Norwegian Wood final Reading Journal

Norwegian Wood

"Don't judge a book by its cover."

My great fantastical love with Toru was torn into pieces as the book proceeded. Throughout the beginning of the book, I thought Toru kept staring at her as if he was charmed, feeling blissful at every little part of her and every little act she does. However, I slowly started to notice that Toru wasn't in love with her; he was just the kind of guy who is indecisive. He merely lets his friends and lovers come and go, and lets them do whatever they want with him. To tell the truth, watching him taking indefinite positions and maintaining vague relationships with all the girls he meets, Naoko, Midori and Reiko, I actually began to hate him from some point. If anyone continues to live like this, the twisted relationships will be entangled even more until it is inevitable to cut all the tangled ropes with scissors.

Gripping the receiver, I raised my head and turned to see what lay beyond the telephone booth. Where was I now? I had no idea. No idea at all. Where was this place? All that flashed into my eyes were the countless shapes of people walking by to nowhere. Again and again, I called out for Midori from the dead center of this place that was place.

My comment on "humans are lonely beings," on the other hand, has not changed since I wrote my last reading journal. People are born alone, go through numerous relationships to experience recurrent meetings and farewell, and in the end die alone. Most people, however, try their best to deny this fact. They continuously look for someone to stay beside them, miss friends and lovers, and desire to make more friends wherever they go. Thus, about 99.9% of all the fights and crying that happen around the world are due to the relationship problems. As such, people do their best endeavors to prove themselves that they are not lonely animals and therefore hate to lose their dear friends and families. It's because the fear to be left alone in this world is the fear that eats away your bones.

I personally think that this is why Naoko killed herself. Naoko lost her most valuable people in her young age without even a hint: Her sister and Kizuki both killed themselves. Since Naoko isn't the narrator of the story, the book does not reflect the detailed feelings of her. However, my assumption of her thought process is the following.

She would probably feel great resentment towards two people who had not said anything to her before they killed themselves. If I were her, I would think, 'Why didn't he tell me anything about his hardships? Why didn't she talk to me if she was going through too much on her own? Why didn't she let me share her tears? I told them just about anything! I never hid anything from them. How come I didn't know anything? Was I anything to them? Why did I have to face this horrible agony? Why?' It would be like a house with only two pillars with the pillars collapsed all at once. I don't exactly know how she felt then since I've never experienced such pain before, but this is how I think I would feel.

This is why Naoko kept on requesting checks for Toru's love. She was scared that Toru would leave her just like everybody else did. The trauma kept on living in her heart and she was afraid she might be left alone again. And what was more, she had already experienced the fear of being left alone. The increasing anxiety led her to the sanatorium and I think the more secluded life with even less interaction with others made the anxiety get even worse. Besides, her shock from the kiss with Reiko, other happenings we don't know, and the final blow, Reiko's words that Toru confessed that he likes Midori, amplified her fear to great extent to committing suicide in the end. It is not stated that Reiko had actually told Naoko about the confession, but I can't think of any other way to explain her death.

Naoko concluded to herself that Toru would leave her, like all the others. When she faced her death, she was probably thinking that she couldn't bear the same pain and loneliness all by herself again, if that moment comes.

Norwegian Wood I

The author starts the story at the present viewpoint and goes back to reminisce his life eighteen years ago. He talks about his memories about Naoko, from the first time he met her until he falls in love with her. Along with that, he describes his university life, introducing his bizarre roommate, "Storm Trooper." The next person he meets is Nagasawa, who became a legend after swallowing three slugs to end the conflicts. Toru is obviously admiring him, saying that he slept with a hundred girls and is an amazing conversational wizard.

The story goes on like this until page 50, but I have a more important confession to make: I think I'm in love with Toru Watanabe. While reading the pages, I quickly noticed that he is such a grown-up with amazing personalities and that he is very thoughtful, although he doesn't necessarily boasts those features himself. Also, I was awed by how he deals with people's relationships and the emerging problems from the relationships. Actually, this book, at least up to page 50, deals a lot with relationships, especially about love, parting, life, and death.

           The main theme for this part of the story is about the love between Toru and Naoko. Actually, at first, I was confused if Toru loved this girl or not. Of course, he did want to make Naoko happy and said that he was distressed because of walking with such a beautiful girl, but all he does is describe exactly how she behaves, and speculates what she is thinking every moment. He never blurts out those cliché phrases such as 'my heart flutters too much that it could possibly burst,' or 'she made me crazy.' I couldn't guess how Naoko feels about Toru, either. However, when he writes, "My stories of Storm Trooper always made Naoko laugh. Not many things succeeded in doing that, so I talked about him often, though I was not exactly proud of myself for using him this way," I was starting to be convinced that he was falling in love with her. And at last, it became certain that Toru was totally into her when he wrote, "I wanted to hold her tight when she did these things, but I would hesitate and hold back. I was afraid I might hurt her if I did that," or "Besides, the sight of Naoko's smiling face had become my own special source of pleasure." I wish I had someone who loved me in this way. I also thought this could actually be the definition of true love.

