The wind-up bird chronicle

by Haruki Murakami

Paper Book, 1997

Status

Available

Publication

New York : Vintage International, 1998

Description

Having quit his job, Toru Okada is enjoying a pleasant stint as a "house husband", listening to music and arranging the dry cleaning and doing the cooking - until his cat goes missing, his wife becomes distant and begins acting strangely, and he starts meeting enigmatic people with fantastic life stories. They involve him in a world of psychics, shared dreams, out-of-body experiences, and shaman-like powers, and tell him stories from Japan's war in Manchuria, about espionage on the border with Mongolia, the battle of Nomonhan, the killing of the animals in Hsin-ching's zoo, and the fate of Japanese prisoners-of-war in the Soviet camps in Siberia.

Media reviews

By the book's midway point, the novelist-juggler has tossed so many balls into the air that he inevitably misses a few on the way down. Visionary artists aren't always neat: who reads Kafka for his tight construction? In ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and one that would have lost a great deal by being tidied up.
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Mr. Murakami seems to have tried to write a book with the esthetic heft and vision of, say, Don DeLillo's ''Underworld'' or Salman Rushdie's ''The Moor's Last Sigh,'' he is only intermittently successful. ''Wind-Up Bird'' has some powerful scenes of antic comedy and some shattering scenes of historical power, but such moments do not add up to a satisfying, fully fashioned novel. In trying to depict a fragmented, chaotic and ultimately unknowable world, Mr. Murakami has written a fragmentary and chaotic book.

User reviews

LibraryThing member ChocolateMuse
Fate itself was the doctor's own fatal disease.

Fate looms over this book as a vast, unseen, but ever-present character, neither good nor evil, but simply there; implacable and all-powerful. Fate and destiny are part of what this book is about, but there's far more to it than that. I'm quite sure I've hardly begun to grasp the depth and breadth of ideas and interconnections Murakami has put into this incredible novel.

It's also a book about brutality, war, and different kinds of pain. If I had read that before picking up the book, it may have made me decide not to read it, but believe me, that would have been a big mistake. Yes, there are horrible scenes in this book, and one in particular that I took a while to recover from. But somehow,these scenes seem important, and anything but gratuitous. These things are wrapped up with genuine history - a mixture of things that really did happen, and things that could have happened - which latter are just as important, and after reading Murakami, one somehow feels they are just as real. It's frightening, like an insight into the actual reality of humankind and the evil things people, real people, are capable of doing - even today, now, in this real world.

It's also a book that seems to question reality, until the reader starts to feel that reality is malleable, intangible, and maybe even not all that important. And it's about the nature of life and death, and about how the line between the two might be more blurred than they seem.

Now I'm not saying any of these things the book explores are true, or real, or anything in particular, but reading this book makes things look different, and makes the world itself feel like a different place, at least while reading it. This book is nothing if not an interesting experience.

I would like to add that it is also about characters - people who are vulnerable, human, likeable and complex. And with all the themes and ideas that make this book so amazing, there's no lack of story in it. It's a detective story, a love story, a war story, and a metaphysical journey.

If I wrote a million words on this book, it would still leave too many things unsaid, and I have too many gaps in my own understanding to do it justice. In brief, I recommend it!
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LibraryThing member Miss-Owl
It's been a really long time since a book captivated me so much I grew impatient with real life. With a two-hour train trip coming up, I found myself actually looking forward to it, simply so that I could sit motionlessly and guiltlessly and devour the rest of Murakami's fabulous world. This was definitely one of those books that I was sorry to see end.

What is it about these diffident, slightly hapless, determinedly directionless narrators? Someone like Strethers from James' The Ambassadors, or Fitzgerald's Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby) really sucks me in. Toru Okada, a thirty-year old unemployed legal assistant, is the opposite of the stereotypical salaryman; his only dilemma is how to fill in the hours stretching endlessly before him each day: should he cook spaghetti bolognaise? read a book? go shopping? Instead, it's his wife, Kumiko, who is the breadwinner, and the obligatory pants-wearer, ringing him up to delegate tasks to him which only rival each other in mundanity: pick up the laundry, buy the toilet paper, find the cat.

Then the mystery begins - and once it begins, it multiplies and folds in upon itself. An anonymous woman rings the house, who insists not only that Toru knows her well - "Ten minutes, please. That's all we need to understand each other" - but that Toru know her very well: "Try picturing me. From my voice. Imagine what I'm like. Where I am. How I'm dressed."

