Why I Hated Every Bit of Norwegian Wood

The first—and last—book I read by Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood, could have been a beautiful story. In a way, it actually is a story with beauty within it. But for me, it became the novel that ended Murakami as an author, the one that made me vow never to pick up any of his books again, and prevented me from experiencing any emotional catharsis.

Toru Watanabe's love for Naoko, Naoko's depression following her relationship with her late boyfriend, and Midori's boldness and unique character—all of this could have been written in a much more beautiful way. I must admit, the beginning of the book drew me into the story quite deeply. Toru's narration, his descriptions of the events around him, and his taste in music made the novel engaging and readable for me at first.

However, as the story progressed, the way every emotional event, or even just a conversation, would suddenly turn to sex—especially in moments where such a turn felt unrelated or even impossible—left me with a bewildered expression while reading. It also made me start thinking that there might be something off about Murakami.

I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Murakami’s portrayals of women and the way he writes about them have been criticized by readers and critics alike, often seen as problematic. He tends to depict women as objects, and even though I’ve only read one of his books, it doesn’t change the fact that the female characters seem to exist solely to fulfill the main character’s sexual needs.

The abrupt transition in the novel when, after a moment of silence and a conversation about life between Midori and Toru, Midori suddenly expresses her sexual desire for Toru and feels completely out of place. Honestly, the constant pivot to sexuality, along with the lack of any real conversations or thoughts beyond it, deeply disturbed me. There was an emotional core to the story, and Murakami’s failure to explore it frustrated me, even making me question his mental state. And, of course, the fact that he presents women exclusively through the male characters' perspectives doesn’t help. Beyond that, there are quite a few sexist dialogues and events in the novel. Since it’s set in Japan—specifically in 1960s Japan—you might find it somewhat understandable. Still, I know for certain I’ll never pick up another Murakami book again.

The movie isn’t any different. Strangely, it even includes more sexual conversations and scenes than the book.

If I were to rate this book, I’d give it a 2 or 3 out of 5, and that’s solely because of the one thing Murakami is good at besides writing: his taste in music. Apart from the singers and songs mentioned in the book, there wasn’t anything I could appreciate.

Finally, I can’t help but say that I was glad he didn’t win the Nobel Prize in Literature this year—and that it went to a female author instead.