But I do like Murakami’s choice of title.

The book cover isn’t anything to write about, though I do like how the shadows run parallel to each other instead of intersecting. However, I am unsure if it was the right decision to make because my feelings for this book have remained mixed for a long time, and I can’t see it changing anytime soon. However, my literary club recommended this book for a discussion date, so I had to read it. Gotta be honest, I never heard of Haruki Murakami before.

Trigger Warnings: Death, suicide, trauma, mental health.īook Review of Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami Set in the 1960s-1970s period during the students’ movement, Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami deals with the darker themes about grief and traumas, while following Toru with his coming-of-age love story. As Naoko delves deeper into depression and retreats further within herself, Toru starts to form a bond with the outgoing and lively Midori Kobayashi. However, their relationship is shadowed by the reminiscent of their other friend’s (Naoko’s ex-boyfriend) suicide years ago. He gradually develops feelings for his friend Naoko. Toru Watanabe is an average Tokyo college student who isn’t sure about his life’s direction. That's what this storm's all about.Genre: Cultural, Romance, Contemporary, Adult When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in.

You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.Īnd once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.Īnd you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.

Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. “Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions.

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