murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood
murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood
eyond the window cast a soft white glow, like moonlight, over the room. Midori slept with her back to the light. She lay so perfectly still, she might have been frozen stiff. Bending over, I caught the sound of her breathing. She slept just like her father. The suitcase from her recent travels stood by the bed. Her white coat hung on the back of a chair. Her desktop was neatly arranged, and on the wall over it hung a Snoopy calendar. I nudged the curtain aside and looked down at the deserted shops. Every shop was closed, their metal shutters down, the vending machines hunched in front of the off-licence the only sign of something waiting for the dawn. The moan of longdistance lorry tyres sent a deep shudder through the air every now and then. I went back to the kitchen, poured myself another shot of brandy, and went on reading Beneath the Wheel. By the time I had finished it the sky was growing light. I made myself some instant coffee and used some notepaper and a ballpoint pen I found on the table to write a message to Midori: I drank some of your brandy. I bought a copy of Beneath the Wheel. It's light outside, so I'm going home. Goodbye. Then, after some hesitation, I wrote: You look really cute when you're sleeping. I washed my coffee cup, switched off the kitchen light, went downstairs, quietly lifted the shutter, and stepped outside. I worried that a neighbour might find me suspicious, but there was no one on the street at 5.50-something in the morning. Only the crows were on their usual rooftop perch, glaring down at the street. I glanced up at the pale pink curtains in Midori's window, walked to the tram stop, rode to the end of the line, and walked to my dorm. On the way I found an open cafe and ate a breakfast of rice and miso soup, pickled vegetables and fried eggs. Circling around to the back of the dorm, I tapped on Nagasawa's ground-floor window. He let me in immediately. "Coffee?" he asked. "Nah." I thanked him, went up to my room, brushed my teeth, took my 278
trousers off, got under the covers, and clamped my eyes shut. Finally, a dreamless sleep closed over me like a heavy lead door. I wrote to Naoko every week, and she often wrote back. Her letters were never very long. Soon there were references to the cold November mornings and evenings. You went back to Tokyo just about the time the autumn weather was deepening, so for a time I couldn't tell whether the hole that opened up inside me was from missing you or from the change of the season. Reiko and I talk about you all the time. She says be sure to say "Hi" to you. She is as nice to me as ever. I don't think I would have been able to stand this place if I didn't have her with me. I cry when I'm lonely. Reiko says it's good I can cry. But feeling lonely really hurts. When I'm lonely at night, people talk to me from the darkness. They talk to me the way trees moan in the wind at night. Kizuki; my sister: they talk to me like that all the time. They're lonely, too, and looking for someone to talk to. I often reread your letters at night when I'm lonely and in pain. I get confused by a lot of things that come from outside, but your descriptions of the world around you give me wonderful relief. It's so strange! I wonder why that should be? So I read them over and over, and Reiko reads them, too. Then we talk about the things you tell me. I really liked the part about that girl Midori's father. We look forward to getting your letter every week as one of our few entertainments - yes, in a place like this, letters are our entertainments. I try my best to set aside a time in the week for writing to you, but once I actually sit down in front of the blank sheet of paper, I begin to feel depressed. I'm really having to push myself to write this letter, too. Reiko's been yelling at me to answer you. Don't get me wrong, though. I have tons of things I want to talk to you about, to tell you about. It's just hard for me to put them into words. Which is why it's 279
- Page 228 and 229: "After I do my laundry tomorrow mor
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- Page 232 and 233: make people get really vicious all
- Page 234 and 235: worry, I'd take care of both you an
- Page 236 and 237: "Will you really take me to a porno
- Page 238 and 239: stolen bases. After noon I went bac
- Page 240 and 241: made myself a cup of tea with a tea
- Page 242 and 243: "I do." "Look, the world is an inhe
- Page 244 and 245: Eventually a waiter came and took o
- Page 246 and 247: "What do you mean "that kind of tal
- Page 248 and 249: "You know, Toru," she said, "I have
- Page 250 and 251: "I can leave," I said. "No," said H
- Page 252 and 253: of loving anybody. There's always s
- Page 254 and 255: "Do you know somewhere we could pla
- Page 256 and 257: "Or is it that you don't like being
- Page 258 and 259: anybody's said to me in the past ye
- Page 260 and 261: quadrangle. I began by telling Naok
- Page 262 and 263: There was no sign of Midori at the
- Page 264 and 265: I sipped my whisky and soda, then s
- Page 266 and 267: open a pistachio, "the whole time I
- Page 268 and 269: "You know," she said, "I have this
- Page 270 and 271: "There aren't any trees around here
- Page 272 and 273: early." "Wait a minute, I thought y
- Page 274 and 275: "Me, too," I said. "Every once in a
- Page 276 and 277: situation conducive to sexual excit
- Page 280 and 281: so painful for me to write letters.
