Reading Murakami in Berlin
Something keeps pulling me back to him!
I’m not here to review or criticize Murakami’s work! Because I am incapable of doing so. I just want to rant about how much I admire his work and the universe he creates for me.
I remember my first Murakami encounter so vividly that I can practically recreate the scene in my head. I found his art for the first time when sitting alone in a little Berlin room with a song playing on the stereo. Even though it was unfamiliar to me, I could see myself being drawn to it.
I knew who he was, but I never picked up any of his writings for some reason. I was elevated to read his work after receiving 1Q84 (trilogy) as a secret Santa gift. I had no idea that I would become immersed in the universe he had built and conduct a thorough investigation of the pop culture references he had made.
I never returned to his work after that, as it often does in life. I was too preoccupied with other writers or had no time to read at all. But then I saw the movie “Burning”. The movie is a game-changer in Korean cinema and I’d have to write a full piece just to nerd out over it.
However, I couldn’t get my mind off the notion that this mystical narrative was a creation of Murakami’s imagination. Is it possible that I only saw the movie because it was based on his work? I looked up the book on Goodreads and Wikipedia. Added it to my shopping basket as well!
But I never bought it. And I asked myself this every day, why? Why did I do that? Even after questioning myself consciously, I never bought it!
Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt.
A few weeks ago, I had only one plan in mind for the weekend. On Saturday evening, I planned to stay at home and watch “Drive my Car”. Apart from the positive reviews and ratings, I was interested in seeing the film because it was based on his work.
I stared at the black screen for a while after I finished the movie. A thought ran over my mind again and again.
Why do I find myself so drawn to his stories? Do I believe I’m a character in this story? Just sitting there passively watching the main characters do what Murakami wants them to do?
Do the sorrows he brings out resonate inside of me? Why did I never read more of his work? Am I that afraid of the unknown? Knowing what his imagination does for me?
Then it occurred to me that I had informed my best friend about 1Q84 while reading it. His response to that was “Oh great! I love Murakami! Norwegian Wood is my all-time favorite novel”!
Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern.
And so I thought, there it is. I always wanted to read Norwegian Wood. I trust my friend to have an amazing ‘taste’ in life and I tend to look up to him.
I am on my 294th page of Norwegian Wood right now. This may be an exaggeration, but I’ve never felt so connected to a character or felt so immersed in a novel, or read 200 pages in a few hours.
I’m not sure why I’m so taken with his work. Millions of other individuals, no doubt, feel the same way about his work. But I do not want to dissect it this time. I want to enjoy what he has to offer me.
When I’m sipping my tea and reading Murakami-San, I despise the outer world’s intrusion. Turning pages after pages but still trying to etch in my memory what he wrote six pages ago!
After finishing Norwegian Wood, I’ve already decided to read ‘A wild sheep chase’ and ‘Kafka on the Shore’. I am also ready to watch the movie to see how his work (Norwegian Wood) was translated into cinema. Because this time I’m going to tumble into the hole he’s dug for me!
Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I’m made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.
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