PATIENT X
The Case-Book of
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa
DAVID PEACE
For A;
in memory of Mark Fisher, William Miller and all the ghosts of our lives.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Author’s Preface
After the Thread, Before the Thread
Hell Screens
Repetition
Jack the Ripper’s Bedroom
A Twice-Told Tale
The Yellow Christ
After the War, Before the War
The Exorcists
After the Disaster, Before the Disaster
‘Saint Kappa’
The Spectres of Christ
After the Fact, Before the Fact
After Words
Bibliography
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By the Same Author
Copyright
Kappa was born out of my dégoût with many things, especially with myself.
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, 1927
Author’s Preface
These are the stories of Patient X in one of our iron castles. He will tell his tales to anyone with the ears and the time to listen.
Some days he appears younger than his years, some days older, emaciated one day, bloated the next, the pull and the pain of our three worlds, their spectres and their visions, fragmenting and splintering his features into a thousand selves as he relives the horrors of a lifetime, before he was brought to this place; how he … No, no, let us leave such details for now.
He told his stories at great length and in close detail as I listened with the physician in charge. All the time he spoke, he kept his arms tightly clasped around his knees, rocking back and forth, repeatedly glancing out beyond the iron grille of the narrow window, where hung a sky overcast and sombre, threatening an immense and endless darkness.
I have tried to set down in writing his stories – already-said, already-told and lived – with as much accuracy and fidelity as I can collect and command. But if anyone is dissatisfied or distrusts my notes, then you should seek out the source yourself. No doubt, Patient X will welcome you with a polite bow, guide you to the hard chair, and then calmly begin retelling his tales, a resigned and melancholy smile playing upon his lips as he speaks.
But be warned: when he comes to the end of his stories, the look on his face will change; he will leap to his feet, shake his fists wildly, and begin thundering away at you: ‘Quack, quack! Get out! You coward! You liar! You’re on the make, like all the rest! Quack, quack! Get out! You cannibal! You vampire! You voyeur! Quack, quack! Get out! Just save the children …’
After the Thread, Before the Thread
– Among the palm flowers, among the bamboo,
Buddha has already fallen asleep.
By the roadside, a withered fig tree,
Christ, too, seems to be dead.
Yet we need to rest,
Even before the stage set.
(If we look behind that set,
We find only a patched-up canvas) –
‘The Collected Works of Tock’, in Kappa,
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, 1927
1
And now, children, let me tell you a story about Gautama and Jesus.
It begins one day as Gautama is strolling in Paradise by the banks of the Lotus Pond. The blossoms on the pond are perfect white pearls, and from their golden centres wafts a never-ending fragrance. I think it must have been dawn in Paradise.
But as Gautama was strolling he heard the sound of weeping, a most unusual sound in Paradise. Gautama stepped down towards the edge of the pond and there, before the blossoms, amidst the fragrance, he saw Jesus kneeling beside the pond, by the water, staring down through the spreading lotus leaves to the spectacle below. For directly beneath the Lotus Pond of Paradise lie the lower depths of Hell, and as Jesus peered through the crystalline pool, he could see the River of Sins and the Mountain of Guilt as clearly as if he were viewing pictures in a peep-box.
And he was weeping at what he saw:
Down there was a man named Ryūnosuke, who was writhing in Hell with all the other sinners. This man had once been an acclaimed author but he had led a most selfish life, hurting even the people who loved him.
But now Gautama recalled how Ryūnosuke had performed at least one single act of kindness. Idling beside the Shinobazu Pond one day, Ryūnosuke had noticed a small spider creeping along the wayside. His first thought had been to stamp it to death, but as he raised his foot, he told himself, ‘No, no. Even this tiny creature is a living thing. To take its life for no reason would be too cruel.’
And so Ryūnosuke let the spider pass him by unharmed.
Hearing Jesus weeping, seeing his tear-stained face, Gautama decided to reward Ryūnosuke by delivering him from Hell, if possible. And, by happy chance, Gautama turned to see a heavenly spider spinning a beautiful thread atop a lotus leaf the colour of shimmering jade. Gently lifting the spider thread, Gautama handed it to Jesus. And now Jesus lowered the thread straight down between the white blossoms, through the crystal waters to the depths far, far below.
2
Here, with the other sinners at the lowest point of the lowest Hell, Ryūnosuke was endlessly floating up and sinking down in the River of Sins. Wherever he looked there was only pitch darkness, and when a faint shape did pierce the shadows, it was the glint of a needle on the horrible Mountain of Guilt, which only heightened his sense of doom. All was silent, and when a faint sound did break the silence, it was only the feeble sigh of a fellow sinner. As you can imagine, those who had fallen this far had been so worn down by their tortures in the seven other hells that they no longer had the strength to cry out. Great writer though he once had been, now Ryūnosuke could only thrash about like a dying frog as he choked on his sins.
And then, children, what do you think happened next? Yes, indeed: raising his head, Ryūnosuke chanced to look up towards the sky above the River of Sins and saw the gleaming silver spider thread, so slender and so delicate, slipping stealthily down through the silent darkness from the high, high heavens, coming straight for him!
Ryūnosuke clapped his hands in joy. If only he could take hold
