Colegiala

by Osamu Dazai, Ryoko Shiba (Translator), Juan Fandiño (Translator)

Una chica joven, de familia pobre, se ve obligada a cometer un robo por amor. Una mujer mayor confiesa que una noche, muchos años atrás, se sintió fuertemente atraída por un hombre al que apenas conocía. Un ama de casa narra su sufrimiento al descubrir que su marido tiene una amante. Una muchacha narra cómo empeoró su vida tras recibir un premio literario… Los relatos incluidos en Colegiala abordan con tremenda delicadeza y exquisitez el universo femenino y sus contradicciones: la vergüenza, el amor no correspondido, la incomprensión ante la muerte de un ser querido, la felicidad extrema o, simplemente, los pensamientos que pasan por la cabeza de una adolescente japonesa de posguerra.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Japanese Literature, Japan, Short Stories, Asian Literature, Literary Fiction

272 pages, Paperback

First published July 20, 1939

About the author

Osamu DAZAI (native name: 太宰治, real name Shūji Tsushima) was a Japanese author who is considered one of the foremost fiction writers of 20th-century Japan. A number of his most popular works, such as Shayō (The Setting Sun) and Ningen Shikkaku (No Longer Human), are considered modern-day classics in Japan.
With a semi-autobiographical style and transparency into his personal life, Dazai’s stories have intrigued the minds of many readers. His books also bring about awareness to a number of important topics such as human nature, mental illness, social relationships, and postwar Japan.

Reviews

[daph pink ♡ · Rating 5 out of 5]

me *after completing this masterpiece, lying on floor crying and blabbering :- I am a Cinderella without her prince. Do you ...

my mother :- whatcha saying??

me :- I'm Cinderella without her prince. Do you know where to find me in Tokyo? You won't see me again.

my mother :- what you read this time?

me :- a novella about a girl's day , right from the moment she wakes up till the moment she went to sleep

my mother :- And?? Why are you crying then??

me *laughing* :- you won't get mom , that's the point you won't.

my mother :- here we go again , you want ice cream to cure your book hangover.

me *nodding and thinking again* :- the last person who rated this book 5 star must have felt the same, they must have been going through same emotions right now as I am.

All I wanna do right now is to meet that person and hug them and say "I understand you" and trust me I am not lying.❤️

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Let me be natural, let me be genuine.’

Youth is a volatile landscape of emotions and opinions, often vacillating between extremes while wishing you could just find your own sense of self and stability. Osamu Dazai captures the spirit of youthful angst and anxiety while coming of age in his brief yet brilliant 1933 novella, Schoolgirl (in English translation by Allison Markin Powell), which follows the interior monologuing of a young girl through the course of a single day. She drifts from dreamy and whimsical musings to sharp social and self-critiques, battered around by impulsivity of opinions as she flails for a sense of self she believes is both yet to come and already fading into the past. While the book contains culturally and period specific details and discourse, it manages to have a universal and timeless appeal that speaks to the modern reader just as directly as it would have in the 30s. Smart, stylish and sensitive, Dazai manages a masterful character study full of nuance and social insight all set within a single day that will resonate long beyond it’s slim page length.

‘The present moment is interesting to me. Now, now, now—even while you try to pin down an instant it flies off into the distance.’

Dazai is able to supply a fascinating depth and heft in such a small space with Schoolgirl. On the surface, not very much seems to happen. She bemoans mornings (‘mornings are torture’) and distracts herself with dark thoughts as she readies herself for the day, goes to school, gets a haircut and comes home to houseguests. Yet a whole world of complex emotions and social critiques overflow from every passage. The narrator herself explains the gist of this book best:

‘There I go again—pondering the purposelessness of my day-to-day life, wishing I had more ambition , and lamenting all the contradictions in myself—when I know it’s just sentimental nonsense.’

While Dazai tells this story through the voice of a young girl—her age is never determined but likely on the cusp of teenage years where she can still amuse herself with silly songs but then is disgusted at herself for enjoying them due to an awakening of, and desire for, maturity—his presence is still detectable almost as if he is winking to the reader from just under the surface. Auto-biographical details slip into the story and he uses the narrator’s impulsive graspings for understanding about the world to hone in on criticisms of society without addressing them head on. This, coupled with a stream-of-consciousness narration and wordplay, make for a very playful and boisterous style that keep the novel from wallowing in its own depressive qualities, which are still strong and will certainly pour it’s icy numbness over you all the same. This is all gorgeously rendered into English by Allison Markin Powell, who I’ve very much enjoyed through her translations of Hiromi Kawakami, and the novel is spirited in flow and word selection. If it feels clunky at times, it only better enhances the adolescent voice as she sputters into poetic ponderings but wields language like a sledgehammer that is too heavy and unruly for her to control.

As noted, the narrator’s emotional state is in constant flux as if being tossed about by the stormy waves of puberty. One moment she is ‘distressed, like there wasn’t any reason left to live,’ only to become fixated and uplifted by a gorgeous sky and think ‘I want to live beautifully.’ Having grown up in the grips of depression, this felt very true to life and Dazai’s own sensitive existence was frequently disrupted with depression and thoughts of self-destruction (he eventually took his own life at the age of 38 and his novel No Longer Human delves heavily into autobiographical details such as this). Her opinions on everything shift to almost polar opposites at different points in the novel, examining the world from wildly different vantage points at any moment.

‘It made me miserable that I was rapidly becoming an adult and that I was unable to do anything about it.’

The narrator spirals from self-hatred to self-admiration as well and is heavily fixated on her own body image, though asserts that her ‘body had no connection to my mind’ to try and separate her interior life from the waking world around her that causes her frequent disgust. ‘I can’t stand it,’ she says of her body observing it’s aging away from the ‘doll-like’ childhood body she wishes to retain forever. Yet, earlier when pursued by leering men, she thinks ‘I wish I would hurry up and grow stronger and purer so that such a trifling matter would no longer afflict me,’ and she is frequently repulsed by her own childish habits and thoughts early in the novel, wanting to be more of an adult.

Notions of purity are frequently analyzed by the narrator. There is, perhaps, a bit of an internalized misogyny going on in her disgust for women’s bodies that are no longer childlike or her hatred of the women on public transport. At one point she muses ‘Being female, I am all too familiar with the impurity found in women, it sets my teeth on edge with repulsion.’ There are few positive outlooks for women that she seems to recognize in the world around her. Dazai does, however, use this as an opportunity to examine the lack of independence women had in society, such as how ‘a mere smile can determine a woman’s fate. It is frightening.’ It is acknowledged that women are not safe, and her life can be flipped upside down at any moment a be ‘dragged off...falling into the chasm of compulsory marriage.’ Later she thinks of being a wife as a positive idea because it would give her a purpose.

'I yearned for everything long gone.'

