Hot takes: Murakami

Haruki Murakami has become a household name. Often seen as the frontrunner of Japanese literature in the West, he has also become an increasingly divisive author. Despite criticism regarding his presentation of women, and repetitiveness or banality in his oeuvre, Murakami still emerges as a widely read, well-enjoyed novelist. So why do people love (or hate) his work?

Anonymous

When I first read Kafka on the Shore, I hated it. I hated the gore descriptions about dead cats and their hearts, the unsettling sexual themes, the bizarre twists that came across every new page. That, however, lasted only a few pages. Halfway through the book, I was being roped into a world of metaphysical gateways, labyrinths, and dream-like states where anything was possible. That’s what made it so special. No film or play could capture the essence of the story like Murakami did. To think of it, reading Murakami is like watching a dream unfold. You won’t remember the events clearly, they might not even make sense at the time, but they leave you altered forever.

Tarun Nair, Chief Copyeditor

I read Norwegian Wood as a teenager, and inevitably (and intensely) identified with Toru Watanabe as an introverted loner looking for love. I saw it as a book about goodbyes: people flit in and out of Watanabe’s life like fireflies, never to be seen again. As banal as this might be, it still feels incredibly tragic to me

Mo Majlisi, Editor-at-Large

Murakami is the definition of middle brow. I dislike him because what little I have read of him was, quite bluntly, basic. I suspect that he is a bit like The Count of Monte Cristo: a signalling device for uninspired, insipid Gen Zs to say they read, without any sense of actual curiosity and love of reading. If he was good, I would have expected better discourse, but it’s clear that his books are just there to look hip and cool. Japanese literature has some really good contemporaries, and Murakami is undeserved of the fame and status he has received. Slopfest.

Aditi Mehta, Books Editor; Deputy Editor-in-Chief

The first time I came across sex in a novel was in a Murakami novel. Printed, explicit, glaring at me, it was sort of an “aha” moment: it revealed my first glimpse of adulthood. I finally seemed to understand what grown ups might read about too; books became more sacred because nothing was taboo.