In this blog post, we’ll examine the protagonist Yōzō’s anguish and wanderings through Osamu Dazai’s masterpiece ‘No Longer Human’, as well as the themes of innocence, faith, and the turmoil of the era embedded in the work, to explore why this novel continues to be read to this day.
‘No Longer Human’ is Osamu Dazai’s posthumous work, which continues to be read and discussed consistently even now, more than 70 years after its publication. The work was serialized in three parts in the magazine ‘Tenbo’ in 1948 and later published alongside the short story collection ‘Goodbye’. However, one month after the serialization concluded, Dazai took his own life by throwing himself into the upper reaches of the Tama River. Like the characters in his work, he had attempted suicide numerous times before finally bringing his life to an end. He was 39 years old.
The work consists of a preface and afterword written by an unnamed narrator, as well as three diaries narrated in the first person by a character named “Yōjō.” In other words, there are two narrators: the “I” who first appears and the “I” in the diaries that form the core of the work.
The first diary details the “I”’s childhood and family background, while the second depicts his life as a young adult—his failure to adapt to society, his subsequent wandering, and his descent into drug dependence. The third diary entry depicts the protagonist’s later years, during which, unable to overcome his confusion and emotional turmoil, he experiences marriage and a shocking incident, ultimately becoming a wreck due to drug addiction. At the very end of the work, the narrator “I” who opened the story reappears, followed by an afterword in which he objectively reflects on the protagonist of the diaries.
If Dazai had written ‘No Longer Human’ purely as an autobiographical novel, with the sole purpose of confessing his own mental turmoil and anguish, there would have been no need to include two distinct “I”s. Furthermore, if he had been completely unconcerned with how people would evaluate or interpret his work after his death, the dialogue between the objective narrator “I” and “Madame” might not have been necessary either. This was not his first attempt at suicide, and it appears he was already contemplating death even while writing the novel. Therefore, I cautiously wonder if, even as he confessed to being “No Longer Human,” he sought to convey through another voice that the image he presented was not the whole truth.
What struck me most while reading this work was its unique structure and style of expression. The sections that describe characters, events, and the narrative in a thoroughly objective manner, free from emotional involvement, stand in stark contrast to the narrative in the diary entries, where reason and self-control have all but vanished. This contrast brings into sharper relief the chaotic society and harsh reality of the time, as well as the psychology of the people caught up in that maelstrom.
This technique of contrast is also evident in the writing style that permeates the entire work. In particular, the use of extremely long sentences—where multiple clauses flow together without a period—makes for a challenging read, yet it effectively conveys the characters’ chaotic and disorganized inner worlds. Furthermore, it indirectly reveals a lack of understanding regarding the circumstances and interpersonal relationships of the time, as well as unstable emotions, drawing the reader into that same sense of unease. In contrast, the expression in which he resolutely and succinctly defines himself as “a man, disqualified” feels like the moment when the ceaseless monologue of confusion suddenly comes to a halt. This sentence, which asserts his situation without further explanation, masterfully utilizes the rhythm of long and short sentences to alternately build and release the reader’s tension. Rarely has a work evoked such a subtle range of emotions throughout the reading experience.
To understand the confusion and instability that dominated the protagonist’s life, as well as his extreme behavior—including repeated attempts at suicide alongside various women—it is necessary to examine the historical context of the time. Otherwise, this work might be read merely as the lament of a weak intellectual or the excuse of a social misfit.
Yōzō, the protagonist of the memoir, is the youngest child in a large family born to a father who was a major landowner. Although he lacked for nothing financially, his passive and withdrawn personality prevented him from properly expressing his own will, and he grew up constantly worrying about what others thought of him. He later spent his student years living alone in Tokyo. At that time, democracy had not yet fully taken root in Japanese society, and Marxist ideas were spreading among intellectuals. Furthermore, following Japan’s defeat in World War II, the aristocracy had their property confiscated, and as an economic depression set in, society as a whole was plunged into extreme turmoil.
Yōzō had relied on financial support from his father, a member of the privileged class, but this support was eventually cut off due to his dropping out of school, romantic entanglements, and suicide attempts. The resulting financial pressure further exacerbated his psychological anxiety. To escape this anxiety, he relies on women who pity him and turns to alcohol and drugs.
Furthermore, the “I” in the memoir symbolizes the masses who were sacrificed amid the prevailing trends of the era—which prioritized “ideology” and “the state” while turning its back on its contemporaries. Ultimately, unable to find an escape from his circumstances, he sinks deeper and deeper into a quagmire and meets a tragic end.
Of course, Yōzō shows almost no sign of accepting or compromising with his reality. However, when examining Dazai’s entire body of work, he cannot be completely identified with Yōzō. Many readers interpret Yōzō as Dazai himself, and some ardent readers even identify Dazai with themselves. Yet Dazai was more of a writer who sought to criticize and expose society by capturing the landscape of his era and the struggles of anguished young people in his works.
If Dazai had projected his self-loathing and disillusionment onto a character, Uehara from ‘Sayonara’ might be a closer match than Yōjō from ‘No Longer Human’.
So what was Dazai’s true intention in writing ‘No Longer Human’? Was it an indictment of a chaotic society, or was it to depict the anguish of a young man who could not find harmony with his era?
Yojō’s desperate cries appear throughout the work.
Truth.
Purity.
Faith.
Non-resistance.
However, the “human purity” that Yojō had longed for his entire life is shattered in a devastating manner. He sincerely loved an innocent bride, but after witnessing her being raped, he experienced his faith and values shatter into pieces. Desperate to find solace in alcohol or escape reality through drugs, he finally lets out a heart-wrenching cry.
“Is trust a sin?”
“Is innocent trust the source of sin?”
“Is nonresistance a sin?”
A wreck.
This word feels, perhaps, more like a noun from a comedy than a tragedy. It is a term imbued with a powerless, resigned laugh. In a world rife with chaos, lies, and strife, Yōjō—who yearned for purity—ultimately defines himself as a “wreck,” a being unfit to be human.
The reason this work is still read and discussed today is likely because the discord and conflict experienced by humans transcend time. And yet, despite everything, humans continue to live, clinging to the values and hopes they wish to hold onto until the very end.
“Purity” and “faith.”
Were these not the flames burning deep within Osamu Dazai’s soul—flames he could not let go of, even after they had been shattered, crushed, and disregarded countless times?
