Late Chrysanthemum

PDF EBook by Lane Dunlop

EBook Description

Don't tell Yukio Mishima, but the more I read the more I fall in love with Osamu Dazai. Late Chrysanthemum PDF EBook How about this for an opening:
"The more I say, the less people believe me. All of the people I meet are on their guard against me. When I go for a friendly visit, just wanting to see a human face, they greet me with a why- PDFhave-you-come expression. It's unbearable even to think about."

Adorable, huh? And then from the same:
"Yesterday evening I was sitting in the kitchen, cutting up scallions, when from the field behind our house I heard a little boy sadly calling for his big sister. He was starting to cry. I laid down the knife, and thought. If I had a little brother or a little sister who loved me that much and called to me with tears, my life would not have to be this lonely..."

His "Memories" is the best fun. Couldn't help thinking of Yukio and his, probably more famous, "boy's first wank" anecdote when Dazai was sharing: "It was something that two of the menservants had taught me, but one night my mother, who lay beside me, suspicious of the movement of my quilt, asked me what I was doing. Terribly flustered, I replied that my hip hurt and that I was massaging it. If that's so, you should rub it instead of just beating it, my mother said sleepily. For a while, I rubbed and stroked my hip in silence. In my memories of my mother, there are many lonely things."

You just know Dazai was the kid Yukio wished he'd been: "Fleeing instruction with the five or six students who liked me, I would sprawl out with them on the banks of a marsh at the back of the pine forest and talk about the girl students. Tucking up our kimonos, we would compare the sparse public hairs that had started to grow there, and goose each other."

As for the rest: bunched up at the start were three stories about looking at an animal in a river, which seemed an unhappy coincidence. Hayashi's "A Late Chrysanthemum" was cute. Like this book? Read online this: There Once Lived a Mother Who Loved Her Children, Until They Moved Back In, It's NEVER Too Late And You're NEVER Too Old.

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