In this blog post, I’ll reflect on human destiny, love, the meaning of suffering, and the life of the modern individual as revealed through reading Mori Ogai’s works, including “The Wild Geese.”

Reflections on Mori Ōgai

Mori Ōgai is revered, alongside Natsume Sōseki, as one of the two giants of modern Japanese literature, yet he has not been widely introduced in Korea. Unlike Sōseki, who worked as a full-time writer and left behind a large body of work, Ōgai worked as a military doctor and wrote in his spare time, so he was unable to produce many novels that required a long writing process. Although the collected works of Ōgai, published posthumously, are extensive—comprising 15 volumes—when comparing the number of volumes of novels published by the Shinjo Bunko series in Japan, Sōseki’s total is 17, while Ōgai’s is only 4.
However, this does not mean that Ōgai’s influence on modern Japanese literature was insignificant. Ogai was active in various fields beyond fiction and had a profound influence on the development of modern Japanese literature. The translated poetry collection ‘Omokage’, published in collaboration with fellow writers, caused a sensation in the poetry world at the time and contributed to the development of modern poetry; he also translated and introduced many works to Japan, including Andersen’s ‘The Improvisatore’ and Goethe’s ‘Faust’. He founded the magazine ‘Shigarami-joshi’ and engaged in active critical writing; in addition to novels, he left behind a vast body of work across diverse fields, ranging from essays and plays to poetry, dictionaries, and historical records.
Not only did Ōgai exert a profound influence on modern literature, but he also rose to the highest military rank of Surgeon General—equivalent to lieutenant general. This life story served as the backdrop for the overwhelming support he received from the educated middle class of later generations.
Yukio Mishima described Ōgai as an icon of the intellectual class, the intellectual idol of the middle-class intellectuals since the Meiji era, and the creator of the most ideal aesthetic. It is particularly striking that even those who held substantial positions in society through practical professions did not regard novels as mere entertainment but held Ogai in special esteem. Ogai was accepted as the embodiment of the ideal intellectual who had mastered both Western and Eastern culture.
Writers are often portrayed as living decadent lives—unshaven, indulging in alcohol and tobacco. However, Ogai was a writer who achieved great success in both his practical and literary lives. In that regard, I believe Ogai received the support of the educated middle class not simply as an ideal of literature itself, but as the ideal embodiment of a person who enjoys literature.
Ogai fused classical Chinese scholarship with Western culture to create his own unique literary world. His writing style is restrained, precise, lucid, and exudes an intellectual aura. This masculine literary style was also embraced as an ideal by intellectual writers such as Yukio Mishima in the 1970s and Keichiro Hirano in recent years.
I believe that this aspect of Ogai can serve as an ideal model for today’s intellectual middle class as well. One does not necessarily have to become a university professor or a full-time writer. Even if one doesn’t write many works, as long as one is fundamentally a good reader—and, if capable, can publish even a single book—wouldn’t life be sufficiently literary just by that alone?

Love and Human Selfishness Revealed in ‘The Wild Geese’

‘The Wild Geese’ is one of Ogai’s masterpieces. While this may be due in part to the inherent appeal of a love story, the novel possesses such a compelling pull that it’s hard to put down once you start reading. At the same time, the deep insights into human nature revealed throughout the work lend it added depth. The human affection with which all the characters are viewed shines through the author’s witty prose, eliciting a subtle smile, and the way the female protagonist, Odama’s, sexual psychology is depicted is so astonishing that it can even feel provocative.
Yukio Mishima once remarked that no other writer possessed a style that artistically encapsulated Japan’s turbulent modern era quite like Ogai’s. While there were many writers with exceptional narrative skill, high poetic intensity, or a talent for abstract thought, writers with a descriptive power that seemed to penetrate the very essence of things—like Ogai’s—were rare. It is regrettable that Ogai, despite possessing such a magnificent style, did not have the time to write a comprehensive masterpiece; however, I believe ‘The Wild Geese’ comes quite close to the ideal form of a work created by such a comprehensive genius.
Judging by the plot alone, ‘The Wild Geese’ may seem like a typical love story of the modern novel. It tells the story of a woman who, driven by poverty, becomes the concubine of a moneylender and is awakened to love and self-awareness by a medical student who passes by her house every day. However, while reading this work, rather than focusing solely on the heroine, Odama, I found myself paying closer attention to the inner worlds of the selfish man who turned his back on the woman for the sake of his own future and the successful man who lives with a concubine.
The image of the selfish man also appears in Ogai’s debut work, ‘The Dancer’. ‘The Dancer’ tells the story of a protagonist who, due to unavoidable circumstances, abandons a woman he had been dating in Germany and returns to his home country to pursue his own success. In fact, shortly after Ogai returned from his studies abroad, there was an incident in which a 21-year-old German woman named Elise traveled all the way to Japan on her own before returning home. Although this was not limited solely to matters of the heart, Ogai described his state of mind with a single word: “resignation,” or “che-gwan.”
Ogai noted that while it might be fitting to describe his mindset as “resignation,” when others were wondering how much pain he must be in, he himself actually felt surprisingly unfazed. Of course, he acknowledged that this might be a state of apathy, and he added that he had no intention of making excuses for it.
So what exactly is “chegwan”? “Che” (諦) means “to examine” or “to know clearly,” and in Buddhism, it also signifies “truth” or “enlightenment.” “Gwan” (觀) means “to see.” I believe that “chegwan” refers to a life stance in which one uses reason to restrain and resolve the blind impulses of life, and furthermore, to sublimate them in a constructive direction.