In moments of anxiety, the narrator desires to give herself up into something larger and greater than herself, such as when she contemplates religious servitude. ‘It must be easier to relax,’ she thinks, ‘when someone always told you who you are and what to do.’ The narrator lamenting the loss of childhood and her father brushes against her trepidations about adulthood and desires to be part of something that will direct her. Is this, perhaps, an examination on the appeals of fascism? Especially in times of struggle being frightened of the possible future while also frightened by watching the normalcy of the past receeding from sight. There is a certain cruelty that pops up in the novel towads anything that deviates from a socially prescribed 'normal', such as her disgust for poverty and unkemptness (her desire for purity). ‘I cant stand how poor and pathetic he is,’ she admits about her own dog, ‘and because of that I am cruel to him.’ There is also a desire to look down on others, even the middle class: 'These people seemed like they were of the worst rank in today’s world. The filthiest. Were they what they call petit bourgeois?’ The narrator only finds purity and upper class freedoms appealing, with little to no regard to anyone beneath that. Japan in the 1930’s was going through economic turmoil and military expansion, and somewhere in here seems to be Dazai’s thoughts on how the disillusionment with social roles and life can push one towards strict adherence and participation in a larger power. Alternatively, these moments of cruelty and disgust may simply be projection of her own frustration over not being good enough.

‘The truth is that I secretly love what seems to be my own individuality’

Overall, the bulk of the narrator’s thoughts are preoccupations with authenticity. As much as she wishes to break free and rebel against society, she desires to be a ‘good girl’ and frequently contorts herself to fit the roles her mother and society prescribe for her. She hates herself for being unable to be exactly who she wishes she could be.

’I go about saying how pained and tormented, how lonely and sad I feel, but what do I really mean by that? If I were to speak the truth, I would die.’

There is also the realization that this sort of authenticity does not thrive well in society. Particularly one edging towards war. It is no surprise this book propelled Dazai onto the literary scene for boldly speaking on these subjects. There is a plea for beauty here, and one to not treat people cruelly for having unfortunate conditions in life. ‘Some of us,’ she thinks, ‘in our daily depressions and rages, were apt to stray, to become corrupted, irreparably so, and then our lives would be forever in disorder.’ The need for a social safety net is apparent, and unfortunately that wasn’t there for Dazai himself.

'Good night. I'm Cinderella without her prince. Do you know where to find me in Tokyo? You won't see me again.'

Schoolgirl is a very powerful story filled with chaotic and insightful musings on life. It can easily be read in a single sitting, but it is one you will ponder over for days to come. It is also a tricky one to pin down as the opinions fluctuate so much, which is part of it’s dark beauty in exploring the nuances of life and existential despair. This is a very moving and occasionally chilling portrait of depression and volatile interior world of someone struggling to not have their mindscape tumble into the void, but Dazai’s prose and playfulness keeps it progressing in a way that find rhythm even in chaos. A minor masterpiece and a definite must-read.

4.5/4

‘At the moment, I had the odd sensation that I had been staring like this for a very long time, and would be staring from now on, just like this, sitting here in the doorway to the kitchen, in the same pose, thinking the same thing, looking at the trees out front. It felt as if the past, the present, and the future had collapsed into one single instant. Such things happen to me from time to time.’

[emma · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a book that is so good that I can pinpoint the one specific flaw.

There is one thing that prevents this from Sheer Perfection Status and it is two sentences long.

It's just a weird bit where this (male) author has his (female) protagonist think about how gross women are. Which rings a bit Misogynistic, considering the circumstances.

But otherwise this is a gorgeous masterpiece from top to bottom. Poetic writing, lovely observations, a very real main character despite being very short.

I love books like this one!

Bottom line: More like this please.

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pre-review

speechless.

review to come / 4.5 stars maybe 5

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tbr review

call a book a groundbreaking literary classic and i'm going to read it

[Gaurav Sagar · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mornings are torture.

Glasses are like ghost

Words don’t come easy out of your mind and those exact ones which may express what we actually feel are even harder to come by; to have congruity between our thoughts and our words is a rare skill. However, one may not able to put forth the exact words but one may use simple, harmless, docile words to create an atmosphere of enigma to express one’s feelings. It may sound quite simple but had it been so then we might not have been reading Dazai. Schoolgirl is the Dazai’s second book which I read after No Longer Human. We don’t necessarily have a preamble to a book/ its review but it often adds a depth and understanding that is otherwise impossible. Well, in case of Osamu Dazai an introduction might be of great help since he belongs to those authors who write to express their thoughts and feelings per se; his understanding of human psychology, feelings of different stages of human life is second to none. And his own life – his troublesome life, drug addictions, and suicide attempts- adds semi-autobiographical traits to his works and Schoolgirl is no exception here, even though when narrator of the book is a girl. The reader may not be able to get away with an inevitable feeling that Osamu Dazai is perhaps not only the story teller but also a participant here- as it is the case with most of the books by Dazai. The themes woven into the woof and weft of his literary tapestries were so obviously cut from the fabric of his life that even when he assumed the guise of a mawkish female schoolgirl, readers have no trouble seeing through the flimsy veneer. The close connection between Dazai’s life and almost any of his works is immediately apparent, although as an artist he naturally did not confine himself to a mere recounting of autobiographical details. Schoolgirl depicts the story of a young girl who seems to be in conflict with not only her class but also with her emotions, which are so often juxtaposed with how she is supposed to behave.




The novella is uninterrupted stream-of-consciousness monologue by a bourgeois high school student who has lost her father and lives alone with her mother. Almost three-quarters of a century later, its prescience seems eerie; hardly anything about this book seems to have aged, least of all the narrator herself, who is perfectly preserved somewhere along the road to adolescence. The book is immensely simple in construction but this brevity facilitates great imagery throughout the pages. Each section that you read and each page you turn makes you recall, considering the subtext and noteworthiness of apparently disposable remarks- such is the impact of the dialect of Dazai, which is so unique to him-extremely basic but then can't be imitated.

It would be an futile exercise to describe plot of the book to any degree, as the novella appears as a day-in-the-life, stream-of-consciousness, like a broadened journal section, where the youthful hero starts by discussing certain occasions that have impacted her life, for example, the war and the demise of her dad, just to then be diverted some minor detail giving us a look into her mind. The narrator of the novella jumps around strong feelings in one paragraph and then contradicting them in the next which represents the mindset of a teenage girl. She goes on to touch upon seemingly mundane topics such as her dogs, movies she likes, her teacher, and the garden around her house. But all these humble happenings represent her feelings towards life- the melancholy she is in to. The narrator describes herself with the self-loathing characteristic of all Dazai narrators, the characteristic which is also akin to Dazai himself. She is an eccentric storyteller, given to flights of favor and sudden emotional episodes; her internal mind is indiscreet and creative, however one would realize that as one progresses through the book, focus of the narrator shifts upon the more pressing or ‘actual questions’ about life and her place in it, the questions which really matter in life and the questions which perhaps haunted Dazai too.

I would have been happy if he ever whined or lost his temper or acted selfish, but he never did.

We observe an abyss in her consciousness, for she is fully aware of her flaws and limitations yet she always imagines for something extraordinary and genuine. She wants to live an authentic existence but she doesn’t have anything to offer. The absurdity of teenage is peculiar to twentieth century’s literature- we have other examples such as A Clockwork Orange and The Catcher in the Rye which deals with the problem of adolescence but Schoolgirl has perhaps a different treatment to teenage in way that the narrator wants to live life on her own- as non-conformist- but her angst remains inside her unlike the narrator of other books mentioned here. The existential tension of the narrator remains unborn in her womb and the narrator lives an inauthentic form of existence which gives birth to extreme loathing of the narrator towards herself. However, despite an underlying sadness there is also a great deal of optimism in this novella.

May be something good would happen today.

The body had no connection to my mind, it developed on its own accord, which was unbearable and bewildering. It made me miserable that I was rapidly becoming an adult and that I was unable to do anything about it.