Toru has scarcely any time to work this one out before Kumiko sends him in pursuit of their missing cat, Notoru Wataya, a feline saddled with the appallingly weighty name of Kumiko's brother-in-law, a Machiavellian politician rising through the ranks. To find the cat, Toru leaps into the blocked-off alley behind their house, where he meets the mercurial May Kasahara, an enigmatic sixteen-year old with a pronounced limp and a two-inch scar on her cheek. May cheerfully assumes command over the somewhat apathetic Toru, dubbing him "Mr Wind-up Bird", after the particular bird-call he hears echo in the neighbourhood, a call which sounds like the springs of the world are being wound up: "Every day it would come to the stand of trees in our neighbourhood and wind the spring of our quiet little world."

Springs in a mechanical sense - for much of the novel concerns the idea of life and fate; life as a great machine, which some hidden higher power is preparing - but for what? But springs also work in the geographical sense, for the flow of water is integral to the plot of the book, drawing together the dry well Toru finds in an abandoned house backing on to the blocked-off alleyway; the warnings of their mystical family friend, Mr Honda; the religious austerities of clairvoyant Malta Kano whom Kumiko employs to find their cat. And then Kumiko herself goes missing.

Toru's search for Kumiko will take him deep into the historical depths of Manchukuo, the ill-fated Japanese settlement at the heart of Mainland China; into a dreamlike world where the women in his life endlessly segue into another; into utter darkness at the bottom of a dried-up well; and ultimately, most irrevocably, into the mysterious, pitch-black Room 208. Through all of this reverberates the call of the wind-up bird.

Murakami traverses a dazzling array of landscapes in his sprawling novel. His world is rich and resonant with the stories of many characters - and I haven't even managed to yet find a place for Cinnamon and Nutmeg Asakasa, whose spiritual powers will be of huge influence on Toru. Here the reader will find, labyrinthine and Pynchon-like, a troubling range of echoes and references gathering momentum into an increasingly claustrophobic world. In the end, the mysteries can only be solved by coming to grips with the obscure figure of Noboru Wataya (the man, not the cat) and the ineluctable pull towards Room 208 where Toru keeps returning in trance: here he will confront an unknown assailant in a confrontation that will enmesh them all.

Transformation is at the heart of what I admire most about Murakami - from the quiet, almost innocuous way he is able to take his protagonist from cooking spaghetti and ironing shirts to the brutalities of the Sino-Russian border in WWII and the metaphysical depths of the dried-up well. He is entirely equal both to the expression of the mundane to the expression of the ineffable. Here is Toru trying to rationalise his antagonism towards his brother-in-law Noboru Wataya:

It was like a persistent low-grade fever. I never had a television in the house, but by some uncanny coincidence, whenever I glanced at a TV somewhere, he would be on it, making some pronouncement. If I flipped through the pages of a magazine in a doctor's waiting room, there would be a picture of Noboru Wataya, with an article he had written. I felt as if Noboru Wataya were lying in wait for me just around every corner in the known world.
OK, let's face it. I hated the guy.

Now here's Toru, sitting in self-imposed exile at the bottom of the well:

It felt extremely strange not to be able to see my own body with my own eyes, though I knew it must be there. Staying very still in the darkness, I became less and less convinced of the fact that I actually existed. To cope with that, I woould clear my throat now and then, or run my hand over my face. That way, my ears could check on the existnece of my voice, my hand could check on the existence of my face, and my face could check on the existence of my hand.
Despite these efforts, my body began to lose its density and weight, the sand gradually being washed away by flowing water. I felt as if a fierce and wordless tug-of-war were going on inside me, a contest in which my mind was slowly dragging my body into its own territory. The darkness was disrupting the proper balance between the two. The thought struck me that my own body was a mere provisional husk that had been prepared for my mind by a rearrangement of the signs known as chromosomes. If the signs were rearraned yet again, I would find myself inside a wholly different body than before. "Prostitute of the mind"...

And, for powerful writing, don't even get me started on Boris and his Mongolian. I think I'll remember that scene for life.

One word of warning, though. If you're looking for a story that makes sense, this isn't it. A lot of riddles are solved along the way but, if the postmodernists will allow my borrowing of the phrase, all we end up with is a chain of signifiers attached to nothing but themselves. But dissatisfied? Hardly. Dive into this book, be pulled into the mystery of all these missing things and finally resurface with a rich meditation on the enigma of identity and the notion of the true self, of historical inevitability and the possibililty of personal transformation.

And listen to the winding of the springs.
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LibraryThing member RebeccaAnn
I'm going to put a disclaimer right at the top of this review: I don't think I comprehended half of what was in this book. Everything from here on out is based on what I know (or what I think I know).

