Midori is something of a nymphomaniac, but when she actually gets into bed with Toru, she ends up giving him a hand job. What does he do for her? If you guessed nothing, you're right.

As hardly anything happens during the course of this novel, it would be pointless to comment on the pacing, but as I anticipated the introduction of Midori (who was nothing more than the standard manic pixie dream girl, down to an actual pixie cut, but still more entertaining than Toru and Naoko) I was rather disappointed to find that I had to slog through 60 pages before she made an appearance. This is why I hate passive protagonists (by the way, that's an oxymoron). They do nothing but sit on their pompous little asses and sip whiskey while they read John Updike, comment on their lost loves, gaze out their windows, write achingly emo love letters, and dream of dropping out of college because everything is just so beneath them.

Now, what did I like about this novel? Toru's interactions with Midori. His conversations with her are what kept my interest. They were beautifully written and gave Toru a spark of personality. But even they didn't give this book meaning. A few romantic scenes with fireflies, beer, kissing, and conversations about death won't save a novel. For me, this was like the anti-thesis of Looking for Alaska or The Catcher in the Rye. There was little humor, little focus, and few dynamic characters.

Naoko and Reiko didn't feel like real character. They felt like what a male wanted a female to be like. I suppose my greatest disappointment was that I was expected something profound, because I loved the premise and few sections, but the rest fell flat. It felt unreal, like a fantasy a nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy would've conjured up for himself. Especially Naoko's commitment to Kizuki. And Reiko, like almost every female in this novel, had to have a sexual relationship with Toru, though she's old enough to be his mother and acts like an older sister. And, of course, it's the greatest sex of her life. Best of all? Murakami describes it all in pornographic detail. Almost all of the sex scenes are ridiculously gratuitous, but Murakami would have us believe that they're for \\"release\\".

The blurb tells readers that this is a novel about moving on from grief. The problem is that there are no attempts to move on. The characters languish in their grief, roaming blindly in their pretentiousness, and fizzle out towards the end. Outside forces act on them, but they do nothing.

I want to know what the purpose of this novel was. While the description was nice, the dialog was rather on the nose. The characters say everything they feel at any given moment. I won't even start on Toru's thoughts. I like the premise. I like forbidden love. I like love triangles, depressed girls, and tsunderes. I do not like 350 pages of pointless angst, sex, weirdness, and quaint descriptive prose. For me, this was the equivalent of Twilight without the vampires and with a male narrator. It has its moments, but as a whole, it's an odd, painful experience. There's so much good in this novel, but it's buried underneath unnecessary prose and an odd chauvinistic tone.

I'd only recommend this novel if you're ready to roll your eyes at various moments. Toru's moments with Midori and her father are sweet. They bring out an interesting side to his character. His moments with Reiko were interesting and his moments with Naoko held potential. In the end, he goes through a small change. But it's not enough for me to give this a full four stars.

3.5 stars. I will, however, check out the movie. The poster is pretty beautiful as well as the trailer but, like the premise, it's probably a lie. If you want a modern coming of age story named after a classic rock song check out Into the Great Wide Open by Kevin Canty. It lacks a love triangle, but it's much, much better.

I just want to find a way to unread this book.

Sometimes, after reading a book, I have this strange desire to go back and experience it as if I've never read it before.

It's like I want to wipe away the memories of the story and the emotions it evoked, and start fresh.

Maybe it's because I loved the book so much that I want to relive that initial excitement and anticipation.

Or perhaps there are parts of the book that I didn't fully understand the first time around, and I want to give it another chance.

But finding a way to unread a book seems almost impossible.

Once the words have entered our minds and left their mark, it's difficult to erase them completely.

Nevertheless, I continue to search for that elusive method, hoping that one day, I'll be able to open the pages of this book and feel like it's brand new.

One of my friends wrote in a book review:

"I loved this book so much that I want to cry." And since a man doesn't cry to digest his sadness, he takes a step. I want to go and take a step too.

The story starts from a point where the main character of the story, who is also the narrator, listens to a song and it makes the memories of eighteen years ago come back to him and he starts to describe his own story in his adolescence and youth. The story is full of the description of people's relationships with details and is like a biography described with the themes of self-destruction, love and sex.

If along with the book, the English version is also at hand and you check and read the censored parts, it will help you to better understand the story because there is a lot of censorship and the censored events in the story have a significant impact.

P.S: What's the feeling after reading the book? Sadness and loneliness.

This Story is, on one side, a tale of misadventure and a melancholic exploration of adolescent love. It delves deep into the complex emotions and experiences of the characters during their formative years.

On the other side, it is a thought-provoking and poignant study of memory, morality, and mortality. Murakami's writing is always rich with poetry, and almost every line seems to hold symbolic possibility. It truly leaves a lasting impression.

The main protagonist takes us back to the 1960s, sharing his youthful escapades with his peers. The adventures are intense and steamy, so it comes with an adult warning. The story is set in the vibrant city of Tokyo and also shifts to a relaxed mountainous retreat, adding variety to the setting.

One cannot help but fall in love with the characters that Murakami creates. His ability to bring them to life is remarkable, just as it was in his other novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. It is truly mesmerizing to think that his works, originally written in Japanese and translated into English, still maintain their poetic and deeply thought-provoking quality.

This story is not just a simple love story. It is more about the lived experiences of the characters, where his other novels often have tones of the supernatural and incorporate mind games. The book title, as you may be wondering, is taken from a Beatles track, 'Norwegian Wood', which is one of the novel's characters' favorite songs.

There is a movie adapted from this book that is definitely worth checking out. It was what gave me the incentive to read this book in April instead of 'Kafka on the Shore', which I was more eager to read before. Thanks to the movie release, I discovered an excellent story of love and loss.

Considering I used the same procedure of 'reading the book and then watching the movie' with a few other novels and was disappointed with some, like 'Let the right one in', 'Girl who played with fire', 'Never let me go', and 'Rosemary's baby', there is still hope for watching the movie adaptations of these titles. Now, I just need to find the time to watch these movies.

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Review also here on my webpage