           

          Another main thing the writer talks about is parting, or death. In the beginning, Toru wonders why he could only remember the scenery while he cannot recall all the other things, including himself and, most importantly, Naoko. He also writes, "The more the memories of Naoko inside me fade, the more deeply I am able to understand her. Because Naoko never loved me." I think the author tried to emphasize that humans are originally lonely beings. I think human beings are meant to be alone. There is always a farewell in any kind of relationships; whether it's death or fate, people are born alone and die alone. There is no eternal friendship and there is no eternal love. Toru's soul was also filled with similar anguish after his best friend, Kizuki, dies. Before Kizuki's death, he believed that life and death are remote from each other, but now he realizes that life and death always travel their paths together. Personally, I don't have any experience of death of someone near me, so honestly, I don't get what he's talking about.

           

         While reading, I also realized that a life can be altered according to how a person puts meaning to his life. Toru considers everything meaningless; he never puts any meaning to his friends, his girlfriend, and even the books he learns at school. "There was nothing I wanted to be," this is what he says. I'm guessing he likes "Gatsby" because Gatsby has the exactly opposite personality to his. Gatsby has the only one desire that he can dedicate everything for. Toru, on the opposite, doesn't even know what he wants.

          

            Lastly, my most memorable phrase in this part was the following: "If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking." Nagasawa said this, while rationalizing his liking of the rarely read books. Reading this part, I remembered how modern men only consider the bestsellers to be worth reading and buying. Then, I could see why some of the intellectuals say that nationally standardized textbooks and tests make people stupid.

Salty Memories

Salty Memories

When I closed my eyes leaning on the edge of the deck, the sound of the smooth, white waves flowed into my ear. The captain of the ship started the music that reminded me of Texas countryside, along which people danced and seagulls shrieked. The gentle breeze ruffled my hair randomly and the scarlet sun was sinking on the horizon. Standing there, I tried to think of other moments in my life that made my eyes shine with happiness, such as when I was accepted into KMLA and when my boyfriend told me he loved me. Ironically, simply standing there on the edge of the deck made me happier than ever.

It was then when I realized I had fantasies on a vague concept of "sea"; like a reflex, when I breathe in the sea breeze or hear the sea foaming with white waves, my body returns to a calm and happy state. I tried to think of reasons why I love sea so much and a never-ending panorama of happy memories at sea passed through my mind. At the age of 11, I learned how to surf in California, and I remembered digging out clams and catching blue crabs at mud flats with my mom, dad and my little sister. At night, we used to have barbecue parties with sweet potatoes and numerous stars embroidered in the night sky.

My panorama was stopped by the announcement by the captain, notifying a beautiful castle on the left that was built in the Byzantine period. The announcement ended and I looked down the cruise, craning down to see the white waves walking by, one by one. As I was watching them, people were chattering in loud, Turkish voice. Having no one to talk to, I kept on staring at the bottom of the ship, when a burst of loneliness pierced into my heart like an icicle. It wasn't a kind of loneliness in a boy and girl relationship, but more of a loneliness that I realized I had to go through for the rest of my life.

Staring at the wide open, unpromising sea, I got lost in painful memories of my times of ignorance before I realized that I am the only one who can believe in me.

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Waiting was never easy. On that day, I sat in the same bench, under the same tree, at the same park, across the same building. I sat there waiting. Numerous people passed by. Around 6, I saw span pants jogging. Around 12, I heard yellow kindergarteners toddle. Around 8, lovers covered themselves behind branches. But nowhere could I find my person.

Some people asked me why I sat on the seat all day long. I told them, when you get lost at an airport, you stay there until someone finds you. When you get lost in life, you do the same. I just thought my someone would come up someday. But when?

Everyday, the sponge heart inside me got heavier. The sweat I shed during years of determination, the tears that streaked down when my wife left me, the damp hollowness I felt every night under the same soggy covers. Whenever I breathed in, the sponge would repress me. It made my footsteps lag across the street when I took a stroll. So I sat there on the bench until I could find my person who could heal my wounds and always take my side, which never happened.