This book was amazing. What begins as a silly mystery to find a pet cat evolves into a tale of love, devotion, betrayal, hurt, comfort, life, death, desperation, hope, good and evil. It took me a good five months to work my way completely through this book because at so many points, I would have to stop and reread a section again. Normally, this would piss me off but for Murakimi, I didn't mind. I loved going back and making new connections or witnessing new themes. With the introduction of each new character, a new layer of mystery shrouds the story but at the same time, a veil is lifted and answers are discovered.

Murakami's prose is brilliant as well. He somehow manages to stay oddly distant from his characters yet also incredibly intimate. For example, the reader only knows May Kasahara through Toru. They interact a lot in the beginning of the book and then we are privy to her letters near the end. Even though we don't know much about her, a sense of loneliness and a strong desire for friendship just radiates off of her and I felt like I connected with more than any other character in the book. I don't know much about her, but I finished the book considering her a friend.

I don't know what really happened in the book. Murakami twists reality and makes everything a dream. Through Toru we experience fantastic and horrifying things that may or may not have happened. Some things made sense, like Kumiko's adultery. Other things, like psychic prostitution, did not. I can't tell if the book is magical realism or if we're also experiencing Toru's imagination along with the actual events of the story. All I know is I loved this book and I have every intention of making this one a regular reread and devouring as much Murakami as I can get my hands on.
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LibraryThing member Dalan
If you like your surrealism in the old style, ponderous and meandering, this book is for you. Working in the tradition of the sixties’ European Nouveau Roman and art-house cinema, Murakami doesn’t have to worry too much about his characters, though the protagonist’s ordinariness is engaging and convincing enough before being intruded upon by various increasingly predictable oddities of time, space and consciousness. Is it a dream? Is there a supersensible reality? Is it the auteur playing wink and a nod with his savvy fan base? Who cares. Stay down the well Mr. Wind Up Bird.

This saggy novel carries a number of imaginations of episodes from the Japanese occupation of Manchuria in the 30’s and 40’s. These are terrific reading mostly. Two such chapters appeared as excerpts in the New Yorker magazine. Find the back copies rather than read the tome is this reader’s advice –and [Nomohan: Japan Against Russia, 1939], by [Alvin D. Coox], cited by Murakami as a source, might well be of real interest.
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LibraryThing member joyharmon
I fell in love with Murakami's writing after I read this book. I had never read anything to compare to it. What would you do if your life suddenly stopped and strange things started happening?

I would later learn that all of his work involves a strange events happening to an ordinary man. There is usually a mysterious woman and other symbols that hint at what is happening to the psyche of the main character. But the real story is about an inner journey that we need to take but usually avoid until something strange forces us to deal with it.… (more)
LibraryThing member Bookmarque
Sometimes I take a gamble with my reading and go off the reservation. Sometimes it’s great (The Human Stain) sometimes it’s not and this is a NOT. The Wind Up Bird Chronicle is the worst book I’ve read all year. Let this be a lesson to me; I am literal and DO NOT appreciate fantastical stories so separated from reality. Next time I try out something so far off my mark I will remember the torture of this stupid book. No, I am not unimaginative, but neither do I live in a fantasy world which clearly, you need to have some familiarity with before you can enjoy this as an adult. I am ashamed to have fallen for it. Pretentious is too kind a word.

Such a nonsensical and non-cohesive plot; as if the author had a bunch of ideas and no clue how to put them together. Oh wait, I’ll try forced allegory and wrangle every last literary theme on earth into one book. Yeah. That’ll work. I’m a Certified Genius. Ugh. At least he realized that the violent and degrading war story couldn't be presented as a whole without making the reader suicidal. Still, the rest of the story is inane.

Here are my notes as I dragged myself through this story. Yes, I had a martyr complex and actually got through the whole unbelievably idiotic thing.

Why refer to the cat as IT all the time...clearly it's a male. Weird.

The radio or boombox type thing the girl has, translated as a music machine. Later she has a radio. Odd.

Why are all the female characters intensely annoying?

All these visceral gyrations from Creta are unbearably awful. Who writes this crap? It's supposed to be shocking, exposing and hedonistic, but it's just stupid. I skipped over most of it.

The Japanese habit of calling people by first and last names is at first charming, then, after a while, grates on my nerves something awful.

I know it's supposed to be all mystical and allegorical, but it just smacks of adolescent obsessions over wet dreams.

Mai writes a letter to T complaining that no one likes her and is mystified as to why. Because you're annoying, that's why.

