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I've always been a big fan of Haruki Murakami. So much so that I've read almost everything he's written. I remember the first time I flew overseas on a Boeing 747; instead of being excited about traveling, I was thinking about the Boeing 747 that landed at Hamburg Airport on a rainy day at the beginning of Norwegian Wood. I finally got to experience the same plane that Watanabe did.

Reading Murakami has accompanied me since university, a time when I am half dreaming and half waking up to the world. Whether I like it or not, his books have influenced me to some extent. Looking back, the plot of his books has intertwined with my life, and the act of reading Murakami itself has become part of my memories and life.

However, in recent years, when reading his new books (particularly published after 2000), the intense excitement has diminished, and I've felt more and more awkward.

To be precise, starting with this one Sputnik Sweetheart, I felt Murakami has been like a chef reheating old dishes. The same ingredients, just rearranged, and a new dish is supposedly created. The main ingredients include:

Male lead: Claims to be an ordinary person, not caring much about anything, but has a taste for music and reading (jazz, classical, literary books), exercises, is hygienic, and prefers simplicity in clothing and food (there are scenes of ironing shirts and cooking pasta), not wealthy but not short of money, dislikes socializing but has good luck with women (they always come to him, and he can't seem to escape).

Female lead: Not the kind of beauty that is immediately apparent, but always hides a captivating beauty somewhere, such as having devastatingly beautiful ears. Her chest cannot be large and must show a cute shape through thin clothes. As for her personality, in addition to being gentle or cute, she must have some deep-seated but inexplicable problems, and the ending is often suicide or a mysterious disappearance.

Plot: The real world, the world beyond reality, inexplicable evil, historical sins, searching, losing, waiting.

Props: Various artistic and middle-class symbols, such as Perrier water, salmon, whiskey, Beatles records, books, coffee, Godard's films, BMW cars, Greek islands, two daughters...

I don’t know but I really have a strong feeling that this novel is just a rearrangement of these ingredients. Compared to his previous works, even the techniques of permutation and combination are a bit lacking. I read this book in mandarin, and I didn't like it, and this time I read the English version. Without Lin Shaohua's unique tone, it was easier to be distracted, and the shortcomings were more exposed. Allow me to rant about a few passages:

When the male lead and Sumire first met:

"I was at the bus stop in front of the main gate of the college, standing there reading a Paul Nizan novel I’d found in a used-book store. A short girl beside me leaned over, took a look at the book, and asked me, Why Nizan, of all people?"

Why do I often get rolled my eyes at but never get hit on when I walk around reading literary fiction? The male leads in Murakami's novels would never take the initiative; all the girls actively approach them. How many introverted, nerdy guys has this ruined? Also, why Paul Nizan? Marxism?

After a while, Sumire finally leaned against the male lead's shoulder (again, let me point out that it was the woman who took the initiative). Let's look at the male lead's perspective:

"Sumire rested her head on my shoulder. Her hair was held back by a hair clip, and I could see her small, nicely formed ears. Ears so pretty you’d think they had just been created. Soft, easily injured ears. I could feel her breath on my skin. She had on a pair of short pink pants and a faded, plain navy-blue T-shirt. The outline of her small nipples showed through the shirt. There was a faint odor of sweat. Her sweat and mine, the two odors subtly mixed."

Ears, small breasts, Murakami trapped in adolescence, can't seem to look away from these. Plus, the male lead are well into their 20s, no longer teenagers. The sweat of adult men and women, besides smelling bad, I can't think of any other way to subtly mix it.

Unfortunately, Sumire doesn't like the male lead. She's into women. Sumire admires her female superior, Miu. When she sees Miu in the restaurant:

"Miu was already there, sipping an iced Perrier, deep in conversation with the waiter concerning the menu."

Is Perrier so high and mighty that it still deserves to be named and sipped when it's on sale at Costco, the birthplace of North American literary trauma? And why does ordering a simple meal have to turn into a deep conversation?

"Miu ordered the same thing for both of them. The entrée was a light grilled fish with a touch of green sauce with mushrooms. The slice of fish were done to perfection - browned in an almost artistic way that you knew was just right. Pumpkin gnocchi and a delicate endive salad rounded out the meal. For dessert they had the crème brûlée, which only Summer ate. Miu didn’t touch it. Finally, they had espresso. Sumire observed that Miu took great care about what she ate."

Wow, Japanese really know how to turn everything into an art. Even grilling a fish, they can make it look artistic, perfect, and just right. But what does describing food in such detail have to do with the plot or character development? Does the fact that Miu didn't eat creme brulee mean she's healthy and refined? Why is eating a meal so complicated?

Sumire mysteriously disappears on a Greek island, and Miu asks the male lead to fly to the Greek island immediately. With the Sumire's life hanging in the balance, the male lead, as a good friend, immediately packs his bags and takes the earliest flight to Greece, which can be considered a righteous act. However, on the plane, the male lead is able to not worry about Sumire and insists on concentrating on reading Conrad's novel. No matter the circumstances, the concern he expresses seems to boomerang back to himself. What a narcissistic male protagonist, living in his own world.

"I didn’t have much of an appetite, and skipped breakfast. I wanted to keep my mind a blank, so when I was awake I concentrated on reading Conrad."

He bought a book about Greece at the airport because he admitted to knowing almost nothing about Greece and had never considered going there.

However, when he set foot on this nameless little island, he could evaluate the island's terrain like a knowledgeable expert, as if he had been to many Greek islands. It feels like Murakami just put his familiar ingredients here a little and there a little, but he doesn't realize the flavors clash.

I really found the 18-page long section detailing the male lead's flight to Greece (primarily focusing on airport experiences, in-flight scenes, and ferry life) to be rather superfluous. In a novel of less than 230 pages, this extended travelogue seems to contribute little to the overall plot or character development.

At the end of the story, the male lead returns to reality and continues his job as a teacher. One of his students is caught stealing and he goes to pick up the child. The following is a description of the child. Similar to the typical verbose style of Murakami, this description of the child feels convoluted, increasingly vague, and increasingly dark. Even after such a long passage, it remains unclear what kind of child this is.

"We exchanged a quick glance, and I turned to her son. His name was Shin’ichi Nimura, but his classmates had nicknamed him Carrot. With his long, thin face and his shock of unkempt, curly hair, the name fit. I usually called him that, too. He was a quiet boy, hardly ever speaking more than was necessary. His grades weren’t bad; he rarely forgot to bring his homework and never failed to do his share of the cleaning up. Never got into trouble. But he lacked initiative and never once raised his hand in class. Carrot’s classmates didn’t dislike him, but he wasn’t what you’d call popular. This didn’t please his mother much, but from my point of view he was a good kid."

See? It's a story out of reach, a tale that has faded, a narrative pitting this world against another, and a recurring theme in Murakami's works.

I wonder if my tastes have shifted, or if Murakami's style has developed over time.

2.5 / 5 stars

My other reviews of Murakami's Work:
The City and Its Uncertain Walls
Norwegian Wood
1Q84
Hear the Wind Sing
Kafka on the Shore
Sputnik Sweetheart
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
South of the Border, West of the Sun
After Dark