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In bookstores in Japan, male writers’ and female writers’ works are often placed in separate corners, something you don’t see in bookstores abroad. Maybe there are some, but at least I’ve never seen them divided this way. I’ve given some thought to why they divide things like this, and came to the conclusion that perhaps women readers read more books by female writers while men readers read books by male writers. So it’s a question of convenience, placing the two groups in separate areas in a bookstore to make it easier for readers. When I think of my own reading habits, I realize I tend to read a few more books by male writers than by women writers, too, though not because I decide from the start I’ll read something just because it’s by a man. It just turns out that way. Of course there are a lot of women writers I enjoy. Among foreign writers I love Jane Austen and Carson McCullers. I’ve read all their books. I like Alice Munro, too, and I’ve translated several of Grace Paley’s works. So I get the feeling it’s wrong to have male and female writers’ works plunked down in separate areas of a bookstore. It’s just going to make the division of which works are read by which sex even more pronounced. Not that society’s going to listen to what I have to say about it.
As I mentioned a little earlier, readers of my works seem about equally divided between men and women. I haven’t compiled statistics to back this up, but through meeting and talking with readers, and through the email exchange I mentioned, I get the sense that my readers are about equally male and female. It’s true of Japan, and also seems true abroad. There’s a nice balance. I don’t know why it’s this way, but I get the feeling it’s something I should be genuinely pleased about. The world’s population is about half men and half women, so it’s a natural and healthy thing for my readers to be evenly split as well.
Once when I was talking with a young woman reader, she asked me, “Mr. Murakami, how is it that though you’re a man in your sixties, you understand young women’s feelings so well?” （Naturally, there are lots of people who don’t share this opinion; I’m just giving this as the opinion one reader had.） I’ve never thought that I have a good handle on young women’s feelings, so （truly） I was quite surprised to hear this. I would probably respond with something like, “As I write a story, I try very hard to put myself inside the characters, and gradually I might get a sense of what they’re feeling or thinking. But always just in a novelistic sense.”
In other words, as I move the characters around in the framework of the novel I get to understand these to a degree, but this is a bit different from understanding real-life young women. Unfortunately, I should say, when it comes to flesh-and-blood people, I don’t understand them so well. But still, knowing that flesh-and-blood young women—at least a certain segment of them—enjoy reading the novels I （an old guy in his mid-sixties） have written, and can feel sympathy for the characters that appear in them, makes me happier than anything. It almost feels miraculous.
I’m certainly not against there being books targeting male readers and others targeting female readers. Those kinds of books are definitely needed. But I hope that the books I write will arouse and move readers in the same way regardless of sex. And if lovers, groups of men and women, or married couples, children and parents, enthusiastically discuss my books together, nothing could please me more. I have always believed that novels, and stories, function to allay and blunt the sharp edges of all kinds of stereotypical sources of friction—friction between men and women, between the generations. Needless to say, that’s a wonderful function. I have a quiet hope that the novels I write can take on this sort of positive role, even a little, in our world.
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In a word—though it sounds a bit clichéd, and I hesitate to say it—I feel very strongly that ever since I debuted as a writer I’ve been blessed with readers. I seem to be repeating myself, but critically I was put in a difficult position for many years. Even within the publishing companies who published my books, there were often more editors who were critical of my work than those who supported it. Because of that I was always hearing critical comments and was treated coldly. It seems like all I’ve done is quietly kept on working, all by myself, despite the strong headwinds blowing against me （though there have been variations over time in their intensity）。
Even so, I’ve been able to soldier on without getting disheartened or depressed （though I admit to times when I feel worn out）， because readers have stayed with my works. Again, perhaps I’m not the one to say this, but these are high-quality readers. They don’t just say, finishing the book, “That was interesting” and toss it aside and forget about it; the majority of them ask themselves why they found it interesting, and go on to consider it all over again. And some of my readers—a not inconsiderable number—go on to reread the book. In some cases, they read it many times over several decades. Some will lend the book to close friends to get them to read it, and then discuss their opinions and impressions of the book together. Through all sorts of ways, then, they get a fuller understanding of the book and can corroborate their response to it. Countless readers have told me this. And each time I feel a deep sense of gratitude. Because for an author this is exactly the way the ideal type of reader should be. （That’s the way I used to read books myself, too, back when I was young.）