The narrator does some distinctive voices for this, but the one for the brother in-law's minion is the love child of Gilbert Godfrey and Peter Lorre. Ugh.

I’d have given it ½ a star, but it wasn’t badly written, just a horribly juvenile and incoherent story strung together to be as “shocking” as possible. Like a little boy scribbling swear words on the living room wall so as to get his parents to pay attention to him. Pathetic.
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LibraryThing member melopher
I read this book as it was selected for my book club. It was well-written: engaging, well paced, fairly clear and easy to read. It is "adapted" from Japanese, not directly translated, so some gaps or jumps may possibly be attributed to that fact. I didn't really enjoy it, however, simply because it is not a style or genre that I find interesting. I tend to get creeped out with a lot of supernatural, and don't have a natural curiosity for modern Japanese culture. It actually seemed like a Japanese Stephen King to me. I can handle some of it, but just don't really enjoy it.… (more)
LibraryThing member Eyejaybee
For a long time this tale of Toru Okada, his missing cat, his missing wife, his evil brother-in-law and the various people whom Okada encounters is fascinating and intriguing. You keep wanting to know why things have happened - why did Kumiko leave Toru? What is the secret power that Okada's brother-in-law seems to have? Why does May, Okada's teenage neighbour keep appearing? All this and a haunted house, the "wind-up bird", and two mystical Kano sisters! Where is it all going?
The trouble is, the answer to that question is "nowhere really!". There are just too many loose ends.. Kumiko eventually explains why she left, but later partially denies it, and she never physically reappears. We never get to discover why Noburu Wataya has mysterious powers. We just about accept Malta Kano, but is her sister Creta real? Or is she a sort of fantasy conflation of Kumiko and Malta Kano?
The visit of Lieutenant Mamiya, with the empty box, and his subsequent letters seem to have nothing to do with the rest of the story (though in themselves they provide some of the most readable sections of the book). I was expecting some further revelations regarding Mr Honda, but was disappointed.
Toru is one of those ordinary people to whom extraordinary things happen-like Voltaire's Candide, or Waugh's Paul Pennyfeather in Decline and Fall. He's quite likeable in a way, though some of his behaviour is puzzling. His cultural interests seem to be entirely western - music especially, but food as well. In fact, that is a feature of the book as a whole. If you read a British or American novel in which the main characters were interested only in oriental culture, you'd think it a bit strange, wouldn't you? Perhaps even rather pretentious.
Dreams. Almost every novel I read nowadays has dreams in it. Enough already.
The incident relating to the killing of the zoo animals is well-written and engaging, but (like Lt Mamiya's reminiscences) seems to belong to another novel. We westerners know little of the war in the Far East (except for the bits involving the UK and the USA), so the unspeakable brutality and mercilessness of the Russians and Japanese is harrowing. Perhaps Murakami should use his undoubted talents to tell a story set entirely in this context.
As for May, she's like the sort of precocious teenage girl who featured in certain French films of the 1960s. The word which was used to describe such females was "kookie". May is charming and likeable, but why do we see all her letters when Toru (apparently) doesn't? After all, we know that he receives Lt Mamiya's letters, because he comments on the old-fashioned handwriting.
The book is a sort of confidence trick - the reader is drawn in by a series of mysterious events, and we keep reading in order to find out the hows and the whys...... and that's it. It's all about the creation of wonder and suspense, but the author can't come up with a satisfactory way of resolving the conundrums he has presented us with.
I think that the book would have benefited from rigorous editing.
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LibraryThing member quaintlittlehead
"The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" is a search for the meaning of life through the eyes of an individual who can't quite make out the meaning of the lives around him. When Toru Okada begins searching for his missing cat, he does not expect the twists and turns that his encounters with some strange individuals will take. Before long, more is missing than just the cat, and everyone around him seems to have some knowledge about his circumstances that he can't explain: a mysterious voice on the telephone, a couple of sisters who can will their way into his dreams, the strange lackey of his politically prominent brother-in-law, and a mother and son haunted by horrific visions from their pasts all seem able to understand and to prophesy things that Toru can not quite piece together. As he tries to make sense of his surroundings with the help of a strange teenage girl who lives down the alley, Toru weaves in and out of a web of questions about existence itself. Like an Alice who is quite certain she has neither fallen down a rabbit hole nor stepped through a looking glass, Toru confronts the unanswerable: What is already known about our lives, and what bearing does that have on how we are able to act? How can one know what is the best thing for someone else, and what can one do when that someone else disagrees? Where, and how, do the predetermined and the free-willed intersect? Confronting these questions draws Toru in and out of a magical alternate reality, where he plays out the role of a Sherlock Holmes guided only by guesswork, dreams, and what he thinks he wants or has to do. Murakami toys with the reader as one of Toru's inexplicably omniscient others, reminding him or her throughout that Toru's life is not the plot of a novel. The writing has all the force of a parable, with enough realism to point the finger square at the heart of the literary audience and enough of the supernatural to command belief. This book is a masterful eastern parallel to the great western morality plays and existential dramas, and a welcome addition to the literary canon.… (more)
LibraryThing member TheLaughingSam
The one thing that I fear in writing this is that I KNOW whatever I write can never do this masterpiece justice. However, before I start I should state that anyone who likes their books to be very 'on the surface' (i.e. requires little analysis or thinking) or to have a very 'neat ending' should pray they never pick this up, as it would be their worst nightmare.

