The Little Green Me

 Hello Class, 

Today I have been thinking a lot about what the little green monster is. While I am still unsure,
I think I have a pretty good theory, or at least a theory that I like. Lets start at the beginning,
our narrator talks about one of the most important parts of her childhood, the tree she planted
as a young girl. She calls it her 'special favorite' and an 'old friend', this obviously gives an
insight later in the story to the origin of the little green monster. It made me think that the little
green monster has been there, possibly growing, possibly digging up the whole time. Either
way, the little green monster seems to be something from her childhood. The feminist reading
from class says that the monster is freedom, but I think that it is more connected to our narrator
than simply her repressed thoughts of freedom. The little green monster is all of her darkest,
most undesirable traits. These traits are things that she has been repressing and trying to hide
since childhood. Whether it was her malicious thoughts, cruel actions, or even physical
features she didn't like. 

This theory also lends itself to justifying the immense cruelty that our narrator shows to the little
green monster. You might ask why the little green monster would confess its love, but in reality
that is a fairly simple question. The worst part about anyone's worst qualities is that they are so
hard to get rid of. Bad habits are habitual, they help you cope in negative ways, release stress in
a harmful manner, and more. It only makes sense the manifestation of these habits would love 
you and want to stay with you forever.

That completes my theory.

- Raul Valles III

Thoughts on the Article and "Little Green Monster" - Katherine

 I felt like Murakami's response, while not dismissive, was revealing in its defensiveness. It felt like trying to seem open-minded, while still admitting to a lack of understanding, constituted a sort of evasion or an unwillingness to address the issues brought forth, other than saying that he sees there is nothing wrong with his works. He acknowledged the critique, noted that he writes from what he knows, and suggested that his female characters are idealized because that is how his male narrators see them. That explains why the roles that women play differ so drastically when they are told from different points of view in the story. In many of his novels, Murakami's women cluster around certain archetypes. As we discussed in class, that is certainly true of his male characters as well, and from the assigned reading on gay men in Murakami's works, it seems like a pattern for his mind to congregate on certain archetypes for certain genders and sexualities. So to be fair, this quirk of his does not just seem to land on women. Noting down some of the types of women commonly found in the story, we have the unattainable woman from the past, like Naoko, the warm, sexually forthcoming woman of the present, like Midori, and the mysterious, dangerous woman, like the girl who seduced Reiko. These types of characters are all defined by their relation to the male character, as if their existence, emotions, thoughts, and actions fall neatly in place according to their designated roles once he enters their lives. They are not entirely one-dimensional, and many are certainly interesting characters, but I feel like Murakami's works, in which women may have sex but are not romantic or sexual interests, represent their interiority better. 

Unrelated, but what I found interesting is that "The Little Green Monster" becomes two completely different stories depending on your interpretation. If we read it as a story of refusing unwanted advances, it becomes a story of a woman asserting her autonomy, confidence, and standing firm even in the face of a pitiful, grotesque sight. It could even be read as empowering in this way, and her actions could be interpreted as assertive, not cruel. If we read it as a story about a woman extinguishing the part of her that wants to be free from domesticity, then it becomes a tragic, stultifying story of a person trapped by fears and convention. Arguably, cruelty towards oneself is easier to do and has a stronger impact than cruelty towards others. I have still not decided which makes more sense to me.

Sleep and the need for breaks from routine - Bradley

 Haruki Murakami’s story Sleep explores the fragile boundary between routine life and personal awakening. The story follows a woman who finds herself unable to fall asleep for seventeen consecutive days. Instead of suffering, she becomes energized and has a new keen awareness of how she feels about her life. Murakami uses this insomnia as a metaphor for consciousness itself. Without the constraints of nightly rest the protagonist begins to reclaim lost parts of her identity that had been dulled by domestic routine; she reads works such as Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, drinks brandy, eats chocolate, and starts to develop an appreciation of her independence. The stillness of nighttime offers her a private space untouched by the expectations of her roles as wife and mother. Yet, beneath this newfound clarity lies a growing feeling of unease and resentment for her current situation. Murakami subtly shifts the tone from introspective to unsettling, leaving readers questioning whether her sleepless state is a gift or a descent into instability. Ultimately, Sleep is a reflection on identity, autonomy, and the hidden dissatisfaction that can exist within ordinary life. Murakami suggests that awakening, whether literal or metaphorical, can be both exhilarating and dangerous, revealing truths that are difficult to confront.

A Lack of Self-Reflection - Thomas Weber

 Reading the stories assigned for today after having read the interview was a very different experience than I expected. I have to say, I was not particularly impressed with Murakami's self-reflection on his representation of women in literature and found his views to be, in my own terms, a big ol "nothing-burger." What I mean by this is that I did not feel that he truly engaged with Kawakami's critiques, instead retiring to a weak idea of "writing human characters." This de-legitimizes his portrayal of women to me as it ignores a dimension of his writing that is so often to his thought process. Whilst one is free to think however they may, I find it almost slightly disingenuous to say that one writes without taking gender into account and then make constant reference to the "role" of men and women and their complementary nature. I do find it interesting that Murakami described the woman as being scary in the story about the green monster entering her home, finding the comment to be somewhat vindictive towards women. To me, whilst what happened in the story is somewhat gruesome, it was less about being scary and more about a woman's agency. Potentially even linking to ideas of rape and consent. In the end, I believe that Murakami may have been a bit dismissive of Kawakami's comments.