The truth is that I secretly love what seems to be my own individuality, and I hope I always will, but fully embodying it is another matter. I always want everyone to think I am a good girl. Whenever I am around a lot of people, it is amazing how obsequious I can be. I fib and chatter away, saying things I don't want to or mean in any way. I feel like it is to my advantage to do so.

Happiness will never come my way. I know that. But it's probably best to go to sleep believing that it will surely come, tomorrow it will come.


Schoolgirl is a significant piece of postwar literature in that it questions and problematizes some serious intellectual issues on power, gender and national identity, yet it manages to do so in a completely accessible way. It was the work which conveyed Dazai's written universe to the cutting edge of the abstract world in post-war Japan. Inside its pages can be discovered the social mores of this period ever, where young ladies in Japan were all the while ending up in organized relational unions. The young lady in the story stresses over being constrained into marriage to a more established man who she doesn't love. The narrator is in the process of discovering herself and Dazai's chronicle of her shifting emotional states is masterful. The book captures thinly veiled self-loathing, zany angst, wild mood swings, and "sublime nihility'' of Dazai in a way that speaks to the disaffected youth in us all. It’s this strange mix of social critique, capricious daydreams, and haunting biographical references that make Schoolgirl such a potent work, though like any other works by Dazai this novella may also be emotionally disturbing- as it might leave you with a strange of hollowness and emotional exhaustion as if you have become numb towards outer world; nevertheless could be an enriching experience for someone who wants to delve into deep abyss of human emotions.

[Liong · Rating 3 out of 5]

I rated it 3.5 stars.

A short novella about a schoolgirl. You may think, maybe a daily journal of a schoolgirl.

Listening to her thinking and doing.

This schoolgirl has a mundane but weird daily routine.

I realized she has strong mood swings.

Who is this schoolgirl from Tokyo?

Although the story is simple and monotonous, it was well-written by the author.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mornings are grey. Always the same. Absolutely empty.

What is this book? A teenage girl eats breakfast, goes to school, eats dinner, goes to sleep. A short and tense day in the life of unrelenting bleakness.

I yearned for everything long gone.

She’s just a kid. She’s a hypocrite. She’s bleeding. She’s drowning. She hates everyone, she wishes for everything. The world revolts her, but the world is beautiful, but the world is sad, but the world is glittering and peaceful. But the world is pain.

Our schoolgirl cannot explain herself. She tries, she thinks it out in her head, but she’s spinning and lost. She has a problem that she can’t articulate. Dazai paints a picture of the messy, dirty, confusing, all-consuming darkness that is depression.

It’s probably true. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I have become petty. I am no good at all. I am pathetic.

Dazai’s wiki page reads like a tabloid. With multiple attempts to take his life, it wasn’t surprising that this little novella punched me squarely in the gut. This man never knew a day’s peace. His narrative begs the questions - What is wrong with me? What is this thing inside me? How do I fix this?

This is a cry for help.

There are no happy endings, no pots of gold, no punchlines, no cures.

Tomorrow will probably be another day like today. Happiness will never come my way. I know that.

[julieta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Es una belleza este libro. Cada cuento es una joya, impredecibles y cercanos a la vez. Todas las protagonistas, o narradoras, son mujeres, pero no existe ninguna obviedad, todo lo contrario, cada personaje, y cada historia tienen una delicadeza muy especial, el autor parece tener alma femenina, y todas son grandes personajes.
Muy recomendado, no conocía a Dazai, a quien seguiré leyendo encantada.

[Helga · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late. The thought occurred to me as I lay there. You wait and wait for happiness, and when finally you can't bear it any longer, you rush out of the house, only to hear later that a marvelous happiness arrived the following day at the home you had abandoned, and now it was too late. Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late. Happiness...

This plot-less novella follows a Japanese teenage girl and her inner thoughts about people she encounters in her way to and from school, her own family, her identity, loneliness and isolation.
The entire novella which happens in a single day, is a long, despairing/tinged with nihilism monologue of a misunderstood young girl.

From the window I could see the moon. Crouching as I scrubbed, I smiled softly at the moon. The moon pretended not to see me. At that same moment, I became convinced that somewhere another sad and pitiful girl was doing the wash and smiling softly at this very moon. She was definitely smiling. There she was now, a suffering girl, quietly doing the wash by the back door late at night, in a house at the summit of a mountain in the distant countryside. And there, on the back streets of Paris, in the corridor of a squalid flat, a girl just my age was furtively laundering her things, and smiling at this same moon—I hadn't the slightest doubt, I could see her as clearly as if through a telescope, in distinct and vivid color in my mind.

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

My first Osamu Dazai, and I guess I have to join his cult - why is the literary world outside Japan largely sleeping on him? This novella describes an average day of, you guessed it, a schoolgirl, and while the unnamed girl follows mundane routines and chores, the stream-of-consciousness opens up her inner world. In her mind, she is struggling with the loss of childhood and the transition into the world of adolscents, and while she mourns the loss of her father, she ponders concepts like morality, authenticity, human cruelty and responsibility. It's quite remarkable that the young woman is also an alter ego of the author, who often employed his main characters as stand-ins for his own trials and tribulations.

Published in 1939, the novella that launched Dazai's career portrays pre-war Japan, but already foreshadows what's to come: The protagonist ponders that having a power that tells you what to do is a form of relief, as it takes away the pressure of decision-making and moral orientation. Still, many of the schoolgirl's preoccupations feel timeless and transcend national contexts. Dazai's language has such a modern edge that it it's hard to realize that it was written around 80 years ago.

A great text, I can't wait to tackle more books by Dazai.

[Mariel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Good night. I'm Cinderella without her prince. Do you know where to find me in Tokyo? You won't see me again.

Twenty thousand winks under the sea. Twenty thousand plus one stars above twinkling their twinkle little star how I wonder who you are. The house plants are not safe except for the fuchsias that are more easily drawn towards the dark than to the light (groans). Mary had all of her little lambs to count to quite contrarily not go to sleep. Tug on the fishing line as if it were a morse code (two pulls for please pull back and one push for PLEASE pull back) and there could be someone on the end of that line. The insomniac Rip Van Winkle returned home to two blinks for yes his family and they have all found family in others. Him alone is left to remember that THEY used to be a family. Blinks. Blood ties, loyalty and all! Dang it to hell. What year is this? If it was the latest issue of Teens Today magazine time stamped Japanese school girls of the 1930s and your thirties are the new teens of 2012 or the ageless with the headline this is going to be the rest of your life. Sleep long enough, shelf it long enough.. If you're lucky you get your own byline. There's a dark knight on his dark horse in the running. I guess the magazine questionnaire circles enough B's and A's to tell you that it is most definitely a sex dream. The strong teen thighs straddle this very normal teen dream that all very normal teen girls have to outrun the flowery bud in youth smell turning to pot purri that turns to Glade candle scent house wife petals. Is that flowers? No, it's Glade! But don't tell anyone. It's a secret! Don't wanna be Peter Pan! Don't wanna be Wendy (she has the whole Glade set)! Don't wanna be Tinkerbell (she is a Glade scent)! Don't wanna be no Captain Hook and steal their borrowed smug sailing. It sucks to be young, it sucks to stay young, it sucks to get old and die and it sucks to worry about it so danged much. It's all in a book I read that time and the good book smell is starting to sound like fish swimming around in an empty ovary like it some pair of fly boots from the disco age. Sleep with them under your pillow and they won't keep you warm tonight. The tooth fairy doesn't come for the toothless.

