The Setting Sun

“Kazuko, you mustn’t eat that way. You should try to make breakfast the meal you enjoy most.”

Kazuko has already stated her desire to eat in the same way that her mother eats, yet her mother encourages her to view meals in an entirely different way. Implicit in her advice is the tacit acknowledgment that her daughter is not like her. Both Kazuko and her mother are aware that Kazuko does not possess her mother’s grace, yet neither wants to explicitly state it.

“Mother understands less of money matters than a child, and when Uncle Wada described to her our situation, her only reaction apparently was to ask him to do whatever he thought best.”

Kazuko writes reverently about her aristocratic mother. She admires her mother, yet accepts that in many ways, such as financial matters, her mother has no pragmatic understanding of the world. Kazuko’s mother deals with the family’s dwindling finances by delegating all financial matters to Uncle Wada, rather than taking responsibility herself. Her helplessness reinforces the decline of the old order.

“Naoji and I had taken advantage of her to grow up without concerning ourselves about anything.”

Both Kazuko and Naoji admire their mother’s aristocratic grace, yet they have been aware for a long time of the many ways they can manipulate her and avoid responsibilities themselves. Now, they feel guilty about the way they have behaved, recognizing the damaging effect this has had on all their lives.

“It wasn’t anything, was it? Only firewood that was meant to be burned.”

Kazuko is embarrassed to have caused a fire that nearly burns down the village. Her mother comforts her by alluding to the idea that the fate of the wood was to be burned. Like the family’s fall from grace, no one is to blame for how fate unfolds. Kazuko’s mother tries to find comfort in her lack of agency but instead reveals her powerlessness.

“I know that the aristocracy is now not what it once was, but if it must perish in any case, I would like to see it go down as elegantly as possible.”

Kazuko accepts that she is witnessing the end of the aristocracy in Japan. Her mother, rather than herself, is the final member of this social class. Kazuko is left behind to negotiate the terms of the exit, hoping to go down “as elegantly as possible” while accepting that she will never enjoy the status or privilege that her family once enjoyed.

“Idiotically enough, all that remains of my war experiences is the pair of sneakers.”

For many people, the war was a time of death and suffering. For a member of an aristocratic family like Kazuko, the horror of the war was most keenly felt in the loss of status. Being made to wear sneakers and perform manual labor was a symbolic demonstration that her family’s status—like that of many aristocrats—had come to an end. These brief references to the war speak to The Lingering Effects of Trauma in a defeated, post-war Japan.

“Lovers—what a thing to say. It was nothing but groundless suspicion on my husband’s part.”

Kazuko’s marriage ended because of her husband’s paranoia. Still, she is haunted by rumors of an affair that she insists was not real, as her husband’s accusations have damaged her social reputation. Kazuko never truly loved her husband, but the divorce continues to be damaging as the gossip never dissipated, reflecting the lingering effects of trauma.

“A sensation of helplessness, as if it were utterly impossible to go on living.”

Kazuko opens Chapter 3 with a blunt statement of helplessness. The statement sets the mood of the chapter and the mood of her situation, providing the audience with an insight into her state of mind. Kazuko is caught in a deep depression; she has so much to be sad about that she can barely describe it.

“I can swear even before Goethe that I am a superbly gifted writer.”

Throughout his life, Naoji has been convinced of his genius. Even in his private journals, where he does not need to perform for other people, he is certain that he could be a great writer. He blames everyone around him for failing to appreciate his genius, rather than reflecting on his own lack of talent. Naoji’s misplaced confidence reflects the decline of the old order while reflecting the central motif of literature in the text.

“Somehow I intend to cure myself before she learns of it.”

Naoji feels intense shame over his substance misuse disorder because he is scared of disappointing his mother. Just as he is deluded about his talents as a writer, he is deluded about his ability to cure himself of his opium dependency before his mother finds out. Naoji’s life is so tragic because he fails repeatedly in the eyes of the one person he does not want to disappoint, so must live with the perpetual shame of failing his mother.

“I’ve seen a real alcoholic, and it’s entirely different.”

Kazuko resists Mr. Uehara’s attempts to define her and her existence. He is alluding to a broader, social definition of alcohol use disorder, almost as an attempt to excuse his own vices. Kazuko shows her capacity for independent thought by pushing back on this. His version of reality does not correspond to her own experiences.

“My present life is unendurable. It is not a matter of like or dislike—we (my mother, Naoji, and myself)—cannot possibly go on living this way.”

Kazuko’s statement about the misery of her existence and the plight of her family becomes something of an ominous prophecy. She is correct to predict that they cannot continue in this manner, and they will not. Kazuko’s darkening mood reflects the decline of the old order, foreshadowing the decisions she will make at the novel’s end to break with the past.