Overall, whilst I like Murakami from a literary perspective and find him to be a great writer, I do tend to prefer authors with a bit more gender and theme sensitivity like Banana Yoshimoto and Kawakami.

Intention vs. Execution in Writing a Female Character -Alexia

In the interview between Kawakami and Murakami, I found their brief discussion on "The Little Green Monster" interesting. Murakami is surprised that women enjoy reading it, when he meant to portray the female narrator as scary and cruel. I agree with Kawakami in that she did not come off as particularly scary, but there was a familiar sense to her character. I think "The Little Green Monster" could almost be interpreted as some type of attempted sexual assault. A green monster enters a woman’s home, unexpected and uninvited, and tries to force a marriage proposal on her. The "marriage proposal” could very well be a euphemism for an unwanted sexual advance. While we know that this is not the case after reading the interview, it could still be an interpretation that unfortunately many women relate to. Additionally, it could also be viewed that the woman was standing up for herself, especially when she seemed to be torturing the monster with her mind. This could be another reason that women find this story enjoyable to read, because it is refreshing to see a woman stand up for herself instead of being submissive to a man’s desires. However, learning that Murakami’s intention was for the woman to be scary is particularly unsettling. Despite his intentions, this suggests that when women advocate for themselves, they are seen as cruel, rather than justified. Subsequently, this makes me wonder what this story would have been like if told from a man’s perspective. Would Murakami still view the narrator as scary, or would his interpretation change? And would he be equally surprised if men found the story enjoyable to read?

Similarities Between Gregor Samsa and “Watashi” in Sleep- Carly

After reading The Metamorphosis and Sleep, I found that I interpreted both stories as being about repression rather than typical depression. In The Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa was the breadwinner of his family because of his father’s failed business and his mother's inability to work. It is undeniable that Gregor lived a dull life, with a grueling job, but he accepted his role and played it well. He even planned for the future, hoping to send his sister to the conservatory so she could pursue the violin. This hope seemed to keep him going. It seems that Gregor’s parents placed him in the role of the caretaker for his family, and he was expected to fulfil it without question. This becomes even clearer when the family becomes disgusted with Gregor once he is no longer able to work and perform this role. Their attitude is finally solidified when the parents discuss Grete’s prospects and think about marrying her off,  revealing the strict expectations the parents envisioned for their children. This theme of repression appears again in Samsa in Love. When Gregor asks the locksmith if they can meet again, he allows himself to experience human emotions. Unlike in The Metamorphosis, where Gregor never got to choose the person he wanted to be, this version of himself shows how having the ability to choose makes him more human. 

In Sleep, Watashi wakes up from the dream with the man pouring water on her feet. I feel like Watashi waking up from this dream prematurely prevented her from seeing whatever she had been repressing. Her body’s only way of forcing her to confront what she didn’t want to see was to stop letting her sleep. Up until this point, Watashi also fulfilled her role well. She was a mother and wife; she maintained the house when her husband and son were away, and she took care of her son when he returned. However, throughout the story, it becomes clear that Watashi has changed in ways she never intended since taking on her role, and she had been ignoring this. Watashi briefly mentions how she stopped seeing her husband as her protector, yet even after admitting that, she still jokes with him and stops eating chocolate simply because he is a dentist. These disconnections with her mind and her actions show how she suppressed herself in order to maintain the image of a “good housewife.” 

In both The Metamorphosis and Sleep, Gregor and Watashi live on autopilot, carrying out their roles as the breadwinner and the housewife. Neither expresses their worries to anyone around them; instead, they are both pushed out of their daily routines by forces they cannot control. Gregor had to transform into a bug so he could stop performing the role he never chose. Watashi had to stop sleeping to regain the parts of herself she let slip away as she sank further into her assigned role.  

intimacy feels distant

Murakami’s portrayal of women often feels convincing at first, but as you keep reading, a certain distance begins to show. In Sleep, for example, the narrator speaks in a calm, controlled tone, describing the dull rhythm of daily life and a quiet sense of awakening. The details are sharp and believable, yet it still feels like the voice is being watched from the outside rather than fully lived from within. This sense of distance also appears in the way he writes relationships and marriage. His couples don’t usually fall apart in dramatic ways. They share the same space and routines, but never fully reach each other. Nothing is openly broken, but something is always missing. In The Ice Man, this becomes more obvious. The relationship feels gentle on the surface, but there is an imbalance that never goes away. The woman accepts a kind of emotional coldness that she cannot really touch or change. In The Little Green Monster, the strangeness is more direct. The encounter with the creature feels absurd at first, but gradually it reads more like something internal, tied to desire or fear that has no clear way of being expressed. 

Across these works, Murakami doesn’t treat marriage as a stable or comforting structure. It feels more like a quiet space where loneliness grows, just in a less visible way.

- Wendy