One of Murakami's earlier works, it strays from his Short story tradition of having nameless narrators, and embarks on the characterisation of this one: Toru Okada. Not giving too much away, but he is the perfect symbol for pacifism. The story, in the simplest, bleakest, perhaps most ignorant way, is his right of passage through life in an attempt to uncover the reasons for his wife’s sudden decision to up and go. Of course, there is MUCH more too it than that.

Along the way we meet the lady on the telephone, demanding just '10 minutes' of Toru's time, in order for them to understand each other. May Kasahara, the young teen left home alone, developing a rather bleak outlook on life, and Noboru Wataya, the brother in law our gentle and passive protagonist hates intensely, yet cannot remove him from his life.

Simply summaries aside, this book is everything a good novel should be. It should leave a lasting impression, and forever change your view and outlook on things. Some characters' plight becomes yours, and there are aspects and images that cannot be removed, and forever leave you thinking. This book deserves to be read, and then re-read. Simply put, this book is literary perfection.
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LibraryThing member deadmanjones
Whilst there's a gripping and humorous realism to the entertaining and languid prose, the effort of reading this 600 page behemoth of a novel is not really rewarded. I had enjoyed reading presuming I was embroiling myself in a series of cleverly interwoven metaphors for life, love death, but the conclusion of the book seems to negate what I presumed. This really is just a metaphysical/psychic detective story. But if the journey is better than the destination, it's still quite a good journey.… (more)
LibraryThing member krizia_lazaro
Murakami is a genius. He manages to create a different, dream-like labyrinth that is anchored in our world. Everything felt surreal like a Salvador Dali painting. Everything felt like dream-like sequences but you're not asleep. At times "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" feels like "Inception" wherein you're in dream world and you can bend reality. However, some things are too VAGUE or OPEN-ENDED, wherein you just have to use your imagination. A lot of unanswered mysteries that you just like to unfold. I want to go down a well and go to that hotel just to unravel the mysteries that can't put me to sleep at night. Only several authors can make me lay awake at night, I hate it and I love it at the same time. :)

Here is a story that names are not that important. But even if the character's names are hard to remember (because Japanese names are used) they're gonna stick to you even in your sleep. Murakami reminds me of Butch Dalisay (a Filipino writer) not because they have writing style (they don't) but because they're both obsessed with personal histories. They use several chapters/paragraphs just to show where a certain character came from even if its a minor character. And coincidentally, I love HISTORY, hehe.

He also reminds me of Gabriel Garcia-Marquez and Isabelle Allende, both are writers of magic realism. But Murakami's novels have a different kind of magic. I always loved magic realism books.

I also love the way Murakami embedded history in this book specifically the Russian-Japanese war. This war, in a way, was close to Pinoy's heart because for a brief time we have been occupied by the Japanese. The Japanese were cruel to us. But through Murakami's book you would see the war through Japanese eyes. The soldiers were demoralized and tired of it too. I'm not offering some sympathy but I can say "quits na kami". If you love historical fiction, romance and magic you'll surely love this.
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LibraryThing member llasram
This is the first Murakami work I've read, so I didn't quite know what I was getting into. And I'm still not sure. This novel evokes such a dream-like feel that I found myself just going with the flow, accepting events and characters and tangents as they briefly surfaced then floated past. This makes it difficult to characterize the work as a whole, or even to pull together the thread of the main plot. Perhaps that itself is the point? More thoughts later.… (more)
LibraryThing member Cecrow
A man living in the Tokyo suburbs is cooking spaghetti when he receives a strange phone call. It is the first of a whole series of odd events and mysterious encounters that upset his placid, easygoing life by revealing cracks that he hadn't perceived, some of which suggest linkages or lessons from others' lives that will help steer his own. Toru Okada, the hero of this novel, reminded me of John Singer from "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" for everyone's eagerness to tell him their life's story with almost no prompting. Unaccustomed to interaction with others, his reponses are usually muted and agreeable; not knowing how to respond is what makes him an ideal listener. He begins this way as a mostly passive character, but plays an increasingly greater role in directing his next steps. He's a fascinating first-person narrator for how ably he responds to oddities and threats, contradiction and mystery.