Muenzaka and an Impossible Bond

The “Muenzaka” in ‘The Wild Geese’ seems to presuppose from the outset the impossible fate—or “mu-yeon” (no connection)—between Okada, an elite medical student, and Odama, a woman living in the shadows. For us, a hill remains an image of a place where a beloved departs far away and where bonds are severed. This is likely why it brings to mind Arirang Pass.
In the song “Muenzaka” by Japanese singer Masashi Sada, there is a scene where, when his mother was still young, she would take his hand and sigh every time they crossed this hill, smiling as she told him, “You must not look back.” When I think of this song, the image of a woman walking forward without looking back at past times or relationships naturally comes to mind.
Western myths that warn one will turn to stone if they look back also urge us to let go of our obsession with the past. It almost seems as if they are telling us to sever ties. While our youth may have been filled with twists and turns and regrets, all it takes is one deep exhale. The image of a woman walking down Muenzaka without looking back at the path she has already traveled comes to mind. And that image connects once more to the figures of Okada and Odama, and furthermore, it seems to represent the silhouette of the ascetic life led by the author, Ogai.
In the story, “I”—who had grown tired of the braised mackerel served for dinner and pushed my bowl aside—goes for a walk with Okada. As it happened, Odama had even put on makeup that day and was waiting outside the house for Okada. The reason Odama had stepped outside her home—no longer content to remain merely “the woman by the window”—was a conversation she’d had with Okada a few days earlier, on the day he had helped her get rid of a snake that had slithered into her house. That encounter had acted like a trigger, causing Odama’s longing to explode outward.
However, Okada simply walks right past her. This was because he had already decided to study abroad in Germany. He had no choice but to turn away from Odama’s beautiful gaze.
The two young men were walking north along Shinobazu Pond when they ran into Ishihara. Ishihara, saying he wanted to catch a goose, told Okada to throw a stone at it. Okada was reluctant, but unable to withstand Ishihara’s taunting, he threw the stone under the pretext of “scaring it away.” Unfortunately, however, the goose is struck by the stone and dies.
After it grows darker, Ishihara suggests they retrieve the dead goose, but “I” and Okada go for another stroll to pass the time. The two enter a soba noodle shop called Renkyoku-an. The name Renkyoku-an derives from the image of pearls forming on the lush lotus leaves of Shinobazu Pond.
The goose killed by the stone thrown by Okada brings to mind Odama’s fate. It is also significant that the three young men “eat” noodles at a restaurant containing the character “玉” (jade) found in Odama’s name, and then “eat” the dead goose at Ishihara’s house. These promising young men of modern Japan display a cold rationality—rejecting the temptations of beautiful women in pursuit of success; in other words, they do not allow themselves to be devoured but instead devour others.
Furthermore, if we consider that Hong-jak, who is devoured by a snake—a creature commonly regarded as a symbol of sexual desire—evokes the image of Odama being devoured by Suezo, Odama’s fate becomes even more tragic. Odama is devoured by Suezo for money, and then she is devoured by the young man she truly loved—without ever being loved in return. In this way, Odama appears to be a character who is constantly sacrificed in the midst of love and desire, poverty, and male selfishness.
However, “The Wild Geese” cannot be read simply as the story of a selfish man who abandoned a woman.

