The first time I read ‘Norwegian Wood’, I was barely a foot inside the chaotic mess that was my college life. I was 19 and volatile – it should have been a perfect book to pick up.
It was. In some ways. In some ways, it was a much better read this time round, 6 years later, aeons of people looking over my shoulder, aeons of people left behind.
I do believe you cannot get all that a good book has to offer in a single skimming through. You need to read it twice. At least. Let it sink. Let it stay.
Some things don’t change of course. Yes this book still has its setbacks, its controversial bits, its exasperating moments. It still has more sex than is palatably needed. But it now also has undertones I never before paid attention to.
“Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life.”
6 years have gone by, I’ve lost my Kizuki, and nothing is the same anymore. Not the book. Not the world. Not death.
And with all that looking over my shoulder, I’ve come to love this book. Its vulnerablility and its unabashed soul. Its heart and its autumn leaves.
by A_Flobberworm