Fantastic Metropolis

The scene of possession is also interesting for another reason as it offers an insight into one of the author’s influences for this story. When the narrator relays the assistant’s description of the painter in his trance, he says, “The wrinkled face had turned pale, oozing large drops of perspiration. His mouth was wide open as if gasping for breath, with his sparse teeth showing between dry lips. The thing moving briskly in his mouth, as if pulled by a string or wire was his tongue.” One is reminded of the unfortunate Valdemar, existing in a hypnotic twilight state between life and death in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar,” also a story with an unreliable narrator and the voice of a “drowned man.” Both Valdemar and Yoshihide glimpse a vision of Hell. The description of the operation of the tongue is especially like that given by Poe for the way his living/dead character communicates with the doctor narrator of that story. There are other glimpses of Western literary influence woven into the story—the figure of the monkey, serving as a kind of double for the painter, or perhaps his soul, is reminiscent of the monkey in Le Fanu’s “Green Tea.” On the other hand, the monkey has a homegrown symbolism in Shinto mythology. Again, with Akutagawa, there is no definitive declaration that we are to make any more of these items than what they offer at face value.

Yoshihide completes the painting of the screen but for one image that he has envisioned and must incorporate in it but can not execute unless he sees it in actuality. This is the image of a royal carriage pulled by oxen, burning as it falls into Hell. In the carriage there is a beautiful courtesan, her long dark hair aflame, and she is writhing in agony while being burned alive. The painter tells the Great Lord that he can not complete the scene unless he actually sees such a carriage on fire. The Lord smiles darkly and acquiesces.

Not to ruin the story for those who have not read it yet, I will stop here in my description of the plot. Suffice it to say, the ending of the piece is profoundly terrifying, told in Akutagawa’s restrained, crystal clear style. Even when you are finished reading it, though, it will probably still be necessary to go back and piece the “full” story together by investigating the various motivations of the characters. The Hell Screen, in this sense, is a mystery, abounding in subtle clues and ambiguities. One wonders if the evil committed herein is the result of tyranny, artistic arrogance or dark magic. The reader can’t help but try to see either the Great Lord or Yoshihide as the villain behind the resultant tragedy. It may very well be that Akutagawa is pointing to the fact that it is not just one individual but an amalgamation of all of the factors involved that lead to the horrendous outcome.

Some critics see the character of Yoshihide as a stand in for Akutagawa, himself, in their shared obsession for their respective artistic pursuits. The author’s art for art’s sake approach to style and promotion of reason over emotion also made him unpopular with many in the ten years when most of his incredible stories were written. Perhaps Yoshihide is misunderstood by the narrator and the court and what seems like arrogance to them is really a fierce dedication to his work. Yoshihide’s “situation” at the end of the story does mirror Akutagawa’s at the end of his own life.

If you should go looking for this story, it might not be easy to find. The collection I read it in is out of print—The World of Japanese Fiction, edited by Arthur O. Lewis and Yoshinobu Hakutani. There is a collection of Akutagawa’s fiction in print and available on Amazon.com. It contains “The Hell Screen,” and has a nice introduction about the author’s life. I have a copy of it somewhere but can’t find it. The cover is red with yellow and blue stripes superimposed over a portrait of Akutagawa. Much of the information concerning the author’s life, I culled from The World of Japanese Fiction and from an Akutagawa website at http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/akuta.htm. There are quite a few other sites on the web devoted to his work as well. Should you read his story, I hope you enjoy it.

“The Hell Screen of Akutagawa” first appeared in s1ngularity in 2003.

Jeffrey Ford is the author of a trilogy of novels from Eos Harper Collins—The Physiognomy, Memoranda, The Beyond. His most recent novel, The Portrait of Mrs. Charbuque (Morrow), was published in June 2002 as was his first story collection, The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant & Other Stories (Golden Gryphon Press). His short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines—including Fantasy & Science Fiction, SCI FICTION and Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet—and anthologies such as The Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror, The Green Man: Tales From the Mythic Forest, Leviathan 3, and The Journal of Pulse Pounding Narratives.

Ford lives in South Jersey with his wife, Lynn, and two sons, Jack and Derek. He teaches Writing and Early American Literature at Brookdale Community College in Monmouth County, New Jersey.