"Perhaps ultimately it was my nature to sabotage myself no matter where I was."
"To other men, a woman I care for... is a 'sadsack girl' not even worth kissing..."
"'You mean it? You really mean it? You would die with me? You're the first person who's ever said that to me.'
"Dying without registering what it meant seemed like an excellent idea. The notion of a 'double suicide' even cheered up the both of us."
It's startling how long it took me to get 'round to Usamaru Furuya's adaptation of Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human. I think I've been conscious of this manga for about as long as I've been of Dazai's masterwork, if not a little longer: I recall learning of Furuya's manga in a quest to read more of the works published by Vertical, after having discovered Osamu Tezuka's Ode to Kirihito and Buddha when my public library restructured itself a little and moved all the "mature" manga into its own section among the science fiction novels (previously, mature manga and Western graphic novels were interspersed with general prose fiction, not remotely grouped together). As a high school student, I did not have a job (I didn't feel the need for one) and so had no money on my own, but I always planned on eventually buying some things published by Vertical, as well as other "mature" manga published from other companies. At the risk of getting off-topic, I remember finding a wealth of Hideshi Hino and Kazuo Umezu horror manga (mostly out-of-print today, it seems), and branching further into fantasies of buying other horror works, Reiko the Zombie Shop and Lychee Light Club, the latter of which I just learned today was done by the same artist as this adaptation of No Longer Human.
My point is that I wasted about a decade not reading Furuya's manga, and now all the volumes are out of print and reaching prices in the triple-digits!
But that's all hardly important. Dazai's No Longer Human holds the maybe-less-than-admirable distinction of being one of my personal favorite novels. I've read it quite a few times. I've last re-read it a couple weeks ago, and between reading this manga volume and awaiting delivery of Junji Ito's own manga adaptation, I really want to read it again rather soon. It's just a terribly fun book, for reasons many people would probably not consider it to be "fun." And so, bored at work, as I often am, and having not touched my copy of The Book of Disquiet in about nine months because it did not sit well with my being bored at work (it made things harder to stomach), I sought a small outlet to magnify my personal disdain, as is my wont, because I'm hardly a complete person and have never really learned how to fluff myself up and appear "whole," and so practically get off on Dazai's oeuvre, I decided it would be a cute diversion to give Furuya's manga a glance (it's a slow day at work anyway).
First, this is clearly more intended to be a "reimagining" of the novel than a straightforward adaptation. Everything is modernized to the twenty-first century. This, I think, ruins an important theme to the original novel, having been published some years after we (America) fucked Japan in the ass in WWII, where we might imagine the character Yozo's inability to connect with other humans might act as a distillation of the nation of Japan as a whole, displaced from history, "disqualified" (to better translate the novel's title) from being a superpower after the West clipped their balls and forbade them from ever again having a real standing army. I suppose we can argue that Yozo's story is timeless (a sentiment with which I would certainly agree) and so it does not need the political backdrop. Anyway, the main changes are that Yozo's story was published as an online blog, seemingly by the man himself (very different from the novel having him leave some notebooks with a friend who later gives them to a curious author), and the blog is discovered by a young manga-ka (Furuya?) looking for a story for his next work. The beginning of this frame-story is roughly the same as Dazai's original: our unnamed narrator sees the three disparate photos of Yozo in different times of his life (childhood, high school, and his mid-20s), and he is compelled to read Yozo's life story because of the apparently missing links between the goofy child with a fake smile, the handsome and dignified-looking teenage student, and the withered old man who is actually only 25. Usamaru Furuya then proceeds to entirely omit the novel's "First Notebook," chronicling Yozo's childhood, jumping instead to his teenage years, skipping over the character of Takeichi in order to hasten the introduction of Horiki, a plot-critical character for the bulk of Yozo's story, who is made either to be a high school student now, or otherwise Yozo is taking extracurricular painting classes alongside his basic studies (but either way it's a change from the novel). From here, the manga follows the novel somewhat more closely, expanding a bit on the political activism (not explicitly branded "communist," likely due to the Party's irrelevance in this more-modern setting) to eat up some page-count before getting to a climax with the attempted shinjuu (an aside: I should probably be fired for how often I've googled "shinjuu" at work to double-check the spelling).
While it is unfortunate Furuya limits the First Notebook's events to flashbacks, he does well with their use. Yozo gets a startling flashback to the time Takeichi prophesied his troubles with women while mid-coitus. He gets another regarding his father while staring into space at a socialist meeting. This latter is most significant as it compiles all the bits about Yozo's relationship with his father into a condensed sequence of a few pages, jamming everything together to highlight Yozo's filial anxiety, and better establishing the Kafkalike (fuck you, I refuse to say "Kafkaesque!) theme of the burden/pressure of being a son, an undercurrent charging the energy of Dazai's novel, but which often feels inconsequential when referenced between the story's very beginning and very end (the singular "fault" of the novel).
There is also a curious twist by which Yozo's resentment toward his father is brought up while on the verge of drowning in the river ("Dad... your plaything... just broke..."). It stuns me that I cannot recall the novel so clearly now, after having read it so often, and having last read it a couple weeks ago, but I cannot immediately recall Yozo seeing his suicide attempt as rebellion against his father, only that his survival brought him greater shame and I believe led to his being disowned (which happens earlier in this manga).
It's not exactly relevant to my appraisal of the overall quality of this volume, but there's a lot of somewhat graphic sex here and I was reading it at work, which was just absolutely hilarious to me. A surprising amount of cunnilingus! Dicks are censored, of course. Cunts aren't seen in too close a view, but have pubic hair blocking anything more notable. Classic Japan.
I've written too much on the subject of what Furuya does with the story as opposed to Dazai's original, but the most important contribution is Furuya's art. To me, the purpose of any given artistic medium is to play into the strengths of that very medium. Dazai must do what can only be best performed in prose. Furuya's chosen form allows for flourish in illustration. He does wonders with this. Yozo's idea of "clowning" is evolved into a concept of a clown-puppet and there are times when Yozo's fear of humans + personal shame + detachment activate a portrayal of Yozo as ball-jointed marionette, complete with strings stretching from his wrists and elbows and shoulders up into the black nothingness above him. There are times when his eyes are shown completely white, as if unpainted. Or hollow, with no eye-ball whatsoever, as when we see the clown-puppet breaking apart underwater during the suicide attempt. There are also a couple choice panels where we see humans from Yozo's perspective, with faces contorted like the classic Munch painting. And while Dazai's novel spent a good amount of time discussing Yozo's childhood paintings of the horrors he sees in mankind, Furuya limits these illustrations to a single example: Yozo's interpretation of his father's face.
(It's quite odd and unsettling to have written so much about this volume when I kinda-sorta refuse to review the novel proper. I think my belief is that I hold Dazai's opus in such high esteem that my filthy words can only sully its holiness.)