There are feverish visions that lead to life-altering consequences, hypnotic dreams, and, of course, inexplicable disappearances. Here in classic Murakami fashion things take a surreal route, as the line between dreams and reality becomes increasingly blurry.
Although Miu tells him of the events that led to Sumire’s ‘vanishing’, the two struggle to make sense of what led Sumire to just disappear. During a work trip to an island on the coast of Greece Sumire disappears. As Sumire begins to work for Miu, her feelings intensify to the point where she is no longer able to contain her emotions. Sumire begins to act in a way that Miu approves of, changing her style etc. K is disappointed to learn that he is not the person in question and that Sumire has fallen for Miu, an older businesswoman of Korean heritage. Eventually, Sumire reveals to him that for the first time in her life she has fallen in love. Anyway, K gives us an impression of what kind of person Sumire is, her somewhat skewed worldview, and speaks of her writerly aspirations. He often recounts Sumire’s experiences from her point of view, which obviously necessitates our suspension of disbelief, given that he would really have no way of being able to provide such detailed descriptions of her experiences, let alone her inner feelings. She often confides in K about her fears and desire, and he takes on the role of listener, never revealing anything particularly substantial about himself, keeping readers and Sumire at arm’s length. She’s messy and in the throes of an existentialist crisis. When we first meet him he is a college student who has fallen in love with Sumire, who is very much the classic Murakami female character, in that she’s Not Like Other Girls. Anyway, we are stuck with K and his creepy male gaze. I mean, I honestly think this could have been a much stronger novel if the narrative had alternated between Sumire and Miu.
While K acknowledges that it may be unusual for him to tell Sumire’s love story, he doesn’t provide a particularly satisfying answer. That he chooses to tell their story through ‘K’, our male straight narrator, is also somewhat iffy. It often went from being slightly ridiculous to straight-up ludicrous.
I cringed many times while reading Sputnik Sweetheart: his portrayal of the romantic/sexual relationship between Sumire and Miu, the two women at the centre of the narrative, was yikes. The main reason why I do not get on with his work is that, well, his women are on a league of their own when it comes to female characters written by male authors. Over the last couple of months, I have picked up several of his short story collections but never felt compelled to finish them. It would be safe to say that I do have a bit of an uneasy relationship with Murakami’s work.
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