Okay, enough of that. I'm heartily sick of my review style. I read the new translation of Osamu Dazai's Schoolgirl Allison Markin Powell. I guess she's a part of how modern it reads, despite it's entombed in your place setting? Okay, enough of that. I'm not going to try and make real book sense now, of all times.

The schoolgirl was relateable to me. I feel like I know her enough to say that she would say the same thing, if she were me. She wishes it was when she was a young girl, when her father was still alive and her mother cared about being happy. She wishes her sister didn't forget about them when she married and had her own family. She wishes that she had something of her own to make her own and forget about. She wishes she could stop wishing and all of those too close to everybody else while on the train mental trains would come and go as they have to, on time and as scheduled. I know I've said this before and I'll probably say it again: those mental trains never stop to give a girl a moment's peace! Osamu Dazai got it exactly right. This may shred like the bad guy from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film (his name was Shredder! Get it?) any street cred I ever had around these parts, but I have to say that I liked Schoolgirl more than Dazai's No Longer Human. I know what you're saying! You're spewing more catch phrases than every episode of The Simpsons plus every TMNT film put together to tell me that it can't be true. Okay, No Longer Human had elementals of truth in lying in your own bodily oozes of THIS CAN'T BE IT. It was also narcissistic as anything and deliberately skewed to deny human relatability in that very denial of what it all means. I remember getting frustrated that it only took me so far on the spectrum of dark, you know? You know what I'm saying. I'm saying more cliches than every issue of every free magazine they'll subscribe you to without you even asking. The schoolgirl holds herself to all of these things. Society, what does it mean to be a good girl, a good daughter, a student and friend. Is she wrong to go about living in these books and relating to all of these people? I've asked myself this stuff plenty of times. She could be me, sometimes. I've said it before like those psychiatry checklists of dreams mean this and behavior patterns mean this. Where does it take the path less beaten? I'm fascinated in finding the chosen path too. I just diagnosed myself on webmd as a bad person and I'm gonna be nice to everyone I don't wanna! Dazai delivered both in Schoolgirl. Her mental trains stop everywhere. Constantly. They go wrong! right! I loved it when she imagines that she's a visitor to the long country walk home after school. Every oft seen detail is something new. She's almost getting into it... then she feels dumb and the magic is over. I felt like the point of it was that the chosen path was beaten because it was the chosen one. Oh, I love her when she's going on her own. The descriptions of how she feels when she falls asleep? So good. My favorite was how she saw herself and the world as more beautiful when she's not wearing her glasses. This is so true! I want to add that you do get a headache when you go for too long this way. It cannot last this borrowed outlook. I pretty much think Dazai got this right about how a person doesn't let themselves have what they want. It's not anyone else. It's us! "That's me!" I could have cried to my book. "That's her!" You could walk in her steps as you walk beside her. So good. That's the way that means something to me, at least.

The wish that she'll have that time from before when she didn't worry about anything comes over her. A wish for someone of her own. The wish comes over me that she would have found a way to go on that country walk pretending to be other people. Company that way and company in the books. Oh, and I loved how she'd stop herself in the middle of describing others. "I'm complimenting her too much. I'd better stop. Ugh!" (That's not a direct quote because I didn't mark that page number down.) I am impressed with any writer who can convey when a character is being dishonest with themselves this way. What they won't let themselves say. For a character who is as candid as this (I always find it such a relief to encounter another person, real or otherwise, who has this quality) it's so right on to get that bit of self censorship right. It's the inner turmoil at work for someone who does not like who they really are. You know what? On second thought I hope she can just continue on with her natural instincts about what bugs her without stopping herself in the middle of it. It would be just what No Longer Human was wrong about to hold within yourself what is true without pretending that something else can't be true too. I should say that I felt that way about Dazai himself rather than the character. I like the him in her and her in us and it is a school girl and it is just this schoolgirl. It's depressing how books meld together in my mind. It doesn't depress me when they feel like they could be someone you knew when your memory is like those glasses you aren't wearing.

There is a certain satisfaction in being dragged around, as well as a separate sad feeling as I watch it happen. Why is it that we cannot be happy with ourself or love only ourself throughout our life? Is it pathetic to watch whatever emotions or sense of reason I have acquired up to that point be devoured by instinct. Whenever I let the slightest thing make me forget myself, I can't help but be disappointed. The clear confirmation that that self- me, that is- is also ruled by instinct makes me think I could cry. It makes me want to call out for Mother and Father. But even more pathetic is that- to my surprise- the truth could be found in aspects of myself that I don't like.

I can't help liking this girl. You could be sure that every moment matters with someone like her. Every moment dismissed, picked apart and discarded to be picked up again later. She's never sleeping. She's dreaming, that's what. Okay, so she talks and talks a lot and if I were her I'd get sick of that danged fast because you're never at rest and just being. It's R.E.M in your whole body, growing painfully. Me too. I get sick of me. But I can like her. Thanks, girl. I'm sure I'll think of her next time I'm easily and stupidly depressed by the look of some stranger on a bus. Or happy when the look between two people sparks me to dream up something cool about them. Less alone! I like it!

It never ends. Does anyone else have that? You're happy and then you get in the way with your "This is wrong" and you see how everyone else is doing it and you feel like you could never do it "right"? It has worried me since my early twenties that these characters are always teenagers... I really like that despite this being about a school girl, a book titled Schoolgirl, it stretches out like starts and stops like you are about to fall asleep and then you can't. It's the first wrong foot forward. Wake up and then you live your whole day like a dream you feel like you should remember. I think I love the almost happy part most of all about this. The way it feels like things should be like something else. That is so freaking right on. I really liked this. I talk too much like her. I find her very reassuring, even though it is very much the FIRST wrong foot forward, as I said. Never ends.

[aayushi · Rating 5 out of 5]

tomorrow will probably be another day like today. happiness will never come my way. i know that. but it's probably best to go to sleep believing that it will surely come, tomorrow it will come.

who is the schoolgirl?

the one who hates everything but still loves wildly, the morning emptiness and the hopeful daydreams, the one who puts her faith in her own cynicism, the one who fears her own courage, the one with pellucid thoughts and fumbling footsteps, the one with wildly intense emotions and kind, gentle words, the one who hopes to live ferociously and die silently, the one who wants everything but wishes for nothing, the one who wants to be found but loves to be lost.

who is the schoolgirl? she's you, she's me, as happy as we are sad, as hopeful as we are hopeless, a wild emotion, an abstraction, an absolute human contradiction.

whenever i try to talk about what dazai means to me, words fail to encompass the atmospheric beauty of everything that his works hold. everything makes sense and nothing makes sense - both at once. thank you kaustav for making me read it! :')

[Sana · Rating 4 out of 5]

بااینکه داستان هم کوتاه و هم ساده بود ،ولی خیلی دوستش داشتم.
خیلی جملات قشنگی داشت و حتی میشه در یک نشست خوند و لذت برد.

[The Artisan Geek]

29/1/21
A short and simple novella about a day in the life of a Japanese schoolgirl. This is one of the few earlier pieces of Dazai's work that as of yet has been translated to the English. I found there to be many similarities between this and his later work. For instance, the proximity the reader has to the main character. This is actually one of the things I enjoy the most about Dazai's work -- it often feels incredibly intimate and very relatable. I quite liked the way the story was written as a stream of consciousness. It was nice to go along with the motions on the main character as she struggled with coming to terms with growing up and her place in society. Such a neat little story.