“Artists, whatever their age, seem to indulge in the most childish, irresponsible pranks.”

Kazuko rejects the proposal of an elderly artist. He promises her a comfortable life and a way to retain her social status, yet she cannot bring herself to marry him. His proposal seems like little more than a childish prank, something she believes is not suitable for the aristocracy. This shows her lack of self-awareness, however, as her brother is more irresponsible than most people, as well as a budding artist in his own right. Kazuko is simply looking for a reason to turn down the artist, so she engages in delusion.

“I gather that the usual mistress has a hard lot.”

When she offers herself to Mr. Uehara, Kazuko acknowledges that most mistresses do not have easy lives. Nevertheless, she shows her vestigial aristocratic sense of superiority, hinting that she believes that she will be immune from such stress and suffering. Kazuko cannot help but think of herself as different from most women, hinting at The Persistence of Optimism.

“Were these the days of The Tale of Genji, what I am saying now would not be anything exceptional, but today—oh, my ambition is to become your mistress and the mother of your child.”

The Tale of Genji is a classic work of Japanese literature written by Murasaki Shikibu in the early 11th century. Kazuko refers to this period to allude to a glorious, fictional past from which she feels increasingly alienated. Kazuko’s invocation of a literary work reflects the important motif of literature, which she uses as a touchstone for trying to determine her future.

“It was painful for me to realize that Naoji, even such as he was, had become the mainstay of Mother’s pleasure in life.”

A painful realization for Kazuko is that she can do nothing to displace her brother from her mother’s preferences. She takes care of her sick mother at a time when their family is in peril, while Naoji flings himself into substance misuse disorder and steals from the family to support his dependency. Kazuko does what she can for her mother and disapproves of her brother’s actions, yet nothing she does can elevate her above Naoji in their mother’s mind.

“Mother’s chosen reading matter is Hugo, Dumas pere et fils, Musset, and Daudet, but I know that even such hooks of sweet romances are permeated with the smell of revolution.”

Kazuko believes that her reading material is more inherently revolutionary than her mother’s chosen books. She dismisses these as “sweet romances,” even though writers like Hugo wrote in detail about revolutions and social change. There is a quiet revolutionary spirit hidden in her mother’s choice of literature, yet Kazuko is unable to recognize it.

“Man was born for love and revolution.”

Kazuko produces a comforting mantra in a time of great social change, reflecting the persistence of optimism. She tells herself that humankind is destined for love and revolution, throwing her emotions and her situation on the altar of fate. Change is destined and fated, she wants to assure herself, so she is not responsible for her own suffering. This phrase is repeated later, whenever Kazuko needs comfort.

“The Emperor has been liberated too.”

World War II has caused great social upheaval in Japan, so much so that even the Emperor has been forced to change his way of life. Kazuko and her mother examine pictures of the Emperor in the newspaper in an almost reverential fashion, assuring themselves that the Emperor, the head of the aristocracy, is as liberated as they are. They assure one another that the Emperor is happy to avoid confronting the decline of the old order.

“I did not actually consider them my enemies, but I could be quite sure that one day this woman and child would think of me in those terms and hate me.”

In her desperation, Kazuko visits Mr. Uehara’s house. She meets his wife and child, the people whom he must betray if he accepts Kazuko’s proposal to become his mistress. Despite this, she refuses to see them as her enemies or even her rivals, though she accepts that they may feel different in the future. Kazuko differentiates herself from them but accepts their point of view, demonstrating a degree of empathy that she has previously struggled to show.

“Whatever I write now is stupid and depressing. The twilight of life. The twilight of art. The twilight of mankind. What bathos!”

Though the novel charts the decline of the aristocracy in postwar Japan, there are signs that other people are struggling with the social upheaval. The previously successful novelist Mr. Uehara can no longer write anything that he likes. He feels himself to be in the twilight of his career, though blames the downfall of art and the country for his failures. To him, the world seems like it is ending. His lack of faith in his work once more speaks to the important motif of literature in the text.

“You aristocrats are not only absolutely incapable of understanding our feelings, but you despise them.”

Mr. Uehara’s criticism of the aristocracy is that they are incapable of sympathy for the lower social classes. This lack of sympathy turns into outright antagonism, he claims. Uehara is unable to recognize the irony of his accusation, however, as he is equally unable to sympathize with other social classes and equally as liable toward antagonism.

“I can’t return to the world I abandoned, and all the ‘people’ give me (with a fulsome politeness that is filled with malice) is a seat in the visitor’s gallery.”

For most of his life, Naoji has felt trapped between social classes. He despises the aristocracy, though he was born into it. His attempts to integrate himself into other social classes are unsuccessful, as he is always seen as an outsider. He finds himself caught between two worlds, accepted in neither. Naoji’s life is one of perpetual alienation, which becomes the foundation of his depression.