I think one thing that sets Murakami apart is the earnest simplicity of his writing. His writing seemingly doesn't attempt to manipulate the reader, and it doesn't seem to aim beyond high school English in complexity. It's workmanlike, unaffected, and personal. To me, it brings to mind John Williams (Stoner) and Karl Ove Knausgaard (who is admittedly a much more capable prose stylist).
In his earlier works, the simplicity feels a bit... simple. But in hi later, more mature works, he doesn't shy away from going into detail about the sheer mundaneness of living. I haven't read 1Q84, but the first book to really deserve the stereotype of Murakami as being about single guys with cats lounging about in empty apartments while waiting for the pasta to boil is The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, the core theme of which is figuring out reality, and by the extension, life. It's a work where the economy of style meets an economy of plot (even though it's actually a complex plot!) perfectly, and it's a masterpiece.
I've never been to Japan, but I find his other concerns you mention — isolation and so on — to be just as relevant in other social-democratic cultures (perhaps the US less so).
For text in Japanese I only read a few pages in class and during exam and that wasn't relevant to my interest either: the style is flat and he use to many loan words from English. Up to that point I wonder where his success come from because I really don't get the appeal of his work (from what I read).
I talked a lot about that idea of "exploring" vs. "plot" and what makes him so refreshing.
If you haven't read a Murakami I suggest starting with Sputnik Sweetheart first.
I started with A Wild Sheep Chase and thought that was a good start point. Also his book of short stories, The Elephant Vanishes, would be quite a nice intro if you prefer shorter stuff, I think.
When I first read Murakami, I had mixed feelings. I struggled to relate with his characters; their outlook on the world seemed so alien compared to mine. I also was frustrated that "nothing happened". His writing seemed much more driven by the underlying emotion of the narrative ("foreboding" is the best description that comes to mind) than plot.
However, when I traveled to Tokyo for the first time I realized that the feelings that I had reading his novels captured the essence of the city - the sense of duty, the isolation, the assertion of individuality in a place that epitomizes collectivism. His writing provided a window into a worldview that could not have been more different from my own.
I'm glad to have run across this article; I'll add these other authors to my reading list.