Sumire is an aspiring writer who survives on a family stipend and the creative input of her only friend, the novel's male narrator and protagonist, known in the text only as 'K'.

This meeting and the ensuing relationship between the women leads to Sumire changing: she starts wearing nicer clothes, gets a better apartment, and quits smoking; however, she also develops a writer's block.

In her last letter, Sumire mentions that instead of coming home as originally planned, she and Miu are to spend some extra time on a Greek island vacationing.

K's new school year is starting the week after Miu's call, but finding Sumire's well-being more important, he leaves for Greece the next day.

She was trapped in a Ferris wheel overnight and, using her binoculars to see inside her nearby apartment, witnessed another version of herself having a disturbing sexual encounter with a man.

She tells him that her son – a boy nicknamed "Carrot" – had been caught stealing in a supermarket a few times, and she needs his help in order to convince the security guard to let him go without contacting the police.

The security guard is unhappy with both Carrot's lack of regret for his crime and K's outward appearance and manner, which he perceives to be one of an easy lifestyle.

[2] Kirkus Reviews wrote that "worlds of implication exfoliate from this stunning, beautifully structured novel: a moving depiction of the mystery of other people, ever capable of 'disappearing' into 'places' where we cannot, try as we may, follow them.

"[3] Publishers Weekly said, of the seventh translation to be provided to Murakami's English readership, "His latest offering breaks no new ground but is packaged in a striking manner and should attract a few newcomers.

"[4] Daniel Zalewski, in The New York Times, remarked on the book's tone: "At this more mature stage in his career, Murakami speaks in a subtler language, one that blankets the internal and external world with melancholy.

"[5] Julie Myerson, in The Guardian, said that Murakami "surely accomplishes the best, most unnerving job of fiction: to force you to look hard at the parts of yourself you never even suspected were there.

He is considerably less given to or adept at wisecracks, maintains a respectable and stable profession as a schoolteacher, and is less self-confident and much more introverted and conflicted than any other Murakami protagonist.

Many elements of the plot remain deliberately unresolved, contributing to the idea that true knowledge is elusive, and actual events of the story are obscured in favour of the characters' perceptions.