Kokoro

Kokoro’s structure is the primary feature that made it so rewarding. The student’s point of view is fickle and recognizably youthful. His growing interest in Sensei also feels modern — the rejection of your familial values for ones that seem more self-assured, obsession with the unknown, looking for deeper meaning to life. His lack of thought for his father’s illness and inability to connect with it even when he returns home is not surprising, and sets us up for the grand reveal in the third portion.

Sensei’s note rips the mask off of his character and reveals self-loathing that was very realistically written. Rather than a mystery, Sensei’s past is meant to be predictable, as parts one and two already reveal the ending in full. The confession is a forced march for the reader to feel Sensei’s full guilt and explain his reticence to engage with life fully. The fact that the book ends with the letter and no epilogue was a great stylistic choice as well as a cherry on Sensei’s own selfish behavior — drawing the student from his dying father and denying him any further role in the tale.