The story speaks to a divergence in realities between a real-world normality and an other-world dream state. It is an experience that this novel expresses well in the manner of its own telling, in its effect on the reader. Another theme is the unpredictability of events, a challenge to the cause-and-effect relationship between what occurs in our daily lives, as well as in the broader world around us. Many of the characters feel lost and helpless upon sensing this as a truth. I wonder whether these are frequently recurring themes in Japanese literature? I'll be reading more Murakami and perhaps others to find out.
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LibraryThing member isabelx
"He looked at me with eyes narrowed as if to apologise for being unable to speak because of the nervous black panther sleeping by his side. Which is not to say that there was a black panther sleeping by his side: he just looked as if there were."

As it is too big to carry round all the time, I kept this book in my drawer at work and it took me a whole month's worth of lunchtimes to read it and think about it.

Even before the protagonist's wife went missing, I was already wondering whether her disappearance would be linked to the cat's. For Kumiko, the cat symbolised her marriage and her independence from her family, and she kept stressing to her husband the importance of finding him, so I suspected that what she was really saying was that if the cat didn't come back, their marriage would be over. I was also wondering about the significance of the cat being named after Kumiko's brother, Noburo Wataya, a man Toru loathes and despises?

Todu Okada meets a lot of strange people over the eighteen-month course of the story, starting with May Kasahara, a teenage girl who is off school after a motor-bike accident. It is May who nick-names him Mr Wind-Up Bird, after a bird with a call like clockwork being wound, which he keeps hearing but never manages to catch sight of. Most of the people he meets have psychic powers or at least have had psychic experiences at some point in their lives, and they all have stories to tell him.

Okada is a passive character who goes with the flow, and a lot of the time not much seems to be actually happening in his life, so it is all the odder the first time he spends hours sitting in the bottom of a dry well in the garden of a deserted house because of a prophecy made by a dead fortune teller and a story told by one of the fortune teller's ex-army colleagues.

It's all rather mysterious and I think I must have missed symbolism and subtleties of meaning that a Japanese reader would have noticed.
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LibraryThing member lola_leviathan
There is already a pattern to my starring--5 stars go to big, meaty, fully-realized realistic and/or magical-realist novels that deal with big issues like the relationship of the individual to history and the meaning of life in imaginative, idiosyncratic ways that resonate deeply inside of me. See also: The God of Small Things, Song of Solomon, the works of George Eliot.… (more)
LibraryThing member whyvonne
The first Murakami I ever read, and it remains my favourite. Less tidy or polished than his other works, but it contains pretty much every theme he explores later on, and there is something lovely and sincere in its rawness. Earnest. Magical-realism, japanese-style.

Bizarre and dream-like. Everyone remembers some small, seemingly insignificant, descriptive snippet from the book with vivid clarity. Mine: Toru, standing in the rain, looking for the cat, a lemon-drop half-melted on his tongue.… (more)
LibraryThing member gwendolyndawson
Toru Okada, the protagonist, loses his job, his cat, and his wife and goes looking for all three. His search introduces him to a bizarre collection of characters. Strange occurances abound. In the end, this book has too many loose ends (perhaps because the English translation is abridged) and wanders into the weird too often. I do, however, continue to think about the book after finishing it.… (more)
LibraryThing member RandyMetcalfe
Toru Okada and his wife Kumiko lose their cat which is named after Kumiko’s brother Norobu Wataya, a rising economist, political pundit, and, latterly, a politician. Later Toru loses Kumiko as well. Toru quits his job and spends increasing amounts of time at the bottom of a dry well, presumably hoping to lose himself also. It almost takes. But fate, it seems, has other things in store for Toru Okada, whom his young neighbour, May Kasahara, dubs Mr. Wind-up Bird. Fate has apparently been acting on lots of people over the past fifty or sixty years, all leading to Toru’s attempts to find his cat and his wife, Kumiko. Eventually the cat comes back. And so does Kumiko.

