It was definitely a book that had been on my list of things to read, but because of my reading slump, I kept putting it off. I did everything I could to avoid spoilers. I knew it was sad, depressing! But I imagined something more along the lines of a drama, or one of those books that makes you grow attached to the characters—some example of that kind of book isn’t coming to mind right now. I wasn't expecting this kind of content at all.
And not only because what’s depicted in the book is destructive and bleak, but also because I’m not exactly doing great myself right now. Fuck it, Reddit is anonymous, so I can give some context. I’m unemployed despite having sent out a thousand resumes, I feel like I have no purpose, and sex—which used to feel intimate to me—has become so banal that I even disgust myself with the way I’ve conditioned myself into seeing it.
That’s the context behind why I said the book fucked me up. So, if you’re not in a particularly stable place with yourself right now, put the book off for a while until you’re feeling better. I’m not joking. I know it sounds exaggerated, but if you look at user reviews or comments about the book, you’ll find plenty of people expressing something similar.
The content of this book is malevolent, but not in the sense of being unfair or dark like some fictional drama might be. This particular book grabs you like a predator. There will probably be at least one thing in it that reminds you of something you’ve gone through or experienced, and watching Yozo deteriorate through that lens can eat away at your mind for many nights.
Anyway, enough talking about myself. I just wanted to get some of that out, and I ended up going on for way too long lol.
No Longer Human portrays Yozo’s life in a devastating and, in my opinion, almost mundane way. Not because Dazai fails at what he’s trying to accomplish, but because he succeeds so well that you find yourself wanting to yell at the protagonist: Why the fuck don't you care about this? Why don't you say what you're feeling? Stop doing that. And so many other “Why?”s and “Stop!”s.
Yozo had already been abused as a child, even though he himself downplayed the significance of that abuse. That was the starting point of his downfall. From that moment on, I knew that reading this book was going to feel like swallowing hot water.
Complacent, hypocritical, selfish, misogynistic, and addicted, on top of being depressed—that describes both the protagonist and the story itself. The first part establishes the context for what’s going to happen later, but it’s hardly a moment of calm. You can already tell that everything is rotten. However, you might not realize just how rotten everything is until you reach the double suicide.
From there, and throughout the rest of the third part, it becomes a downward spiral where you stop being able to imagine how things could possibly get worse—and then they do.
I used to think that if I were in Yozo’s shoes, I would have stayed with the widow. But no. If I were actually Yozo, I probably would have fucked everything up too, just to avoid feeling even more pathetic. He wasted every opportunity he had to save himself because he felt like he didn't belong, but also because he had reached a point where nothing seemed to make sense anymore and he no longer felt in control.
The abuse of Yoshiko is the final blow—the thing you were already warned about, but you still aren't prepared for just how absurd and horrifying it is. His friend was a complete fucking asshole and an opportunist right until the very end, essentially an antagonist.
A lot of people theorize that what happened with his wife was actually an affair, but no, I don't think that's what it was. She began to fear him and distrust everything around her. That doesn't just come from an affair; it comes from trauma. And Yozo, who was already a corpse with no soul left in him, ended up losing himself completely.
The book gives you no break from the second part onward. Every line you read feels like you're reading something you're not supposed to be reading. The book's reputation is completely deserved, and it's an essential read—not because of the morbid curiosity, and not simply because you might identify with some aspect of it, although you probably will, but because it lets you see the point at which a person loses control of their life, their soul, and their heart. Maybe, by seeing that, you can reflect on the point at which you yourself can choose to feel human again.
Osamu Dazai did an incredible job with that.
And I wasn't exaggerating when I said what I did at the beginning. Depending on how much you can stomach, this can either be a relatively easy read or an incredibly heavy one. It also depends on your current emotional state.
But do yourself a favor—and I'll emphasize this again: if you're seriously depressed, don't read it. If you're doing great, or you're simply feeling a little lost and want to find your way back to yourself, then you can probably read it. There's a lot to reflect on here.
By the way, I find the final line of the book just as impactful and heartbreaking as everything else that happens:
«“The Yozo we knew was so easy-going and amusing, and if only he hadn't drunk—no, even though he did drink—he was a good boy, an angel.”»
Maybe we forget that, in our own eyes, we can seem like something completely disgusting, while to everyone else, we're something much more precious.
That's something worth keeping in mind.
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