- Page 282 and 283: Thinking back on the year 1969, all
- Page 284 and 285: shovelling snow when there was time
- Page 286 and 287: over this, and then climbed into he
- Page 288 and 289: great couple." "Yeah, right!" I sai
- Page 290 and 291: I went to a phone box and dialled h
- Page 292 and 293: gardeners in the area and because h
- Page 294 and 295: you to one of our sessions if possi
- Page 296 and 297: A letter came from Midori on 6 Apri
- Page 298 and 299: eginning of October." "Whew! That c
- Page 300 and 301: ago. My sister helps out there thre
- Page 302 and 303: even noticed that my hairstyle had
- Page 304 and 305: Saturdays and Sundays: waiting on t
- Page 306 and 307: of letters like this, but from Naok
- Page 308 and 309: whisky. Itoh said I could spend the
- Page 310 and 311: it for you soon. I went to the univ
- Page 312 and 313: "I've been really lonely these past
- Page 314 and 315: you don't know the answer to someth
- Page 316 and 317: eak, without a sound, soaking her h
- Page 318 and 319: "But really, Watanabe, you don't wa
- Page 320 and 321: her bed. I had no doubts about thos
- Page 322 and 323: The fourth thing I have to say is t
- Page 324 and 325: Reiko wrote to me several times aft
- Page 326 and 327: nails being driven into the lid of
trousers off, got under the covers, and clamped my eyes shut. Finally,<br />
a dreamless sleep closed over me like a heavy lead door.<br />
I wrote to Naoko every week, and she often wrote back. Her letters<br />
were never very long. Soon there were references to the cold<br />
November mornings and evenings.<br />
You went back to Tokyo just about the time the autumn weather was<br />
deepening, so for a time I couldn't tell whether the hole that opened up<br />
inside me was from missing you or from the change of the season.<br />
Reiko and I talk about you all the time. She says be sure to say "Hi" to<br />
you. She is as nice to me as ever. I don't think I would have been able<br />
to stand this place if I didn't have her with me. I cry when I'm lonely.<br />
Reiko says it's good I can cry. But feeling lonely really hurts. When<br />
I'm lonely at night, people talk to me from the darkness. They talk to<br />
me the way trees moan in the wind at night. Kizuki; my sister: they<br />
talk to me like that all the time. They're lonely, too, and looking for<br />
someone to talk to.<br />
I often reread your letters at night when I'm lonely and in pain. I get<br />
confused by a lot of things that come from outside, but your<br />
descriptions of the world around you give me wonderful relief. It's so<br />
strange! I wonder why that should be? So I read them over and over,<br />
and Reiko reads them, too. Then we talk about the things you tell me.<br />
I really liked the part about that girl Midori's father. We look forward<br />
to getting your letter every week as one of our few entertainments -<br />
yes, in a place like this, letters are our entertainments.<br />
I try my best to set aside a time in the week for writing to you, but<br />
once I actually sit down in front of the blank sheet of paper, I begin to<br />
feel depressed. I'm really having to push myself to write this letter,<br />
too. Reiko's been yelling at me to answer you. Don't get me wrong,<br />
though. I have tons of things I want to talk to you about, to tell you<br />
about. It's just hard for me to put them into words. Which is why it's<br />
279
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