And here I thought I'd have nothing to say... again
It's The Thought That Counts
“On Meeting My 100 percent Woman One Fine April Morning,” by Haruki Murakami, is an unassuming short story about the regret that comes from not giving the perfect woman a gift of a story. Narrated from a first person perspective, as if on a whim, this story demonstrates that the true meaning of a gift is not how much it costs, or what the object is, but more the thought behind it. By creating this story, Murakami attempts to follow the Japanese way of gift giving and the art of zuihitsu, showing how a simple story, instead of being useless, can be one of the most valuable gifts of all.
In the traditional Japanese conception of gifts, it is the giver’s thought that counts and not the actual present itself that matters. This is why receivers will put aside their gifts until after the giver has taken their leave to see what is inside. Even if there is nothing but air under the bows and wrapping paper, the present would still be acknowledged as valuable, because it is a representation of the giver’s sentiment of goodwill towards the receiver. The story the narrator wishes he would have told the woman is just like one of these empty presents. The narrator describes his gift as a “sad story” about a boy and a girl who find their “100 percent perfect partner” only to not recognize them again when fate brings them together (26). This failed romance story would seem an odd choice to give to someone to initiate a conversation that one hopes might lead to something more. Even the narrator himself admits that his story has no content and is unrealistic. But even after all his self-disparagement, he still comes to the conclusion in the final line that his story is, “what I should have tried to tell her” (28). This is because the story, however unlikely, is the sum representation of all the narrator’s feelings toward his perfect woman; this is his heart mourning his situation and putting his raw pains and hopes into words that could most easily be given to his beloved- a gift straight from the heart.
The manner in which the narrator’s heart communicates his story can most easily be described as a variation of zuihitsu. Zuihitsu literally means “follow brash” or more to follow whatever comes to mind, like a sort of stream of consciousness. This natural process is something that can be seen in both the narrator’s gift-story and in the narration itself. In the gift-story, there is no character development or cohesion to the events. Even lacking these elements, the story still expresses the sad story sentiment the narrator was trying to relate, suggesting that the narrator was not thinking so much of the story, but of how best to communicate his sentiment to his perfect woman. In the narration, the narrator speaks of his encounter with his perfect woman, flowing from thought to thought about how his first encounter with her, what made her perfect, what he hoped might happen, how he would conduct his conversation, how she might react, his story, and ending with his regret at not giving her the story (23-28). While the subject matter the narrator recounts might all be related, the narrator combines past events with present happenings in a very asynchronous manner, supporting the fact that the emotions recounted are as true and deep felt as in the gift-story. Not once does the narrator second guess his feelings towards his perfect woman.
The narrator’s story as a gift, while definitely unconventional, nonetheless follows the Japanese conception of a gift, proving its sincerity through the narrator’s use of zuihitsu to relate his story. Like an ink painting which lacks multiple strokes to detail its image or a haiku poem which lacks multiple words to give a direct meaning, this story is an abbreviation of the deeper feelings the narrator harbors for his perfect woman. Perhaps the narrator is wrong claiming his own story as an irrelevant given that it is a gift straight from his heart, provided in a manner most true to his own thoughts.
“On Meeting My 100 percent Woman One Fine April Morning,” by Haruki Murakami, is an unassuming short story about the regret that comes from not giving the perfect woman a gift of a story. Narrated from a first person perspective, as if on a whim, this story demonstrates that the true meaning of a gift is not how much it costs, or what the object is, but more the thought behind it. By creating this story, Murakami attempts to follow the Japanese way of gift giving and the art of zuihitsu, showing how a simple story, instead of being useless, can be one of the most valuable gifts of all.
In the traditional Japanese conception of gifts, it is the giver’s thought that counts and not the actual present itself that matters. This is why receivers will put aside their gifts until after the giver has taken their leave to see what is inside. Even if there is nothing but air under the bows and wrapping paper, the present would still be acknowledged as valuable, because it is a representation of the giver’s sentiment of goodwill towards the receiver. The story the narrator wishes he would have told the woman is just like one of these empty presents. The narrator describes his gift as a “sad story” about a boy and a girl who find their “100 percent perfect partner” only to not recognize them again when fate brings them together (26). This failed romance story would seem an odd choice to give to someone to initiate a conversation that one hopes might lead to something more. Even the narrator himself admits that his story has no content and is unrealistic. But even after all his self-disparagement, he still comes to the conclusion in the final line that his story is, “what I should have tried to tell her” (28). This is because the story, however unlikely, is the sum representation of all the narrator’s feelings toward his perfect woman; this is his heart mourning his situation and putting his raw pains and hopes into words that could most easily be given to his beloved- a gift straight from the heart.
The manner in which the narrator’s heart communicates his story can most easily be described as a variation of zuihitsu. Zuihitsu literally means “follow brash” or more to follow whatever comes to mind, like a sort of stream of consciousness. This natural process is something that can be seen in both the narrator’s gift-story and in the narration itself. In the gift-story, there is no character development or cohesion to the events. Even lacking these elements, the story still expresses the sad story sentiment the narrator was trying to relate, suggesting that the narrator was not thinking so much of the story, but of how best to communicate his sentiment to his perfect woman. In the narration, the narrator speaks of his encounter with his perfect woman, flowing from thought to thought about how his first encounter with her, what made her perfect, what he hoped might happen, how he would conduct his conversation, how she might react, his story, and ending with his regret at not giving her the story (23-28). While the subject matter the narrator recounts might all be related, the narrator combines past events with present happenings in a very asynchronous manner, supporting the fact that the emotions recounted are as true and deep felt as in the gift-story. Not once does the narrator second guess his feelings towards his perfect woman.
The narrator’s story as a gift, while definitely unconventional, nonetheless follows the Japanese conception of a gift, proving its sincerity through the narrator’s use of zuihitsu to relate his story. Like an ink painting which lacks multiple strokes to detail its image or a haiku poem which lacks multiple words to give a direct meaning, this story is an abbreviation of the deeper feelings the narrator harbors for his perfect woman. Perhaps the narrator is wrong claiming his own story as an irrelevant given that it is a gift straight from his heart, provided in a manner most true to his own thoughts.