Absurdism and Murakami

When reading Murakami, I often feel baffled by the nonchalance of Boku, or any of his protagonists, for that matter. While narrators are not complete outcasts and operate somewhat normally (friends, school, career, romance), they do not adhere to a strong set of morals, nor do they react in the face of weirdness. The Murakami narrator seems to embrace what’s thrown at them and never denies themselves pleasure, even if the situation is morally grey.

To name a few examples of this nonchalance and amorality:

- Toru in Norwegian Wood sleeps with his dead best friend’s girlfriend, and engages in questionable sexual escapades with Nagasawa. He doesn’t seem baffled when Reiko tells him she slept with her underage student. He doesn’t weep when his friends commit suicide. He has sex with his dead girlfriend’s best friend.

- The protagonist in Sleep has a tight-knit family, but keeps a huge secret from them: that she doesn’t sleep and feels increasingly changed by the experience. She doesn’t seek a doctor’s attention like a worried patient, but instead relishes the opportunity to each chocolate and read books.

- Boku in A Wild Sheep Chase quits his job to go on the hunt for a sheep and doesn’t seem to think it’s all that crazy — he also doesn’t react when his girlfriend leaves him forever. 

This behavior is all very consistent with the tenets of absurdism. Absurdists believe the trials and triumphs that come throughout one’s life are all equally meaningless. But instead of nihilists, who believe there is no point to living at all, absurdists embrace the journey. If everything is absurd, they say,  let us find enjoyment and connection in the insanity. If it's meaningless, let us create meaning. This is what the Murakami narrator does: their grey morality is absurdist in that the narrator recognizes the meaninglessness of their actions, and the nonchalance is because they would never expect anything less than the nonsensical. Boku is willing to take advantage of a strange situation: listen to a nice record and drink a glass of wine while he’s stranded alone in a snowstorm. 

Camus questions: What if Sisyphus were happy pushing the boulder up the hill for eternity? What if he found pleasure in the journey, even though he was condemned to it? I think Murakami's narrators take joy in the absurd worlds they’re placed in, the tasks required of them, and the strange people they meet. They always find their pleasure, even if it ends badly.

-Ayjia