When reading The City and Its Uncertain Walls, I kept returning to how unimpressive Murakami’s protagonists tend to be. On page 28, the narrator describes his parents as “your average, everyday kind of parents,” noting his father’s job at a pharmaceutical company and his mother’s work as a housewife. That ordinary background mirrors the narrator himself. Like many of Murakami’s central characters, he feels intentionally plain, quiet, and reactive. He moves through the story without much initiative, letting circumstances shape him. I understand that Murakami uses this flatness to heighten the contrast between the ordinary world and the surreal elements around it, but the pattern becomes repetitive.
The same feeling came up for me when thinking about Toru Watanabe in Norwegian Wood. Toru is also defined by passivity, but it becomes especially noticeable in his romantic relationships. He drifts between Naoko and Midori without ever showing a strong sense of direction or conviction. Instead of making clear choices, he waits for events to nudge him one way or another. His relationships feel less like partnerships and more like situations he simply falls into. There is no moment where he becomes assertive, surprising, or even particularly self-aware. His emotional life feels muted, and his indecision becomes a central part of his character.
I understand that Murakami uses these unremarkable narrators as neutral observers so the strangeness, melancholy, or psychological tension of the story can stand out more clearly. Still, as a reader, I often find the sameness tiring. The atmospheres remain compelling, but the protagonists feel too plain and too interchangeable to fully hold my investment.
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