Tanimura is the narrator of both “Yesterday” and “An Independent Organ,” though he only relates his own experiences in “Yesterday.” In this story, he enters into a sort of love triangle with his friend Kitaru and Kitaru’s former girlfriend, Erika. Kitaru and Erika are vastly different people in different places in their lives, and Tanimura cannot help but wonder why they are together: “I admit I was interested in the idea of meeting Erika. I also wanted to find out why a beautiful girl like her would want to go out with a weird character like Kitaru. I’ve always been a little shy around new people, but I never lack curiosity” (53). In “Yesterday,” Tanimura is young and inexperienced in love, and looks to Kitaru and Erika as though they are experts. In meeting Erika, Tanimura learns more about Kitaru and the nature of their relationship.

As an adult, Tanimura meets Erika again, by chance. As they catch up, he learns about Kitaru’s travels and unique career path, though he and Erika did break up. This prompts him to reflect on who he was at the time he initially knew Kitaru and Erika, and realizes that he was unhappy and lonely: “For the most part, I remained hidden away, deep within myself. Sometimes I’d go a week without talking to anybody. That kind of life continued for a year […] Whether this period was a cold winter that left valuable growth rings inside me, I can’t really say” (76). Tanimura did learn a lot from Kitaru and Erika, though he is not sure that they truly influenced him.

Tokai is the protagonist of “An Independent Organ,” his story narrated by Tanimura, who knows him as an adult. At the beginning of the story, Tokai is a bachelor who dates women with ease, though none lead to serious romance. He is a skilled secondary partner in the lives of married and partnered women and does not seek out love. His approach to women reflects the notion that he does not want love, and tends to take a detached, clinical view of women: “[H]e wasn’t that particular about a woman’s physical appearance. As long as there wasn’t some major flaw that aroused his professional interest, and as long as her looks weren’t so boring as to make him yawn, that was enough” (81). Tokai is a shallow man, choosing women based on their looks and their ability to entertain him. This complements his lifestyle, however, as he does not care when one relationship ends and another begins, as his attachment to these women is not emotional. By approaching dating in this way, Tokai avoids heartbreak.

Despite his efforts to stay away from love, Tokai eventually does fall for a woman, and when she leaves him, he suffers greatly. He is a dynamic character in the sense that love completely changes the nature of his character and his relationship to the world around him: “[H]e fell so desperately, hopelessly in love that he could no longer even eat, that he stepped into a completely new world, saw things he’d never before witnessed, and eventually drove himself to death […] he was erasing himself” (112). The love consumes Tokai, and he realizes that this is dangerous. After so long of not caring about love or attachment, a broken heart is ironically the cause of his death.

Habara, the narrator of “Scheherazade,” never leaves his home and does not mind solitude. His only connection to the outside world is the woman who brings his groceries and has sex with him, whom he dubs Scheherazade for her tendency to tell enthralling stories. In fact, these stories draw him in so much that he fears losing them. He considers how his experience with solitude prepares him for this possibility, though it will be painful: “I am not stranded on a desert island. No, he thought, I am a desert island. If he could fully grasp that concept, he could deal with whatever lay ahead. He had always been comfortable being by himself” (118). 

Through Scheherazade, Habara learns about obsessive love. He also considers her prospect of remembering past lives. She claims that she can remember being a lamprey and the peace and simplicity of that existence. The more time Habara spends with Scheherazade, the more he finds a special intimacy with her. This conflicts with his feelings of isolation, and he fears losing it if Scheherazade leaves. Once Scheherazade finishes her story, Habara imagines himself as a lamprey: “He imagined that he was one of them, waiting for a trout to appear. But no trout passed by, no matter how long he waited […] Eventually the sun went down, and his surroundings were enfolded in deep darkness” (145). Despite Habara’s desire for intimacy, he cannot bring himself to seek it out apart from Scheherazade and within his home. In imagining himself as a lamprey, loneliness and isolation still dominate his existence. He proves to be a fairly static character, unable to imagine a different life.

Kino is the protagonist of the story bearing his name, and like Kafuku, he experiences the fallout of a love affair. Like Kafuku, he is initially conflicted about it, not experiencing the emotions he should feel. Instead of feeling angry or betrayed, he finds that he does not feel much of anything towards his wife or coworker: “[H]e felt no anger or bitterness toward his wife, or the colleague she was sleeping with. The betrayal had been a shock, for sure, but, as time passed, he began to feel as if it couldn’t have been helped” (153). He does not allow himself to fully process the betrayal, instead just moving on. He does not want to feel any pain, so he refuses to truly acknowledge his heart.

Despite his initial reluctance to process his emotions, Kino is a dynamic character. In the end, forced to take a journey away from his bar and the life he built in the aftermath of the affair, Kino finally confronts his heart. In the middle of the night, Kino hears knocking around his hotel room and even feels a comforting hand on his own. In this moment, Kino finally allows himself to feel his emotions: “In a small dark room, somewhere inside Kino, a warm hand was reaching out to him. Eyes shut, he felt that hand on his, soft and substantial […] Yes, I am hurt. Very, very deeply. He said this to himself. And he wept. In that dark, still room” (185). After a long time of showing no emotion and acting as though nothing matters, Kino finally allows the betrayal to overtake him. He feels the pain and is comforted. His refusal to do this before reflects the theme of The Relationship Between Masculinity and Emotional Unavailability, as he preferred numbness to healing.