You can find me on
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[Sepehr · Rating 3 out of 5]

تا آخرین رمق، در انتظار شادی :

دازای استاد بی‌بدیلِ مونولوگ‌نویسی برای آدم‌های تنها، طرد شده، پارادوکسیکال و شکست خورده است. نوشته‌های او، یا حداقل هرآنچه از او به دست ما رسیده، تراوشات ذهنی افرادی است که در بین چرخدنده‌های قواعد اجتماعی له شده‌اند. افرادی که می‌خواستند جور دیگری باشند، ولی فرهنگ فردیت‌ستیز و منتقل‌کننده‌ی حس بی‌تعلقی به چنین افرادی، آنها تا مرز فروپاشی‌های غیرقابل جبران می‌برد.
او هفت بار دست به خودکشی زد، الکلی و به نوعی شهوتران و یک عاصی سنت‌ستیز بود. او فضاهای متعدد و مختلفی را زندگی کرد ولی هیچکدام او را از شر عقاید خودویرانگرش نجات نداد. بنابراین طبیعی است که تسلط زیادی به افکار آدم‌های در معرض فروپاشی و فراموشی داشته باشد و بتواند به خوبی افکار آن‌ها را بیان کند.
با این‌همه، آثار او با وجود پختگی و صراحت لحنش، کماکان از فقر داستانی رنج می‌برد. هیچ ایرادی از این بابت به آثار ادبی وارد نیست که چون پیرنگ داستانی خوبی ندارند پس بی‌ارزش هستند. خیر. هیچکس در آثار بکت، در جستجوی ماجرا نیست. ولی این را از این بابت مطرح کردم که دازای در جهانی قلم می‌زند که داستان مهم است. گذشته مهم است. چرایی این آشفتگی و پریشان‌حالی‌ها مهم است. شایو و زوال بشری، خط داستانی پررنگ‌تری داشتند، هرچند که به قدری هم مفصل و فضاساز نبودند که در یادها بمانند. ولی صبح خاکستری که البته ترجیح مترجم، به جای دختر مدرسه‌ای بوده، کاملا به یک مونولوگ طولانی شباهت دارد که البته عمیق و زیباست ولی با کمی فضاسازی و کمک‌گرفتن از چیزهایی بیش از زبان آدمی، می‌توانست ماندگاری بیشتری داشته باشد.

[Armin Ahmadianzadeh · Rating 3 out of 5]

اول از همه این رو بگم که دوس داشتم مترجم محترم کتاب خانم سلحشور اسم اصلی کتاب رو برای ترجمه یعنی "دختر مدرسه‌ای". یا حداقل کاش دلیل تغییر نام کتاب رو ذکر می‌کردن که چرا این نام رو انتخاب کردن. حتی با اینکه هزار بار هم عبارت صبح خاکستری تو متن داستان اومده باشه برای من قانع‌کننده نیست که جانشین عنوان اصلی کتاب بشه!

ترجمه کتاب ولی از سوی دیگه روان و کم‌نقص بود.

با مونولوگ‌گویی‌های دختر نوجوان طرف هستیم. مونولوگ‌هایی به‌لحاظ ساختاری قوی بودن ولی به‌نظرم پیرنگ داستانی قوی رو در پی نداشتن. ایده اثر و فرم کتاب جالبه، و در کل من مونولوگ‌گویی‌های یه‌فرد رو که با خودش صحبت می‌کنه یا تو ذهنش داره رو دوس دارم. و اینکه اثر از پیرنگ قوی برخوردار نیس به‌هیچ وجه از ارزش کتاب کم نمی‌کنه.

دقت و ظرافت دازای در توصیف حالات و احوال دختری نوجوان در جامعه بعد از جنگ ژاپن که جامعه بسته‌ای هم هست و قواعد و چارچوب‌ها محدودیت‌های زیادی رو به‌وجود آوردن که کلیشه "انتظار دختر خوب بودن" به‌شدت زیاده خیلی جالبه. از صبح‌های خاکستری و ملال‌آور، مدرسه و کلاس‌های خسته‌کننده، زندگی یکنواخت، طبیعت زیبا ولی ترس از زیبایی آن. همه این‌ها به‌غنای کتاب افزوده.

این کتاب رو بیشتر از کتاب قبلی یعنی در باب عشق و زیبایی دوس داشتم ولی در اون حد wow نبود برام.

امتیاز من ��ه‌کتاب: ۳ از ۵

"احساسم نسبت به خانواده‌ام بسیار عجیب بود. اگر از دیگران دور می‌شدم، به‌مرور در ذهنم کم‌رنگ و کم‌رنگ‌تر می‌شدند، تاجایی‌که کاملاً فراموششان می‌کردم. اما خاطراتم از افراد خانواده‌ام دائم عاشقانه‌تر می‌شدند و فقط زیبایی‌های آن‌ها را به‌ یاد می‌آوردم."

وقتی به خانه برگشتم، همه‌ی چراغ‌ها روشن بودند. خانه ساکت بود. پدر رفته بود. غیبتش را آنجا، مانند حفره‌ای عمیق، حس کردم و همین باعث شد از شدت درد و رنج، به لرزه بیفتم. لباس‌هایم را عوض کردم و لباس سنتی ژاپنی پوشیدم. بر رُزهایی دست کشیدم که روی لباس‌های زیر قدیمی‌ام گل‌دوزی شده بودند. به‌محض اینکه جلوی آینه‌ی آرایش نشستم، صدای خنده‌ای از اتاق پذیرایی بلند شد که بنابه دلایلی خیلی عصبانی‌ام کرد.

"از اینکه به‌سرعت داشتم بزرگ می‌شدم و کاری هم از دستم برنمی‌آمد، احساس بدبختی می‌کردم."

"احتمالاً فردا هم روزی مانند امروز خواهد بود. شادی هرگز به سراغم نخواهد آمد. می‌دانم. اما بهترین کار این است که با این باور بروم بخوابم که حتماً می‌آید؛ فردا حتماً می‌آید."

"گاهی شادی یک شب دیرتر از راه می‌رسد."

"در آرزوی همهٔ چیزهایی بودم که خیلی‌وقت پیش تمام شده بودند."

"بعضی از ما در افسردگی‌ها و خشم‌های روزانه‌مان، به‌طور جبران‌ناپذیری مستعد انحراف بودیم، مستعد فاسدشدن."

"زیبایی اصیل همیشه بی‌معناست، عاری از فضیلت. یقیناً همین‌طور است."

