Enchi Fumiko
Among those who have encountered her in English, Enchi Fumiko is best known
for Masks (1958; translated by Juliet Winters Carpenter and available
as a Vintage paperback), a novel marked by a coldness that is both elegant and
repellent. This shocking account of sexual deception and betrayal is made especially
vivid by its clever exploitation of supernatural themes.
Masks tells the story of a middle-aged poet named Mieko, her widowed
daughter-in-law Yasuko, and two men whom Mieko manipulates into affairs with
Yasuko. In a lush atmosphere redolent with traces of the past--old treatises
on spirit possession in classic literature, mysterious portraits, austere masks
and ornate costume robes from the Noh drama--Mieko weaves a complicated plot
to resurrect her lost son and revenge herself on her long-dead husband. Though
she is frequently described as a witch, she does nothing which can be taken
as actually supernatural; the title of the novel, which seems at first to refer
to the contrast between Mieko's expressionless face and her tumultuous inner
life, also implies that stories of witches and possession are themselves masks
for women's frustration and anger at their inability to control their own lives.
Enchi Fumiko was born in the Asakusa section of Tokyo in 1905. After dropping
out of the Girls' High School of the Japan Women's University, she was tutored
in French, English, and classical Chinese; she also read widely in European
and Japanese literature. At the age of twenty, influenced by early experiences
attending the Kabuki theater with her parents and grandmother, she began her
writing career as a playwright. Following her debut publication, a 1935 collection
of plays, she turned to fiction as well.
In 1945 Enchi's home and all her possessions burned during an air raid, and
for several years immediately after the war she struggled with uterine cancer
and surgical complications. Although she had trouble gaining recognition once
she began writing again, after winning an award in 1954 her output dramatically
increased, and she produced one acclaimed work after another. She was awarded
the Cultural Medal in 1985, a year before her death at the age of eighty-one.
Enchi is well-known for her extensive knowledge of and use of material from
the Japanese classics, especially works of the Heian (794-1185) and Edo (1600-1867)
periods. Her father, Ueda Kazutoshi (1867-1937), was a famous scholar of literature
and linguistics; in addition to being influenced by his passion for the theater,
she was exposed to his personal library of classical works from a very young
age. As well as providing material for her fiction and other original works,
this experience led to one of her most demanding undertakings: a complete modern
Japanese translation of the Tale of Genji, the most celebrated of the
Heian classics.
This long narrative, written by Murasaki Shikibu, an early 11th century court
lady, is often called the world's first novel. Stretching over a period of 75
years, it centers on the life of a prince who is made a commoner for lack of
political support; through his mastery of courtly arts (and strategies) he achieves
de facto control of the land amid many romantic entanglements. The fairy-tale
aspects of this plot are balanced by the narrative's intense psychological depth
and concern for the consequences of Genji's amorous adventures. At present,
there are two full-length English versions: Arthur Waley's, a classic in its
own right for its stately prose (Everyman's Library, Knopf, 1993) and Edward
Seidensticker's, which attempts to preserve the atmosphere of the original (Random
House, 1983). Incidentally, a third English version, by Royall Tyler, is due
from Penguin in the near future.
This great work, which Enchi first began reading at the age of ten, is also
an important source for much of her fiction; although Masks is immediately
accessible without such prior knowledge, its richness and complexity are more
easily grasped if the reader is familiar with the Tale of Genji. Many
events of the novel are eerie echoings or reversals of occurrences in its classic
source; furthermore, Mieko's own interpretation of the Heian classic both reveals
an affair she had with a younger man and explains Enchi's themes of resentment,
manipulation, and revenge.
An older woman's illicit relationships with younger men are also taken up in
"Blind Man's Buff" (1962; trans. Beth Cary, in The Mother of Dreams
and Other Short Stories: Portrayals of Women in Modern Japanese Fiction,
ed. Makoto Ueda; Kodansha, 1986), a disturbing account of a middle-aged former
geisha's delayed response to the mountain-top suicide of a young artist with
whom she had been in love.
Another example of past suffering taking on poignant new meaning is provided
by the blistering conclusion of the other Enchi novel available in English,
The Waiting Years (1957; trans. John Bester; Kodansha, 1971). Tomo, the
long-suffering heroine, puts up with years of callous mistreatment by her powerful
politician husband. The story opens with her on a mission to find a concubine
for him; as time goes by, she is forced to care for a series of women whom he
brings into the house for his own purposes, including even their own daughter-in-law.
Enchi's vivid scenes of domestic life in this disturbing setting subtly depict
the inner lives of several of those involved, especially Tomo herself and Suga,
the oldest concubine. It is not until the very end of the novel that Tomo allows
herself to protest her husband's behavior, and even then it is by a means so
implicit that it is likely to leave the reader with a desolate sense of futility.
"The Flower-Eating Crone" (translated by Lucy North and included in
the excellent Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories, ed. Theodore W.
Goossen, 1997) is a less depressing look back at an aging woman's past. This
whimsical story tells how an encounter with a nearly blind, blossom-gobbling
old woman leads the narrator to re-experience an affair-that-never-was.