Life@55 & Norwegian Wood

Norwegian Wood ノルウェイの森

By Haruki Murakami

I still remember the quiet buzz surrounding Norwegian Wood during my high school years. Back then, I wasn’t ready for it—not mature enough to grasp the subtleties of its prose or the depths of its emotion. At that time, it seemed like just another book people talked about, and I wasn’t yet the kind of person who was drawn to stories like this. But as the years went by, something shifted. Life happened. And somewhere along the way, my curiosity about Murakami’s novel rekindled, almost as if the book itself had been waiting for me to catch up to it.

I can’t pinpoint the exact year I first read it, though it must have been over two decades ago—a small reminder of how quickly time moves, of how memory softens its edges until dates blur into feelings. But recently, amid a midlife slump—feeling creatively stagnant, searching for something to reignite inspiration—I found myself reaching for Norwegian Wood once more. This time, I decided to experience it differently: through the audiobook.

Listening to Norwegian Wood was like entering a dreamscape. The narrator’s voice didn’t just tell the story; it carried me into it, as though guiding me through mist-covered memories that weren’t quite mine but somehow felt familiar. Each word seemed to flow like a wave, and I let myself drift deeper into the emotional current of the characters’ lives.

Murakami’s prose, lyrical and introspective on the page, takes on an entirely new dimension when heard aloud. There’s something about the rhythm of his sentences when spoken—how they rise and fall, linger and dissolve—that brings out storytelling nuances I hadn’t noticed before. With the audiobook, Norwegian Wood becomes not just a story but an experience, a melody that seeps into the spaces of your day. The background music enhances the atmosphere without overwhelming it, giving the narrative an almost cinematic quality.

For me, this was more than just revisiting a beloved novel. It was about surrendering to the rhythm of the authors words, allowing myself to be enveloped by the timeless beauty of his prose in a way I hadn’t felt before. Listening to this story—one that so delicately explores love, loss, longing, and the quiet ache of growing older—was a fresh and unexpected reminder of why Murakami remains one of the authors closest to my heart.

Experiencing Norwegian Wood as an audiobook was inspiring. It reminded me that stories are not static—they change as we do. The story I met in my younger years isn’t the same story I encountered this time around. And perhaps that’s the magic of great literature: it grows with you, and if you let it, it can offer something new, even decades later.

So, to anyone who hasn’t yet experienced Murakami—or to those who, like me, feel drawn to revisit him—let yourself surrender to his words. Whether you read them on the page or let them wash over you through sound, there’s something transformative waiting there. And yes, you can drive my car—a playful nod to Murakami’s world, where music and stories blend together, much like the novel’s connection to The Beatles’ song.

Image courtesy of Murakami’s website 

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