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Zusatztext “A masterly novel.... Norwegian Wood bears the unmistakable marks of Murakami’s hand.” – The New York Times Book Review “ Norwegian Wood ... not only points to but manifests the author’s genius.” – Chicago Tribune “[A] treat ... Murakami captures the heartbeat of his generation and draws the reader in so completely you mourn when the story is done.” – The Baltimore Sun “Vintage Murakami [and] easily the most erotic of [his] novels.” – Los Angeles Times Book Review Informationen zum Autor HARUKI MURAKAMI lives near Tokyo. Newly translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin. Klappentext Stunning and elegiac! Norwegian Wood first propelled Haruki Murakami into the forefront of the literary scene. Toru! a serious young college student in Tokyo! is devoted to Naoko! a beautiful and introspective young woman! but their mutual passion is marked by the tragic death of their best friend years before. As Naoko retreats further into her own world! Toru finds himself drawn to a fiercely independent and sexually liberated young woman. A magnificent coming-of-age story steeped in nostalgia! Norwegian Wood blends the music! the mood! and the ethos that were the sixties with a young man's hopeless and heroic first love. One I was thirty-seven then, strapped in my seat as the huge 747 plunged through dense cloud cover on approach to the Hamburg airport. Cold November rains drenched the earth and lent everything the gloomy air of a Flemish landscape: the ground crew in rain gear, a flag atop a squat airport building, a BMW billboard. So-Germany again. Once the plane was on the ground, soft music began to flow from the ceiling speakers: a sweet orchestral cover version of the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood." The melody never failed to send a shudder through me, but this time it hit me harder than ever. I bent forward in my seat, face in hands to keep my skull from splitting open. Before long one of the German stewardesses approached and asked in English if I were sick. "No," I said, "just dizzy." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks." She smiled and left, and the music changed to a Billy Joel tune. I straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again. The plane reached the gate. People began unlatching their seatbelts and pulling baggage from the storage bins, and all the while I was in the meadow. I could smell the grass, feel the wind on my face, hear the cries of the birds. Autumn 1969, and soon I would be twenty. The stewardess came to check on me again. This time she sat next to me and asked if I was all right. "I'm fine, thanks," I said with a smile. "Just feeling kind of blue." "I know what you mean," she said. "It happens to me, too, every once in a while." She stood and gave me a lovely smile. "Well, then, have a nice trip. Auf Wiedersehen." "Auf Wiedersehen. Eighteen years have gone by, and still I can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. Washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, brilliant green. The October breeze set white fronds of head-tall grasses swaying. One long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. It almost hurt to look at that faroff sky. A puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking-a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. We heard no other sounds. We met no other people. We saw only two bright, red birds leap startled from the center of the meadow and dart into the woods. As we ambled along, Naoko sp...
