Despair and Resilience in The Midnight Library and The Beggar Student

Both The Midnight Library (2020) by Matt Haig and The Beggar Student (1940) by Osamu Dazai tackle despair, but they do so in starkly different ways.

I picked up both of these books serendipitously. I miscalculated the amount of time I needed in NYC and had several free hours before my bus left for home, so I stopped by the charming Shakespeare & Co. bookstore on Lexington Ave. My goal was to find a book that I could read in a bar while having a cocktail (or two).

Browsing the displays and recommendations led me to The Midnight Library. I was intrigued by its premise, which seemed similar to an idea I had for a novel. Ultimately, the ideas were not that similar, but I’m glad I checked to be sure. Next, I grabbed The Beggar Student because it seemed like a light, quick read. I misjudged this book by its cover. While it was a brief read, it wasn’t necessarily light, as there is significant built-in ambiguity that gives the reader pause for further consideration throughout the novella.

Despite their differences in tone and structure, both books explore despair and resilience, making for an unintentionally perfect pairing. While Haig’s novel leans into despair, optimism, and redemption, Dazai’s work reflects a quieter, more reserved exploration of despair, resilience, and simply enduring. Even through contrasting perspectives, these works serve as a lens for examining how literature might address mental health crises and the search for meaning in life.

Narrators in Crisis

Nora Seed’s attempted suicide is the entry point for her journey through alternate lives. The “midnight library” is a kind of dream space, perhaps a supernatural place if taken literally, where Nora can explore what might have been if she had made different choices throughout her life. It is through living these alternate lives—experiencing both the good and the bad of them—that she ultimately realizes her root life, with all its imperfections, is worth living.

Nora’s narrative relies heavily on the belief that our agency plays a significant role in shaping our lives. Each alternate life, made possible by somewhat straightforward alternate decisions at various points, allows her to experience those choices and the regrets that might come with them. Haig’s writing is straightforward and takes an almost therapeutic tone. The novel is written to be accessible despite attempting to tackle heavy themes.

However, its simplicity and pandering disappointed me. It felt too light for the weight of the content. Additionally, Nora’s alternate lives often portrayed her as unbelievably extraordinary—a former Olympic medalist, the lead singer of a stadium-filling band, a six-figure motivational speaker, a world-renowned scientist, and a Cambridge philosophy professor. While this conceit is meant to emphasize Nora’s untapped potential, it detracts from the novel’s relatability. Some readers may infer that happiness lies in exceptional achievement rather than the ordinary pleasures Nora should find solace in. Put simply, the conceit felt at odds with the book’s broader message about finding meaning in everyday life.

In contrast, The Beggar Student presents a more fragmented and introspective narrative, following a struggling, disillusioned writer and the titular student, whose apparent suicide attempt is central to the story’s tension.

Dazai blurs the lines between fiction and autobiography in this novella. The struggling writer and narrator appear to be thinly veiled stand-ins for the author himself, who grappled with addiction, depression, and alienation throughout his life. The novella’s setting at the Tamagawa Aqueduct—a place central to the story’s melancholy—gains deeper resonance when one considers that Dazai himself would later drown himself in the same location in 1948, eight years after the novella’s publication. This autobiographical quality adds an undeniable weight to the story’s themes of despair and endurance.

The student, meanwhile, represents a more visceral response to despair. His actions are impulsive and emotionally raw, contrasting with the writer’s introspective demeanor. Together, these characters navigate their struggles by seemingly talking past one another, revealing the fragmented ways people approach despair.

There was much I found relatable in this story, despite it being written and taking place more than 80 years ago within a culture I am only vaguely familiar with. For one, the struggling writer sees his art as both salvation and torment—a sentiment many writers and creatives can relate to. The contrast between the writer’s quiet endurance and the student’s emotional impulses highlights the myriad ways individuals cope with despair, from internalized struggle to outward cries for help.

Despair and the Possibility of Change

Haig’s novel revolves around the idea that change is always possible, even in one’s darkest moments. Nora’s journey through the midnight library offers her the opportunity to find meaning in her life and recognize the value of what she already has. The novel suggests that despair, while deeply painful, is a temporary state that can be overcome through self-reflection and support.

While this message is hopeful, I found it oversimplifying the complexities of mental health. Nora’s transformation feels inevitable, and the novel neatly resolves her problems, leaving little room for the unresolved messiness of real life.

In The Beggar Student, change is not a central theme. Instead, Dazai explores the act of enduring one’s despair. The writer and narrator carry on in a world where their struggles remain unresolved, and they must continue grappling with the feeling of defeat and the reality of despair.

This lack of resolution feels closer to real life. Outside of stories, clarity and major personal transformation are unfortunately rare exceptions, not the norm. Dazai’s portrayal of despair as a condition to be endured rather than overcome makes the novella more challenging but also more poignant.

Existential Takeaways

Ultimately, The Midnight Library and The Beggar Student offer contrasting views on despair and resilience. Haig’s novel suggests that change is always possible and that life’s meaning can be rediscovered even in the darkest moments. While I find his message true and worthwhile, his approach to delivering it feels flippant and ultimately counterproductive. Dazai’s work, on the other hand, portrays despair as something to be endured, with no guarantees of resolution or redemption. This perspective, while poignant, could be troubling for someone in the midst of a mental health crisis, particularly if it discourages them from seeking help. However, the conversations between the struggling writer and the student subtly remind us of the importance of reaching out to others. Through this kind of shared therapy, they wrestle with their struggles and ultimately find ways to move forward.

Despite neither being perfect, both perspectives have value. Haig’s optimism might provide comfort and hope to some. Dazai’s realism and ambiguity, while less comforting, capture the complexity and messiness of real-life despair, but implicitly share the message that talking through your problems with others could help you find the resolve to carry on.

Conclusion

While neither novel will find its way onto my favorites list, both offer worthwhile explorations of despair and resilience. Haig’s accessible and explicitly therapeutic approach provides a sense of closure, while Dazai’s fragmented narrative invites readers to sit with discomfort and uncertainty, offering a more subtle and implicit form of therapy.

The inclusion of the Tamagawa Aqueduct in The Beggar Student—both as a central setting and the place where Dazai ended his own life—adds an undeniable layer of poignancy, bridging the story and the author’s tragic reality.

Together, these works remind us that literature has the power to illuminate the darkest corners of the human experience, whether through hope or through a raw reflection of reality.