On the surface it isn’t a compelling tale, but Murakami adds moments of spice in the form of gratuitous extreme violence and gratuitous sex, be it physical or mental (in a Murakami novel dream sex is as good as real sex). There are also a number of exceedingly dubious forays into the nature of the self, quasi-mystical communication and healing, and fashion. And of course, in keeping with Murakami’s other writing, you will encounter many references to western classical music, jazz, and pop, lots of product placement for western consumers, and, in just over 600 pages, almost no references to anything that originates in Japan.

The writing here is very flat, almost atonal. The protagonist, Toru Okada, is a near blank slate. The women characters are almost entirely reduced to their sexuality (so much so that when they cease to have sex either mentally or physically with the protagonist, they disappear from the novel altogether). On the plus side, I suppose you could say that it is a quick read. On the other hand, I feel like in a few days I won’t remember anything that happened. Not recommended.
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LibraryThing member lyzadanger
Murakami's complex metaphysical tale of self-reflection, betrayal, connections and synchronicity resonates with the weight of the Japanese psyche and twines over itself with skillful precision, but still leaves a stain of emptiness in its wake.

What we have is a series of elements: a wayward cat, a dull-as-dishwater--and inert--unemployed protagonist, an absconded wife, a brutal politician-economist-power-mad-brother-in-law, and a curious central fulcrum of 1930s Manchuria (or Manchukuo, as the Japanese puppet state was called).

Murakami leaves the connections as yours to plug in to each, though he does offer some occasional exposition. Meaning blinks in and out of characters' lives, leaving them vacillating between banal nothingness (so effetely expressed as to make the reader want to slit their own wrists) and profound--if inscrutable--psychological journeys in which they make supernatural visits to hotels and witness the mass execution of zoo animals. All as Murakami tightens the laces connecting events seemingly discrete in content, time and geography.

There is something haunting and meaningless in the web of meaning spun in "Wind up Bird". One is hard-pressed to forget that Toru Okada, the protagonist, is wholly unremarkable. His apathy runs deep and his days are mostly naps. The disappearance of his wife seems to be the central concern of the novel, but Okada never makes you believe in his loss more than as something to motivate the increasingly bizarre underworld he slips into.

The problem with this book is that, in the way that some of its characters lose their meaning, it left me feeling hollow. A kind of quiet madness. A creeping futility. There is such mundanity in Okada's real world that without the awful, often viscerally violent things that happen to him and his orbiting co-characters, there would be no point in his existence. That is, Okada is saved by the terrible, magical things that happen to him--they're better than the other, reality-based possibilities.
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LibraryThing member fredfreddson
Murakami is a jazz lover, and this book follows a jazz pattern. It begins with a relatively simple, familiar theme, which is extended through a set of increasingly radical permutations until it breaks through to another seemingly metaphysical dimension of insight and exaltation, which appears to spring from, but have not direct connection to, the apparently banal tune that started things off.

At the beginning of the book I must admit that I found the colour-by-numbers exposition gratingly simplistic, but as the deeper strcuture of the novel becomes apparent, this irritation turned into appreciation at the subtlety of Murakami's art. More than many of his contemporaries, Murakami knows how to turn the dross of the everyday into something strange and beautiful. In this book, he not only manages to dazzle with his postmodern pop culture bags of tricks; rather, he delivers a work that reaches through the wall of silence to examine the dark and seedy side of modern Japan.
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LibraryThing member banjo123
I LOVED this book. I listened to about half on audio--great reading by Rupert Degas--and read the rest, finishing it in a burst of compulsive reading last night. And, wow, Murakami has a strange mind. this book is full of different characters and stories, strange, disturbing and delicious. I won't tell too much about the plot or details, as it was great to read without preconceptions. There are a lot of dream sequences and what might be called magical realism. Though I am not sure that's exactly the right word. There are things that are happening on an inner, spiritual level and also things happening on real-life concrete level. Sometimes those two worlds converge, sometimes they are parallel.

At the core, this is a simple story. It's about two people; Toru Okada and his wife Kumiko; who have been damaged by different kinds of oppressions in their early lives; and seek to build a new life together. Building something from nothing is hard; and Toru has a strange kind of emptiness as a result. Kumiko finds herself moving back into her old world, and Toru struggles to understand and to act.
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LibraryThing member Jannes
Every time I read Murakami it shakes me up. Not always in the same way, but I don't think I've ever put down a book of his unaffected.