In “Samsa in Love,” Murakami imagines an inverse of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. In this story, the protagonist wakes up as Gregor Samsa in an empty room inside an empty house. The protagonist wakes as a human for the first time, having been a bug before. Murakami explores this traumatic transformation through Samsa’s critical assessment of his new body: “Samsa looked down in dismay at his naked body. How ill-formed it was! Worse than ill-formed. It possessed no means of self-defense. Smooth white skin […] with fragile blue blood vessels visible through it” (189). Samsa sees the human body as weak and inefficient. Unlike the body of a bug, with an exoskeleton that protects it, the human body is soft and fleshy, with many points of weakness and an odd build. Samsa slowly learns how to move this new body, not understanding the coordination of his limbs. 

Despite his dissatisfaction and confusion, love defines Samsa’s new life. When the hunchbacked woman arrives to fix a lock, Samsa finds himself, confusingly and immediately, attracted to her. Unsure of how his new body works, Samsa is surprised to get an erection, which is obvious to the woman and symbolizes his body’s independence from his mind. His body is not the only aspect of Samsa’s being to react, however, as he also finds himself thinking of her: “Just thinking about her made him warm inside. No longer did he wish to be a fish or a sunflower—or anything else, for that matter. For sure, it was a great inconvenience to have to walk on two legs” (211). The thought of the woman fills Samsa with warmth, and he begins to understand why being human is worthwhile, even if their bodies are inefficient and weak. Samsa is dynamic as he stops wishing to be something and accepts being human, and the love that comes with it.

The final story of the collection provides the title for the entire collection and is narrated by an unnamed protagonist. This man learns in the middle of the night to learn that a former girlfriend of his died. Her husband makes the call, and the narrator is confused as to why the husband knows about him or tells him. The news of the loss crushes the protagonist, and he considers how the loss cultivates loneliness within him: “I already know what it is to be the second-loneliest man on earth. But I still don’t know what it is to be the loneliest. A deep gulf separates the second and the first loneliest on earth” (220). He commiserates with his former girlfriend’s husband, recognizing that he must be even lonelier, having lost a wife. The narrator feels the loss, though at a distance, as his relationship with the woman is years in the past. Despite the time, he finds that this loss marks a pivotal moment in his life.

The narrator now considers himself to be a man without women, the loss of his former girlfriend marking the schism. His relationship with her marked the height of romance in his life, and now that she is gone, he loses everything associated with her and will struggle with his relationships with other women. Knowing that his life will be different now, he considers his former girlfriend and hopes that she is happy, and that any afterlife plays the music she loves that he now loses: “As one of the Men Without Women, I pray for this with all my heart. At this point, prayer seems like the only thing I can do. Probably” (228). The narrator feels lost in the aftermath of the phone call. The loss of his former girlfriend forces him to reexamine his life and her role in it.

Misaki is a secondary character in the story “Drive My Car,” and is the chauffeur of Kafuku as well as his audience for the story of his marriage. Misaki is described as someone who does not adhere to typical gender stereotypes: “She’s brusque, shoots from the hip when she talks, which isn’t often. And she smokes like a chimney […] You’ll see for yourself when you meet her, but she’s not what you’d call cute, either. Almost never smiles, and she’s a bit homely, to be honest” (5). Her attitude makes it easier for Kafuku to share his story with her and not feel any romantic pressure. 

Additionally, she is characterized largely by her driving, which is described as smooth and professional. Her driving helps Kafuku to find peace and calm while they drive: “Kafuku settled back in the leather seat, closed his eyes, and tried to focus his mind on the sound of the engine when Misaki shifted gears. But he couldn’t catch the precise moment. It was all too smooth, too mysterious” (40). Misaki’s driving is too seamless for Kafuku to notice the gears shifting, adding to the mystique of her character. In this way, she acts as a sort of guide for Kafuku, giving him the necessary space and environment to process his emotions.

Kitaru is the friend of Tanimura in “Yesterday.” Kitaru largely acts as a foil to Tanimura in both simple and complex ways. At a surface level, their identities appear as inverses to each other: “Kitaru had an almost pitch-perfect Kansai accent, even though he was born and raised in Denenchofu, in Ota-ku, in Tokyo. As for me, although I was born and raised in Kansai, I spoke almost perfect standard (that is, Tokyo-style) Japanese” (42). Each speaks the dialect that the other should, with both now speaking in the dialect originating from where the other was raised. 

As the story progresses and Kitaru shares with Tanimura that his relationship with Erika is suffering, he suggests that Tanimura date Erika instead. Kitaru’s reasoning for this is that Tanimura is a good guy who would treat Erika well: “That didn’t explain anything. What kind of relationship could there possibly be between me being a good guy (assuming this was the case) and me going out with his girlfriend?” (51). What Tanimura does not initially realize is that Kitaru suggests that Tanimura date Erika because he sees Tanimura as his foil, capable of giving Erika everything that Kitaru cannot.