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Toru Watanabe sits on a plane. His head rests against the seat in front of him as an orchestral rendition of Norwegian Wood by the Beatles. He is instantly taken back to his freshman year in college where he found his first love. The memories rush back to the harmonies of the melody, as if calling in a requiem to his past - one which he feels deeply sorrowful for. He begins to piece back together his past together through their significance. He tells himself "Everything was too sharp and clear, so that I could never tell where to start - the way that a map shows too much can sometimes be useless." This quote essentially paves the way for the rest of the novel. For Watanabe in this moment he begins to realize the significance memories that he once lived. Norwegian Wood, is a touching tale of love and despair. The center theme of it all is simply about the mistakes that we make as we grow old, and how we allow loves to slip. The novel is written beautifully with vivid imagery and language. Murakami vividly describes what it's like to feel in love and what it's like to feel lost. The book never feels like it is indulgent, it is instead very real, very raw, and believable. Most of the time, Watanabe describes his memories very normally, all carry importance, but they all seem very real and not overtly dramatic. However, when he speaks of the moments that caused great impact on him, he explores them in a way that only an adult could. Not in the sense of maturity, but rather because he has had the time to reflect on it and to understand the moments in his life. I loved every page of this book. It often became too difficult to read for it's realistic depictions of the life that Watanabe is living. He admits to his mistakes in a way that only a man who has pondered on them could. The story never feels redundant but rather transcendent since it never dwells in the parts that feel unimportant. There is certainly a lot of symbolism here since he recounts them in a fashion that isn't necessarily factual but rather similar to a conversation. There is empty windows in the past, yet I found myself filling them with the emotions he could not bare to right. This is human. The book spoke on a level that I have never seen done so well. The book is so rigid it was difficult to hold up, but I continued since I wanted to understand his pain. I wanted to know what was important to him. This is something I wish to emulate someday, but for now I must grow and see the world in the intensity of the now, only to hope that my memories will show me an honest reality. A reality of either sorrow or warmth.