Reviews

I first read this book in 2017. I remember it being excessively depressing, oddly terrifying and exceptionally unique (It was, after all, the first Japanese classic I ever read).

With years of experience though, comes new, deeper perspectives. My second reading of the book had me showing deeper empathy for the main character and discovering a profane hope within the ending pages of the book. But how, you ask, could you feel empathy for an unreliable, womanizing, alcoholic, good-for-nothing lunatic? How is there any hope in this story at all?

Yozo is a deeply troubled man who cannot relate to other people, is constantly afraid of their judgement and expectations, therefore always wearing a mask, clowning to avoid being taken seriously and to be seen for who he truly is. He is one of the only instances of a character who is truly mentally-ill to a point of being dysfunctional. Yet his struggles with feeling like a failure, worrying about shame, and fearing other people’s judgements are deeply relatable to me.

Where is hope in this? Back in 2017 I would say the author “gets me”. It was a niche book, I found a single copy in a library in Istanbul. There weren’t many translations and they weren’t that good. I thought that this was a niche book that wouldn’t get popular because it is excessively depressing and deals with serious (like asylum levels of serious) mental health problems. However, seeing this book getting more and more popular, to a point where many of my non-reader friends have also heard or even read this book somehow, beings me an understanding. Maybe the author didn’t get me, but he got something that was far more universal, something that was an essential part of being human. Maybe Yozo wasn’t alone in his condition, and I am not as well.

As the book ends and Yozo gives up even trying to “be human”, he makes one last remark.

Everything passes.

Hearing these words come from someone who lived hell through his live to a point of looking decades older, this felt powerful. Even all of those, the rapes, the alcoholism, the poverty and constant fear and shame. They all pass. Maybe the first time I read it I haven’t lived life long enough to feel the weight of my past, or maybe it was just a shit translation. But the immense release of weight from my back as I read those lines was real nonetheless.

Summary: It’s a deeply insightful and depressing novel that is written in a simple but captivating prose that reflects the live of the author and ponders the many troubles of human condition. It is a book that takes something out of you but gives a meaningful understanding back and it’d be a crime for me to give it anything less than a perfect score.

Also go read the manga adaptation by Junji Ito or I’ll depict you as the Soyjack and me as the Chad in a meme and post it on group chat tschüüüüüss

dlltmar's review against another edition

Go to review page

emotional lighthearted reflective sad tense fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

poopierobroby's review against another edition

Go to review page

dark emotional sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

2.0

callmenora's review against another edition

Go to review page

2.0

you know how we always say “don’t read this book if you’re not in the right headspace” about depressing books? this is one of those books but i’m curious about something - will the book affect us as much if we read them when we’re 100% mentally stable? i kept this book on my tbr for years just so i could read it when i was in that right headspace but i feel like now it definitely impacted me way less than it would a few years ago. i can say this is a really raw look into osamu dazai’s brain and i felt really bad for all the women he encountered, but this didn’t leave a huge mark on me.

More...