The first encounter with the works of Haruki Murakami felt like being teleported into a dreamscape, heavily inspired by surrealism and exploring many psychological levels of human existence. Cult classics such as Kafka on the Shore, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and After Dark have found audiences from around the world drawn to the quiet solitude of these books, along with depictions of the fragile human psyche, magical realism and introspective male protagonists.
However, as a woman reading Murakami, a feeling of unease soon set in. A discomfort that comes from his portrayal of female characters. In many of Murakami’s works, female characters are located within the emotional and psychological complexity of the male protagonists. It’s disturbing how someone would view women as little more than aesthetic props. The reader cannot help but perceive women in Murakami’s stories only through the male gaze.
Hypersexualization and objectification
In a scene from The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Kreta Kano, the psychic, is involved in an act of sexual intimacy with Toru Okuda. In this scene he sits paralyzed by fellatio; This scene was intended to bring to life the fragility of the character Toru. However, the question arises: at what cost is this fragility portrayed?
Image credit: via Amazon and Penguin India
Many other female characters, even when their stories take center stage, are defined by their physical attributes. In 1Q84, for example, the protagonist’s character sketch emphasizes her physical appearance rather than her personality or interiority. This is in contrast to how Murakami sketches his male characters and reveals their inner worlds and emotional lives.
Other examples include “Norwegian Wood” and “Sputnik Sweetheart,” where the female characters exist to provide sexual satisfaction or act as catalysts for the male protagonists’ self-realization. And it does so by sacrificing female character development. This raises an important question for feminists: Can surrealism be used as a convenient literary cover to reproduce sexual fantasies for men?
Desai’s rebellious women versus Murakami’s submissive women
My quiet act of feminism is reading more female authors. It’s as if they can reach into those corners of my mind that have been influenced by patriarchy and plagued by anti-feminist narratives. When I read The Inheritance of Loss, it immediately followed The loneliness of Sonya and SunnyI realized that Desai’s novels carry the same undercurrent of surrealism, creating a dreamlike landscape that explores fragility and psychology.
Photo credit: via West End Lane Books and Goodreads
This time, however, the female characters have room to act. Unlike Murakami’s women, they have depth and are emotionally complex. In The Loneliness of Sonya and Sunny, women initially serve as narrative devices to help the male protagonists, but develop into independent characters and are able to be introspective and recognize patterns that threaten their integrity. You can learn to stand up for yourself and set boundaries with men.
A key example is the scene from The Loneliness of Sonya and Sunny in which Sonya’s father casually shames his wife and stereotypes married women with children. Later in this scene, Sonya’s mother reprimands her husband and questions his perception of women, silencing his sexist views on women for the rest of the book.
A key example is the scene from The Loneliness of Sonya and Sunny in which Sonya’s father casually shames his wife and stereotypes married women with children. Later in this scene, Sonya’s mother reprimands her husband and questions his perception of women, silencing his sexist views about women for the rest of the book.
And realizing her own worth, she decides to leave him, forcing him to face the emotional abuse he inflicted on the women of the family. Sonya herself ends a toxic relationship with Ilan, even though he manipulated him several times. And all of the female characters in Desai’s novel show strength without sacrificing their kindness.
Women are not a monolith
Treating women as monoliths isn’t just Murakami’s problem; Many male authors do the same. It’s a male-centric problem. The danger of male centrism is that it is so normalized in our society that even an acclaimed author like Murakami, who understands the human mind well, cannot ignore it. This is precisely why Desai’s works are insightful.
Desai’s books are characterized not only by their strong female characters, but also by their feminism.
Although Desai’s themes are similar, they are more comprehensive. Women in Desai’s fiction do not serve as vehicles for male transformation. Instead, Desai’s women have autonomy and exercise it loudly. And men don’t define their existence either.
Desai’s books are characterized not only by their strong female characters, but also by their feminism. Her characters show that literary ambiguity does not necessarily lead to women being erased or deprived of their freedom of choice. This is particularly necessary because it counters the idea, perpetuated by male-centered narratives in literature, that women can only exist if they are useful to the character arcs of the male protagonists.
Apart from being a teacher, reader and storyteller, Disha also writes to quiet the voices in her head. Writing was initially an act of survival for her, but today Disha writes about truth, curiosity and life and its possible meanings.
