In this blog post, I’ll share the empathy and new insights I gained while translating ‘No Longer Human’, as well as my thoughts on the work and its author.
It is said that two things must be present for a book to be truly enjoyable: first, empathy, and second, discovery. For me, ‘No Longer Human’ is a work that fulfilled both of these.
Readers of this work are said to be divided into two camps: those who are moved by identifying with the protagonist, Yōzō Oba, and those who feel uncomfortable because they cannot understand the author’s psychology. Regardless of which camp one falls into, it is clear that this is a work that leaves a strong impression on readers. In my case, I belonged to the former group. I couldn’t shake the impression that Dazai had perfectly captured a part of my own heart.
For example, Yōzō fears falling into awkward silences when meeting people. He even describes it as a “terrifying silence.” Like Yōzō, I, too, sometimes find awkward silences unbearable when meeting people, so I desperately blurt out anything just to break the ice—even though I’m actually quite a quiet person. People who can handle silence well seem truly remarkable to me.
Naoki Matayoshi, an Akutagawa Prize-winning author and a comedian I personally admire, said he was so drawn to the charm of ‘No Longer Human’ that he read it about a hundred times. He said that every time he read the book, he underlined the parts he found interesting or that resonated with him, but eventually, almost every part was underlined, so he couldn’t tell which parts were important anymore. In fact, I saw his copy of ‘No Longer Human’ on a TV show, and there were far more underlined passages than there were ununderlined ones.
He had this to say about ‘No Longer Human’: I think it’s a story about the pain that each person carries within them. The toothache of an incredibly pure and sincere girl, and the toothache of a villain. Though it’s the same kind of pain, people feel sympathy for the girl but don’t feel sympathy for the villain, saying he brought it on himself. Emotionally, that may be true, but the pain remains. When we talk about our worries, people tell us there are far more people in the world who are struggling more than we are, as if we aren’t even allowed to worry. In fact, that’s true. But just because there are more people suffering than me, does that mean I have to pretend my worries and pain never existed? I believe ‘No Longer Human’ is a story written about this very issue.
The protagonist of ‘No Longer Human’, Yōzō Ōba, was born as the youngest child of a wealthy family in Japan’s Tōhoku region. In today’s terms, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like he has many worries. Nevertheless, Yōzō confesses: “I have ten disasters weighing on me, and I’ve even thought that if my neighbor were to shoulder even just one of them, wouldn’t that single one be enough to deal a fatal blow to them?”
Yōzō devises a method called “humor” as his “final appeal to humanity” in an attempt to connect with others. However, during his middle school years, a classmate sees through his ruse, and he becomes frightened. In high school, through a friend named Horiki, he becomes immersed in alcohol, cigarettes, prostitutes, and leftist ideology. Although these things allow him to temporarily soothe his fear of humanity, he eventually loses his ability to live as a human being due to his inner torment and becomes a wreck. It truly seems to be, as Matayoshi described, “a story about the pain that each person carries within themselves.”
Meanwhile, I also found myself thinking, “Living as a human being is truly difficult. If one lets go of the tension that sustains life even for a moment, one will either become a wreck or be driven to suicide.”
Dazai began writing ‘No Longer Human’ in March 1948 and completed the manuscript on May 12. Then, one month later, on June 13, he committed suicide by jumping into the Tama River reservoir alongside Tomie Yamazaki. Published in the June through August issues of the magazine ‘Tenbo’ that same year, this work is Dazai’s final completed novel. The cover price was 130 yen, which was not an insignificant amount considering that a pencil cost 5 yen, a movie ticket 40 yen, and a cup of coffee 20 yen at the time.
‘No Longer Human’ is a novel Dazai wrote while under the care of Tomie Yamazaki, who later took her own life alongside him. She served as his assistant, helping him organize his manuscripts, and was thus the first reader of ‘No Longer Human’. She was a successful hairdresser ten years younger than Dazai. She ran a beauty salon in Ginza—one of Tokyo’s most bustling districts—and also worked as an in-house stylist at a film studio. She was also a war widow, though she had spent only 12 days with her husband.
As a working woman at the time, she was likely able to assist Dazai—who was extremely busy as a popular author—with even the smallest details. When he met Tomie, Dazai was the father of three children and had impregnated another woman. His wife was overwhelmed by childcare and housework and had lost all patience with her husband, who was addicted to alcohol and women.
Although Tomie had heard the news that her husband had been killed in action in the Philippines, she felt guilty about entering into a deep relationship with Dazai before his funeral had even taken place. A man with a wife and children and a war widow. Their affair was a love that society could hardly accept. On June 13, 1948, the two wrote suicide notes in Tomie’s room and went to the Tama River, where they threw themselves into the water. Their bodies were discovered on June 19—the day of Dazai’s 40th birthday. Thus, Osamu Dazai brought his life—a life more novel-like than any novel—to an end.
Since ‘No Longer Human’ is such a masterpiece, there are many translations available in Korea, and I sincerely thank all the readers who have read my translation. While translating ‘No Longer Human’, I didn’t just read the text; I also searched for audio readings on YouTube and listened to them repeatedly. I also sought out TV programs and books that mentioned Osamu Dazai. In particular, I thoroughly enjoyed reading ‘Fireflies of Love: Tomie Yamazaki and Osamu Dazai’ (‘Koi no Hotaru: Yamazaki Tomie to Dazai Osamu’), written by novelist and essayist Yuko Matsumoto. Additionally, ‘No Longer Human’ was first adapted into a film in 2009, the 100th anniversary of Osamu Dazai’s birth; watching this film helped me grasp the historical context, the costumes, and the atmosphere of the café featured in the text. I strove to translate the work as faithfully as possible to the original text, while delving into its depths as much as I could. I would be delighted if this book helps anyone gain even a little deeper understanding of what it means to be human. Finally, I’d like to share Yōjo’s words.
“Simply put, everything passes.
In this so-called ‘human’ world, where I’ve lived in utter chaos until now, there is only one thing that feels like the truth—and that is all.
Simply put, everything passes.”