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle isn't an easy or straightforward book -At times you have almost no idea what's going on, or where things are going. Even so, it's an extremely compelling read, like a puzzle that needs solving it drives you on, trying to make the pieces match. When you're done (or when I was, at least) You're left with the feeling that everything you've read actually do match up - you're jut not sure as to how. Almost everything seems laden with symbolism: baseball bats, cats, the act of smoking or eating, every piece of music... it's a trip into the personal mythological world of the author, but with no map provided.… (more)
LibraryThing member DanielClausen
I’ve been putting off reading this book for awhile. Usually, any book that is over 300 pages puts me off. I had a bad experience reading Stephen King’s “IT” when I was a high school student. The experience made me extremely suspicious of books that start well and go on for a long time. [As a writer, my suspicion is that the author started writing the book without any clear sense where they were going…thus, they tend to wander without any satisfying conclusion.]

The book is strange -- even by Haruki Murakami standards.

For me, the elements that make Murakami’s stories work are the main characters -- the not-so-odd, kind of normal, but the end odd, slightly aloof characters that occupy the stable center of a bizarre world. They make his books oh-so plausible.

I like what one reviewer said on Goodreads about Murkami, “Basically, he’s awesome.”

Basically? Basically yes. So what else is there to write?

I read the first chapter of the book as a short story in “The Elephant Vanishes” and it works really well as a short story -- a bizarre adventure into the back alley of a neighborhood that has deep, dark secrets. If you don’t want to tackle the 600 page beast, at the very least read the short story.

The book was a revelation -- perhaps because it’s surrealism seems so realistic. Is it possible that something surrealistic can be so very realistic? It’s not so much that Murakami is able to make the surrealistic realistic, but rather that he exposes the lunacy of what we take as the normal and everyday.

The scenes depicting the brutality of the second World War struck an especially intense cord with me. In some ways, the intense violence of the war and the comfortable world of 1990s Japan couldn’t be further apart -- but they are connected by the absurdities that proliferate in both.

In many ways -- ways I cannot even begin to put into words -- these absurdities are the most accurate descriptions of evil I have come across.

Again, back to the main character -- he is the perfect main character, strange but practical and level-headed, he is open to the bizarre but also wants to make things concrete. He is me! Or at least, I think he is me.

Does it all tie together in the end? Of course it does. The book kind of ends in Nagasaki. And the author speaking through the main character asks, “Why Nagasaki?”

Indeed, why Nagasaki? Because I’m from Nagasaki, Mr. Wind Up Bird. It’s all connected in the end. Even this review.
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LibraryThing member CBJames
I'm going to be haunted by this book for some time and I don't know why. I'm not really sure what this book is about. I may not even know what really happens in the story but I keep thinking about it.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami tells the story of Toru Okada who is looking for his wife's missing cat. But this is just a McGuffin, to borrow Hitchcock's term, to throw the reader off track from the real story. Or maybe it's the key to everything that happens afterwards.

Okada lives a rather secluded life in a Tokyo suburb with his wife who is the breadwinner. Okada spends his days trying to figure out how to spend his days. His search for himself is interrupted by three events, the missing cat, the disappearance of his wife, and a phone call from a strange woman.

The novel becomes a sort of detective story as Okada looks for the cat, tries to get his wife to return and to figure out who the woman that keeps calling him is. Soon several women enter Okada's life and the story takes a turn towards David Lynch territory. The first woman, Malta Kano and her sister Creta Kano are both sort of psychics who give Okada clues to both his past and his future. They are strangely involved with both his wife and his brother-in-law, and may have the ability to find the missing cat. The mother-son team whom Okada calls Nutmeg and Cinnamon find Okada has psychic abilities himself and use these to further their own goals. The neighbor girl May Kinsahara traps Okada in a well on a friendly whim and sets in motion a series of events that end with the possibility that Okada has murdered his brother-in-law, a powerful up-and-coming politician. All of these events seem to be connected to what happened to Okada's friend Mr. Honda in Manchuria during the Japanese occupation and after.

Confused? I certainly was at many points while reading The Wind-up Bird Chronicle but I felt compelled to continue reading. Haruki Marakami is certainly a wonderful story teller. In The Wind-up Bird Chronicle he keeps several story threads going throughout the novel, giving the reader just enough to keep you interested, without telling you what is really going on, which actually makes you more interested. Along with the story telling, there are many scenes and images that haunt the reader: a man who goes into a well to find a good spot to think and ends up trapped there for days, a massacre in a zoo in occupied China, an internet conversation between a man and what he believes is his lost wife.

I admit that I am still trying to figure it all out, puzzle it all together. I will be for several days at least. For that reason, I am giving The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami five out of five stars.
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Language

Original language

Japanese

Barcode

4914
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