[Rosemarie Björnsdottir · Rating 5 out of 5]

Love, love, love, love

[Mohammad · Rating 3 out of 5]

یک سری از روزهای زندگی روزهای فهمیدنن، و بعضی روزها برای طی کردن ساخته شدن. روزهایی که نشستی خطوط ترک روی دیوار اتاقت رو دنبالت کردی. روزهای پیاده‌روی در ازدحام شهر، یا اگه خوش‌شانس باشی توی جاده‌های خاکی در یک روزی که مِه کل آسمون رو گرفته. روزهایی که چند گالن چایی خوردی، یک فیلم رو از روی کاور رنگیش تو سایت برداشتی و دل رو زدی به دنیای فیلم. تجربه کردن هرچیز جدیدی، چنگ زدن به رشته و پنبه‌های هنر، برای کش دادن زمان، تا دیدن دوباره‌ی خورشید یا هرچیز دیگه‌ای که برات معنی یک روز تازه رو داشته باشن.
من از دازای چیزی نخونده بودم، این رو هم تو یکی از روزهای آزگاریم در شهر و پارک و اتوبوس، از کتاب‌فروشی خریدمش و بیشترش رو روی نیمکت پارک کنار اون‌جا تو شب زیر نوری که ترکیبی از قرمزی و سفیدی داشت خوندمش. یه مونولوگ یک روزه هستش، کوتاه و خوش‌نوشت. یه قدم‌زدن سیاری هست تو ذهن یه بچه‌ یا کودکی که زودتر ماجرای دنیا و جهان رو متوجه شده. همون ماجرایی که هیچ‌کسی بهت توضیحش نمی‌ده، خودت باید بفهمیش! تو یکی از همین روزهای پیش‌رو یا روزهای سابق. و بعد از فهمیدنش هم به قانون باشگاه احترام خواهی گذاشت.
نشستن روی یه تخته پاره شناور در جریان ذهن یه دختر مدرسه‌ای در ژاپن و گوش کردن به افکار و امورات روزانه‌ش چیزی هستن که تجربه خوندن این کتاب رو می‌سازن. بالا و پایین شدن در امواجی از احساسات سرزده یا قدیمی‌ای که در لابه‌لای متن خودشون رو آشکار می‌کردن. مغلوب‌‌شدن‌های به دست زندگی و در کنار طی کردن رشته‌ی هر اندیشه تا انتهاش به جست‌‌و‌جوی شادی‌ای گُم شده. اما در نهایت بی‌روایت و بدون داستان. خبری از ماجرایی نیست و تهش فقط یه به آغوش کشیدن کوچیک از یه انسان دیگه در اونور کره‌ی زمینه، چکیده‌ی کل مطلب: خوندنش مثل حس درک شدن برای دقایقی کوتاهه، برای فهم این‌که تنها نیستی. ریویوی هول‌هولکی‌ای شد، اما به هرحال بگذریم!

[Paula Mota · Rating 2 out of 5]

I felt like trying to cry. I held my breath for a good while, in order to make my eyes bloodshot, and I thought I might be able to squeeze out a tear, but it was no good. Maybe I've turned into an impassive girl.

A protagonista de “Schoolgirl” é basicamente um Holden Caulfield de quimono, mas mais insuportável, mais cruel, mais maledicente, mais imatura.
Como é normal numa adolescente, tem variações de humor e picos de angústia, mas a forma como Osamu Dazai expressa esses sentimentos supostamente profundos soa a falso.

Nobody in the world understood our suffering. In time, when we became adults, we might look back on this pain and loneliness as a funny thing, perfectly ordinary, but—but how were we expected to get by, to get through this interminable period of time until that point when we were adults?

Não há rigorosamente nada que escape à sua estupidez, nem o cão de família, nem a professora, nem os outros passageiros dos transportes públicos.

There was a disgusting woman on the bus. The collar of her kimono was soiled, and her unkempt red hair was held up with a comb. Her hands and feet were dirty. And she wore a sullen look on her darkly ruddy androgynous face. Ugh, she made me sick.

O facto de o meu chip da literatura japonesa ter vindo com defeito de fabrico não ajuda, é um facto, mas a decisão de Osamu Dazai pôr uma rapariga a narrar o seu dia na primeira pessoa e acabar por dizer que as mulheres são nojentas e cheiram mal ultrapassa o meu limite de tolerância.

Women are disgusting. Being female, I am all too familiar with the impurity found in women, it sets my teeth on edge with repulsion. It's as if that unbearable raw stench that clings to you after playing with goldfish has spread all over your body, and you wash and wash but you can't get rid of it. Day after day, it's like this, until you realize that the she-odor has begun to emanate from your own body as well. I wish I could die like this, as a girl.

[Neli Krasimirova · Rating 5 out of 5]

"İyi geceler. Ben prensi olmayan bir Külkedisi'yim. Tokyo'nun neresinde olduğumu biliyor musunuz? Beni bir daha görmeyeceksiniz."
*
Dazai ile tanışma metnim -ki Japon yazını rehberliğine çok güvendiğim sevgili Deniz Balcı da buradan başlanmasını tavsiye etmiş, bilmeden iyi bir başlangıç yapmışım- ve bayıldım. 30 yaşındaki bir adamın ergen bir kızın kafasının içinden bu kadar doğru frekansta, güncelliğini yitirmeyen notalara basarak böylesi yalın bir uzun öykü çıkarmış olması gerçekten muazzam; edebiyatı bir kez daha kucaklamamak elde değil. Henüz çocukluk masumiyetini üzerinden atamamış ama hormonların akınıyla gelen “herkesten, her şeyden nefret ediyorum” hissine de tam alışamamış olma durumunu kendi ilk yetişkinlik zamanlarımdaki gibi tekrar yaşattı bana. Kendinize bir iyilik yapın ve bu 54 sayfayı okuyun :)

[Deniz Balcı · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Schoolgirl’ henüz Türkçeye çevrilmemiş, ben de İngilizcesini okumuş olsam da yorumumu Türkçe yazacağım. Bu kısa roman o kadar Dazai ki, onun zihnimde yarattığı dağınıklığı çok özlemişim.

Osamu Dazai’nin dört kitabını Türkçe okuyabiliyoruz şuan. Bunlar -Japonya’da yayımlandıkları tarihlerle- şu şekilde:

Mor Bir Serserinin Gezi Notları – Orijinal adı: Tsuguru – 1944
Buruk Ayrılık – Orijinal adı: Sekibetsu – 1945
Batan Güneş – Orijinal adı: Shayo – 1947
İnsanlığımı Yitirirken – Orijinal adı: Ningen Shikkaku – 1948

Bu dört kitabı özellikle tarihleriyle birlikte yazdım çünkü konu Dazai olduğunda son derece önem arz ediyor. 1930’ların başında yazmaya başlayan Dazai 1948 Haziran’ında çok kere deneyip başarılı olamadığı intiharlarına inat, başarıya ulaştığı son bir eylemle hayatına son vermiştir. Yazın hayatının son yıllarında, özellikle 1940 sonrasında, tamamen ‘ben-roman’ anlayışına yönelmiş; anlatıcının direkt kendisi olarak okunabildiği romanlar kaleme almıştır. Tüm felsefi düşüncelerini, anlatıcının zihnine sığdırmıştır, kurmacanın ötesinde düşünsel metinler ortaya koymuştur. ‘Schoolgirl’ ise 1939’da yazılmış. Onun yazınsal kırılmasının tam öncesinde. O yüzden karşımıza çok başka bir Dazai olduğunu söyleyebilirim. Zamansız bir roman kotarmış. Ve Dazai’nin hayatı kronolojik bir şekilde eserlerinde izlenebildiğinden, kendisi ve yazını ayrılmaz bir bütün olduğundan Türkçeye çevrilen bütün eserlerinden önce buna bakmak lazım bence.

