The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai

Author:Osamu Dazai [Dazai, Osamu]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Literary, Science, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780811200325
Google: iZEqJ5Htf2UC
Amazon: 0811200329
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 1956-12-15T03:00:00+00:00

I pray for an answer.

To Mr. Uehara Jiro. (My Chekhov. M.C.)

P.S. I have recently been putting on a little weight. I think it is less that I am turning into a brute creature than that I have at last become human. This summer I read a novel (just one) by D. H. Lawrence.

No answer has come from you, and I am writing again. The letter I sent the other day was underhanded and full of snares. I suppose that you saw through every one of them. Yes, it's true. I tried to insert a maximum of cunning into every line of the letter. I imagine that you thought that my purpose was merely to elicit money from you to save my life. I don't deny this. However, I would like you to know, if you'll excuse me for saying so, that if my only wish was for a patron I should not have chosen you especially. I have the impression that quite a few rich old men would be willing to care for me. As a matter of fact, not long ago I had something like a proposal. You may even know the gentleman's name — he is a widower over sixty, a member of the Academy of Arts, I believe; this great artist came here to the mountains in order to ask my hand. He used to be a neighbor of ours when we lived in Nishikata Street, and we met him occasionally at neighborhood meetings. Once, it was an evening in autumn as I recall, when Mother and I passed in our car in front of this artist's house, he was standing absent-mindedly by his gate. Mother nodded slightly to him from the car window, at which his peevish, sallow face suddenly turned a brilliant red.

"I wonder if it can be love," I said playfully. "He's in love with you, Mother!"

"No," Mother calmly answered, as if to herself. "He's a great man."

It seems to be our family's custom to honor artists.

The artist sent a proposal for my hand to Mother, by way of a certain prince, one of Uncle Wada's cronies, explaining that he had lost his wife some years ago. Mother suggested that I make a direct reply to the artist in whatever way I saw fit. Without giving it very much thought, I dashed off a note to the effect that I had at present no intention of remarrying.

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