When I was 11, I thought my best friend would always be there for me. When I was 12, I thought my favorite celebrity would always be there for me. When I was 16, I thought my advisor would do so. When I was 17, I thought my parents were the only ones who would do so. When I found out I was wrong the whole time, after experiencing a number of betrayals from people I trusted, I finally knew. No one, even God, if he existed, could ever be there with me forever and always. I was the only one who could believe me and be responsible for my own life.

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"Ladies and gentlemen, the dinner is ready on the first floor cafeteria. Thank you."

The announcement by the captain dragged me out of my epiphany recollections, and I stood in a line after a blonde European girl. Standing in the long, long line, I was about to fall into the past memories again when a guy after me told me to scooch. 

Ken Robinson: How to escape education's death valley

Certainly. I think he should be the president of ministry of education so that no more students would commit suicides from work stress.

The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World

The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World

Gabriel García Márquez

"Uses magic realism but has a reality behind it"

           The first thing that struck me when I first finished reading the story was that the fictional society is oddly similar to the modern society where lookism is rampant in our daily lives. Such conclusion was driven by the way people behave towards the dead man, or such attitude and how influential a single person can be. The evidences are emphasized in the following points.

             Just as the women finished cleaning up the body, they are shocked by the extremely handsome appearance of the dead man, establishing a blind stereotype of him: "But only when they finished cleaning him off did they become aware of the kind of man he was and it left them breathless. Not only was he the tallest, strongest, most virile, and best built man they had ever seen, but even though they were looking at him there was no room for him in their imagination."

              With the bias deeply engraved in their minds, the women are willing to do anything for the dead man, slowly becoming big "fans" of him: "Fascinated by his huge size and his beauty, the women then decided to make him some pants from a large piece of sail and a shirt from some bridal Brabant linen so that he could continue through his death with dignity." The "fans" in the story is quite similar to "fans" today, who intend to serve their favorite celebrities as gods or goddesses. There are cases in which these fans send expensive or otherwise valuable gifts such as laptops and drawings of the celebrity, the situation that is similar to the women making some pants from a large piece of sail and a shirt from some bridal Brabant linen.

            

              The women are slowly and thoroughly manipulated by the stereotypes they established themselves, now starting to freely imagine what he was like when he was alive. The speculation has no evidence at all, but they come up with specific words he would have said or detailed behavior he would have shown and how others would have reacted to him. According to the women, he felt sorry for his own size wherever he went, not sitting anywhere lest he might break the chair he sat on. Also, his big size made him uncomfortable, "condemned to going through doors sideways, cracking his head on crossbeams." The women also thought that if that magnificent man had lived in the village, his house would have had the widest doors, the highest ceiling, and the strongest floor, his bedstead would have been made from a midship frame held together by iron bolts, and his wife would have been the happiest woman.

             This state of the women, acting overly nice to the dead man and now making up whole stories of him when he was alive, reflects the desire to become familiar with every little detail of the handsome drowned man's life. The similar kind of desire is also shown by the "big fans" or "paparazzi" today, who are willing to sacrifice anything to get information on current state of the celebrity. The desire is exactly why the paparazzi and privacy exposure of celebrities have become one of the most critical problems in modern society.

             The women then assume that the man was good natured when he was alive, just by looking at his handsome outer appearance. The assumption, of course, does not make any sense, with no proof that can back up their stories. We make the same mistake today, automatically and unconsciously assuming that handsome or beautiful people have such good personalities. Furthermore, when the women come to learn that the drowned man is not from the neighbor area, they sighs, "Praise the Lord," "He's ours!"

              It is simply amazing how influential a single person can be. Given by the fact that the village people held the most splendid funeral for him and that they also "chose a father and mother from among the best people, and aunts and uncles and cousins, so that through him all the inhabitants of the village became kinsmen," the author is not only trying to emphasize the great impact the dead man has on the whole village, but also trying to lead the readers into thinking that this is ridiculous. By showing the ridiculous circumstances through the description of the story for the readers, the author may be trying to leave the readers laugh at the fictional society, thereby giving them a chance to laugh at, or look back on their own society. With rational thinking, worshipping a dead man and establishing kinship with the dead man are all extremely weird and in some ways grotesque. In this case, the author in this story most effectively delivered the lesson for his readers, both making up irrational and funny scenes to laugh at using magic realism, and emphasizing the huge impact the dead man has on the whole village, especially when the women thought, "… it seemed to them that the wind had never been so steady nor the sea so restless as on that night and they supposed that the change had something to do with the dead man," or in the last sentence, "… yes, over there, that's Esteban's village."