Belirsiz bir yaşta ama lise çağlarında olduğunu tahmin ettiğimiz bir kız öğrencinin zihnine konuk ediyor ‘Schoolgirl’de Dazai bizi. Bu isimsiz kız ile bir gün geçiriyoruz. Yatakta gözlerini açıp uykudan uyandığı an ile başlıyor, yatağa yatıp kendini uyumaya zorladığı an ile de bitiyor. Bu bir günün anlatımında da alışık olduğumuz yazın tarzının tüm yönlerini göstermekle birlikte yepyeni bir yüzünü daha keşfediyoruz yazarın. Zira bir kızın yani karşı cinsin içinden seslenen Dazai’nin farkındalıkları çok daha başka bir boyutta burada. Bu noktada kurmacanın onu çektiği sınırsızlıkta daha rahat dans edebiliyor yazar. Yine karanlık düşünceleri yok mu? Kesinlikle var. Fakat bu kez özgün bir karakter de var. Babasının ölümü ve ablasının evlenmesi sonrası annesiyle baş başa kalmış bu kız öğrenci, varoluşunu nasıl anlamlandırabileceğini bilmiyor. Hayatın her anında sancıyor. Baktığı manzarada, yaptığı yemekte ama özellikle gözlemlediği insanlarda korkunç bir anlamsızlık buluyor. Dazai’nin ‘İnsanlığımı Yitirirken’ ya da ‘Batan Güneş’ de kanserli bir hücre gibi yazınının her cümlesini sarmış olan pesimist ve vazgeçmiş ses; burada daha yumuşak ezgilerle duyuluyor: Bir ergenin anlamlandırma çabasında. Üstelik henüz savaş üzerinden geçmemiş Japonya’nın. Ancak kızın yaşadığı yabancılaşma okur üzerinde bir isyan duygusu yaratıyor. Holden gibi kapıyı masayı tekmelemek, kaçıp gitmek dürtüsünü ortaya çıkarıyor. Fakat Dazai’nin karakterinden beklenebilecek o umarsız tutulmuşluk geleceği haber verircesine kızın silkinmesine izin vermiyor. Kız tamamen dürtülerine kendini teslim etmiş durumda. Toplumla uyuşamayacağının göstergesi olan o kısa ama sert sahnelerde, Dazai’nin geleceğini haber veren bir seda var. Toplu taşımada, okulda, evde kızın etrafındaki insanlara getirdiği sert eleştiriler aslında onun topluma bakış açısını resmediyor. Diğer yandan böyle hissettiği için de kendisinin korkunç biri olduğunu düşünüyor. Bu yüzden daha daha daha derin bir batağa saplanıyor. Tam olarak Dazai işte.

Böylesi bir ilk dönem eserinin neden çevrilmediğini anlamak mümkün değil. Eğer çevrilmiş olsaydı ve Dazai’ye ilk hangi kitapla başlayayım diye sorsaydınız; şüphesiz cevabım ‘Schoolgirl’ olurdu. Dazai’ye ilginiz varsa ve İngilizce okurum derseniz kaçırmayın derim. Umarım yakın zamanda dilimizde de okuma fırsatına sahip oluruz.

Aslında Jaguar’ın muhteşem kitaplarının yanına nasıl da güzel yakışır:)

Herkese iyi okumalar.

[Alwynne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Osamu Dazai’s 1930s novella depicts a day in the life of a Tokyo schoolgirl. The unnamed girl's grieving her father's death, searching for some model for who to be and how to live; at the same time repeatedly reminded of the limited roles available to her. She’s caught up in a constant cycle of conflicting thoughts, self-loathing and self-disgust alternate with moments of optimism and self-acceptance. Her feelings of isolation are intensified by her encounters, men who either harass or ignore her, the hypocrisy she detects in the gap between the ideas of patriotism and ethical living peddled by her teachers and what she sees around her.

Osamu Dazai’s introspective, stream-of-consciousness narrative is rooted in the tradition of the Japanese I-novel, so on the surface it’s a deceptively simple, intimate portrait of one individual struggling with society’s demands. But I was impressed by the way Dazai’s brief, accessible story transcended the personal, and the ease with which he teased out broader questions around alienation, power and control. Questions that remain relevant. His schoolgirl’s failed attempts to act, or even think, authentically, convincingly portrayed the destructive forms of self-surveillance that can arise from grappling with relentless, rigid cultural expectations – partially reflected in the opposition set up here between the spontaneous beauty of nature and the messy, confusion of the human world.

[nikola · Rating 1 out of 5]

I don't think Dazai created a good character in this book, it feels more like he made up a teenage girl from his assumptions about womanhood that he clearly doesn't understand. She's painfully written through a male gaze, her personality is flat and nothing from her reflections really piqued my interest, it all seemed so simple-minded.

[E. G. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Preface, by Adam L. Kern
Foreword, by Rachael Hutchinson

--Schoolgirl

[Ahmad K. Al Hindi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Regardless of how short the story is, Dazai had achieved a good level of depth through the mind of the main character, a nameless schoolgirl, who is on the verge of becoming a woman. The contradictions which her character displayed throughout the story alongside her daydreams and judgements on people had made her real as well as a little bit difficult to understandーwhich, of course, is only to be expected of someone at this stage of their life. Moreover, Dazai's depiction of her struggle in overcoming the death of her father felt so realistic. How she did her best everyday to please her mother as she continued to play the role of "the good girl" was emotional. I also sympathized with her mother, whose job must have made it worse for her. Aside from that, I appreciate how rich and inventive the language is. Dazai's writing style is splendid! As a whole, it was a good read.

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐳𝐮


𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗼𝘁𝗲/𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲:
“𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚. 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑰 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒑 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒅. 𝑨𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒇𝒖𝒍. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔...”

[Marie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Dazai is a man in his mid thirties, and it shows. I’ve read No Longer Human, and can see how introspective and deep his narrators can be. It seems like he is holding back because he doesn’t think the narrator is capable of doing so. The only introspection in the prose is about how insecure she is, but even then he doesn’t explain why or what exactly these insecurities mean. Furthermore the objectification of women and depiction of gender roles makes the prose devoid of realistic ness.
“I suddenly felt the urge to be naked.”
I, a teenage schoolgirl, with all of my insecurities and love for nature, can contend that neither I nor my girlfriends have ever felt the urge to be nude in the presence of nature. In all of this inaccuracy, there is no plot or story. It is bland, and doesn’t provide a character to relate to. To be blatant, the only reason I didn’t give it a lower review was for the sole reason there weren’t spelling mistakes.

[noor ★ · Rating 4 out of 5]

this schoolgirl is hopeful but hopeless
she's delicate but brave
dejected but optimistic
empty but full of hope
she hates everything but she loves with her heart too

"Tomorrow will probably be another day like today. Happiness will
never come my way. I know that. But it's probably best to go to sleep
believing that it will surely come, tomorrow it will come."

if only i could hug fictional characters

[Tina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Este libro es una recopilación de relatos que se caracteriza porque todos ellos son narrados por personajes femeninos. Estaba muy emocionada por leerlo por este hecho y porque ya había leído a Osamu Dazai anteriormente con Indigno de ser humano y este me encantó.

Pero esto, dios mío, esto fue mágico. Fue de sentarme y no querer soltarlo más. A mí personalmente se me hace muy difícil eso de engancharme con un libro, porque soy muy pero que muy distraída, mi cabeza siempre está de acá para allá. Pocas son las historias que consiguen lograr que no despegue aunque sea por unos minutos los ojos de sus hojas…  así que decir que estaba cautivada sería poca cosa. Estaba hechizada.