The Comfort Offered by “The Wild Geese”

It is also striking to hear that, at a location reminiscent of the story’s setting, the author happened upon a stone monument called “Jōchō” and a small shrine next to Benten Shrine. Engraved on the monument was an inscription stating that in 1962, poultry meat sellers with shops in Tokyo and others had joined forces to erect this “bird grave” in order to permanently console the souls of all birds that had served as food for human life and contributed to the prosperity of future generations.
Seeing this monument naturally brings to mind Odama. I cannot help but wonder if the work ‘The Wild Geese’ is not, in fact, a monument meant to console the pitiful fate of Odama—who sacrificed herself by becoming a concubine to provide a comfortable life for her impoverished father, only to find herself unloved even by the man she truly loved.
Ogai lived alone for about ten years—from the time he divorced his first wife until he remarried his second wife at the age of forty-one. During that time, a woman named Kodama Seki, believed to be the real-life model for Odama, lived nearby as Ogai’s concubine; it is also said that she later married a police officer. On July 9, 1898, a gossip column in the newspaper ‘Yorozuchoho’ reported that Ogai had taken Kodama Seki as his mistress when she was around eighteen or nineteen years old and favored her greatly; he had intended to marry her as his new wife but was unable to do so due to his mother’s opposition.
In the novel as well, Odama relays the matchmaker’s words to her father, explaining that while becoming that man’s woman would not make her a legal wife, she would be no different from one; however, due to public opinion, he cannot bring a concubine into the house. This passage brings to mind Ogai’s own situation.
This explains why Suezo, who took Odama as his concubine, is portrayed not merely as a supporting character but as another protagonist in his own right, occupying a significant portion of the narrative as his inner thoughts are revealed. Suezo, too, is depicted not simply as a figure who oppresses Odama, but as a human being navigating his own desires and the realities of his life.
Ultimately, might Ogai have erected a memorial through the novel ‘The Wild Geese’ to express his longing for and offer solace to Kodama Seki? Some research suggests that the name of Ogai’s eldest daughter, Mari (茉莉), was derived from the German woman Elise—specifically, Elise Marie Catherine Wiegelt. If ‘The Dancer’ was written for Elise, then ‘The Wild Geese’ could be seen as a work written for Kodama.
Furthermore, as suggested in ‘Sexual Life’, it can also be viewed as a tribute to “the girl in front of that house” whom Ogai used to gaze at once a week as he passed by when he was a seventeen-year-old student. Although their connection in reality was not meant to last, it never truly faded from his heart. I believe Ogai’s way of coping with life’s encounters and losses was not simply to forget them, but to sublimate them into his works.

“Takasebune” and the Criteria for Happiness

“Takasebune” is an extremely short story, yet it is considered the crowning jewel of Ogai’s historical fiction. It is also a work so well-known that it is consistently included in Japanese textbooks. Though brief, it prompts us to reflect on what constitutes happiness for human beings and whether euthanasia should truly be permitted.
After reading the story, one is led to consider that happiness does not necessarily align with the conditions we generally assume. It makes us question what happiness means to humans and what criteria others can use to judge whether someone is happy. Furthermore, the question of how far we can go in allowing choices made to end human suffering remains a difficult one to answer.

Human Dignity and Family Love Depicted in “Sancho the Godfather”

Set against the backdrop of an era when people were bought and sold and not treated as human beings, “Sancho the Godfather” depicts the affection between parents and children. It portrays modern values—such as self-discovery and respect for the individual—alongside the eternal love between parents and children with a restrained, understated touch.
The tragedy of the work is all the more poignant given that it is set in an era when people were bought and sold like commodities. Even in such times, the love between parents and children remains unbroken. This work prompts us to reflect on what makes a human being truly human and what it means to respect individual dignity.
It is so famous that it is rare for a movie lover not to be familiar with this work. Director Kenji Mizoguchi even won the Silver Lion at the 1954 Venice Film Festival for his film adaptation of the same name.

“Sexual Life” and a Contemplation of Human Sexual Desire

The original title of “Sexual Life” is the Latin phrase “Vita Sexualis” (sexual life). It was originally published in the magazine ‘Subaru’, but the magazine itself was banned on the grounds that the story was obscene.
This work is an autobiographical novel in which a philosopher candidly confesses the sexual experiences he has had since the age of six. However, it cannot be viewed merely as a work dealing with obscene content. Rather, it provides intellectual stimulation by offering a philosophical contemplation of human sexual desire as a fundamental instinct.
At the same time, it is fascinating because it offers a glimpse into the sexual lives of modern Japanese people at the time, including experiences of pederasty in the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter and school dormitories. By viewing human sexual desire not merely as a simple urge or sensational subject matter, but as a distinct sphere of life, this work clearly demonstrates Ōgai’s intellectual perspective. It is also significant as this is the first time the work has been introduced in Korea.
From ‘The Wild Geese’ to ‘Takase-bune’, ‘Sancho the Great’, and ‘Sexual Life’, Ogai’s works, while dealing with diverse subjects, invite readers to reflect on human life and desire, love and reason, individual fate, and social reality. In particular, as one follows Odama’s fate, Okada’s choices, and Suezo’s inner world in ‘The Wild Geese’, one comes to realize that the attitude toward life known as ‘che-gwan’—as described by Ogai—was not merely resignation or surrender, but rather an attitude of confronting life’s suffering and desires and sublimating them into a different form.