Schoolgirl [1939/2011] by Osamu Dazai (trans. Allison Markin Powell) – ★★★★

The green of a May cucumber has a sadness like an empty heart, an aching, ticklish sadness. Schoolgirl is a short novella where we follow the thoughts of one Japanese schoolgirl for just one day, from the moment she opens her eyes in the morning (“Almost the same. Absolutely empty”) to her concluding “Goodnight”. While she exhibits the usual teenage angst, telling us of her frustrations, anxieties and insecurities, tinged with doses of depression and apathy, her existence also momentarily turns to true delight as she finds small things to appreciate around her throughout the day.

As usual, Dazai (No Longer Human) holds a mirror to the Japanese society, and its fault are glaring as seen through the eyes of this slightly haughty, self-absorbed teenage girl. We become privy to her curious train of thought that also indirectly ridicules the societal hypocrisy and conformity. It is a very short novella with highly personal musings, but Dazai’s usual broader themes of shame, alienation and identity are also clearly sticking out. Though young, the schoolgirl is already experiencing some kind of an existential exhaustion, as well as searches for her identity, awakening to all the flaws around her and inside her, and even pining for the past when her sister still lived in the house and her father was still alive. While trying to win the affection of her distant mother who devotes herself to others, the heroine also wonders what it would take for her to preserve her sense of individuality in this society so clearly obsessed with conforming to the expectations of others and “keeping up appearances”. Will this attempt to stick to the ideals of her childhood be worth it at all in the end?

Continue reading “Japanese Fiction: Schoolgirl, & The Little House” →