Los sentimientos que acompañan a la mayoría de los relatos son de tristeza y vergüenza, esto no suena muy lindo que digamos, pero yo lo veo así: al sacar estas emociones, mientras reflexionas sobre ellas, se van y te quedas con tranquilidad, ¿no? Te liberas y lo que terminas sintiendo es melancolía mezclada con esperanza. Eso sentí yo al menos, y eso fue lo que me transmitieron estas mujeres.

Otro detalle que me gusta es que se nota mucho que estos sentimientos son algo que el autor sufría en carne propia. Al leer su obra y luego su biografía se nota bastante que la salud mental, los problemas amorosos, la guerra y la escritura (temas muy importantes en los relatos) eran parte de su vida. Esto le da mucho contexto a los escritos y los vuelve personalmente más bellos de lo que son. Y es que su prosa de Dazai es tan limpia, tan simple. No se demora en detalles innecesarios o en descripciones largas, solo escribe lo justo y lo necesario. Las palabras fluyen por sí solas. Yo me sentía como si estuviera leyendo el diario o una carta de una amiga cercana.

El relato Colegiala es mi favorito, aunque todos me gustaron de igual manera. Es que este describe con mucha precisión como me siento la mayoría del tiempo. Como dije, mi cabeza siempre está al mil por hora y la de la pobre colegiala también. Me sentí muy identificada.

Podría estar párrafos y párrafos siguiendo con esto, remarcando los ingeniosos que son, en cómo me reía en partes, en lo relajada que me encontraba, en lo que me dejaron y demás. Pero basta ya. Voy a dejar a continuación mis frases favoritas y se acabó.



《Sentí una suave tranquilidad que me hizo ver que, si yo quería, podía llevar una vida verdaderamente hermosa.》

《En serio, nadie puede imaginarse nuestro sufrimiento. En un futuro próximo, cuando seamos adultas, el dolor y la pena que sentimos ahora puede que nos resulte algo gracioso, un simple recuerdo que carezca de la menor importancia, pero ahora mismo, no sé cómo sobrellevar este largo y desagradable periodo que nos toca vivir. Es algo que nadie te enseña a superar. ¿Será la juventud algún tipo de enfermedad como el sarampión, que nada más se cura pasándolo?》

[Larnacouer de SH · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bir dilek hakkım olsa Dazai'nin yüzlerce kitabı olmasına mı yoksa Markus Zusak ile görüşmeye mi harcardım bazı geceler uzun uzun bunu düşünüyorum. Nasıl mı delirdik? İşte böyle.

Su gibiydi bee. İçime oturdu yine, YİNE.

[sophia · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I always want everyone to think I am a good girl."

A teenage girls day. She wakes up, eats breakfast, goes to school, eats dinner, and goes to sleep. Despite the seemingly plain and simplistic life she leads, hers is one of suffering. Our unnamed narrator goes through the motions of daily life while simultaneously battling herself and undergoing constant mental pains. From the moment of waking, she is already deriding herself and focusing on the negatives of her life. Mornings are always grey.

Throughout this short novella, Dazai paints a vivid picture of what depression is realistically like. It's messy, it's numbing, it's draining, it's everything at once and nothing at all. Our schoolgirl has almost no identity to account for, she imitates characters from books and lives her day as if one already dead. As someone with an extensive history of depression and DDD, this book felt like a being stabbed repeatedly and then getting a small band-aid, with the adhesive long worn off, laid upon my wounds. She gets on the bus to school and all she can think of is how bleak and unenjoyable her life is, but then she sits down and begins to judge the others around her, as if ignoring the previous debasing she'd subjected herself to. She doesn't like herself, and she doesn't like other people either. The schoolgirl wants to please other people, but inwardly despises herself for this. She takes efforts to make her teachers, mother, and others happy, but feels disgusting and vile for this, as if ashamed of her need to be seen as good.

Schoolgirl zeros in on one specific aspect of depression, namely, lack of identity and a feeling of numbness. The schoolgirl feels as if she's just floating through life, without a purpose or a reason to keep going on living. The only source of happiness she was able to get in this book was when she pretended to be someone else on her way home from school, putting on a mask of a country girl who's new to the area. She feigns surprise and bliss at the nature around her to stimulate new experiences and joy because of how much it is lacking in her own, real life. Schoolgirl introduces the question of the meaning of life and what really signifies a "meaningful" life. We're expected to continue trudging forward through this world, enduring our pain because of the hope of something greater in mind, but what of the people who cannot take a step forward? Keep going on to reach the top of the mountain, everyone says, but what of those who have paralyzing pains right now?

Dazai introduces the struggle between us as individuals and "them", the society around us. He delves into our societal expectations versus how much its tearing us apart to meet them. Our schoolgirl displays this in one seemingly insignificant scene where she prepares a specific style of dinner for her mothers guests, rococo, which she describes as beauty without substance. This is done by throwing a variety of food onto the plate and displaying it in a pretty way, to make up for the ugly truth of how little value the meal has. As the guests praise and enjoy the meal, the schoolgirl cannot take it anymore and angrily explains that there was no real effort into it, she had thrown things together to make it pretty, and the food itself is bad; wanting to display her weakness and show them the truth. However, they simply take her anger as modesty and continue to admire the dinner. This is a juxtaposition to the airs that Dazai has taken pains to embody around other people, putting in painstaking effort to be seen as good and worthy of value. In other works of his, such as No Longer Human, he explains to us readers that he fears that even if he tells the truth of his existence, people will merely interpret it as a continuation of his airs and clownings. Schoolgirl and her dinner, Dazai and his flowers of buffoonery.

This book felt starkly realistic and its one of my all time favorites because of how relatable it is. Every sentence felt carefully crafted and infused with a soul of its own. Dazai is one of my favorite writers, and I cannot ever fully express my gratitude towards this book for making me feel so seen and recognized.

"Tomorrow will probably be another day like today. Happiness will never come my way. I know that."

[Tosh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whenever i put pen on to a paper or I type words I think of Osamu Dazai. The craft of his writing with the mixture of his character equals a major influence on me, and I suspect on contemporary Japanese literature as well. For instance, Mishima's major influence was Dazai. Well, sort of. He didn't want to be a Dazai, in fact, he hated his work. But the truth is hatred of Dazai's character and work was a sign of love and respect to the great decadent literary figure - and Dazai was extremely decadent in the Japanese context. Drinker, womanizer, cad, drug addict, and extremely handsome - and a writing talent that is extremely superb. Dazai is one unique writer, and a day doesn't go by where I don't think about him. Hmm, perhaps this is really an obsession on my part, but let's put that aside for the moment.

"Schoolgirl" is a snapshot of the day in the life of a young girl, with her inner thoughts, her 'childish' impressions mixed in with great awareness of her world. It reads like a narrative poem, with some quiet beautiful moments, but with a 'punk' attitude. Well, punk attitude in 1939 Tokyo! You can smell the coming disaster in these pages, and they a writer/poet can smell the culture as it happens - and Dazai is one of those writers who for sure knew how the wind was blowing at the time of his writings. This small book is under a 100 pages, but it hits hard like a heavyweight fighter. One of the great writers of the 20th Century, and "Schoolgirl" is small in size, but huge as a classic piece of literature.