It is painfully clear that these two short novels come from what Murakami describes as his "immature period." At times, these books read like the rantings of a sexually repressed high school boy with all the nuance you'd expect to find from one such youngster. The twinges of basic philosophy, alcohol fueled nonsense, and loose sexual encounters speak only to psuedo bohemian/intellectuals on the truths of an true artist.

In other words, these novels are bullshit. They show hints of who Murakami will eventually grow into with his later works, but also show a vulnerable and almost cringy peak into the past of one of the better surrealist contemporaries. However, the fact that these exist for the world to read show the growth one is able to make. Reading Wind/Pinball and something like Norwegian Wood or Kafka on the Shore show such a leap in skill and literary style it's almost hard to believe the same author penned all four.

A rating of a two might be a bit harsh, but this was certainly a difficult and jarring set of novels to get through. The few moments of clarity found only in Pinball, 1973 are simply not enough to make up for the atrocity that was Hear the Wind Sing (or honestly 95% of Pinball, 1973 for that matter).