I'm writing an analysis paper for this short story fault?
ault? The court still finds her testimony open for
by Akutagawa-sensei. Now I've read this back in
high school and I understood that the characters
of the samurai, his wife and the bandit each
portray the different codes of honor in Japanese
society. So our prof asked us to list the
testimonies by all the characters in the story and
pretend that we're in the position of a judge and
we have to write our own verdict. Before I share
my verdict, I'd just like to say that I find it weird
that we have to do it in the first place since this
story, from what I understand, is not meant to
have the appropriate moral ending; it's supposed
to be an empty gray area. The reader can't say
for sure who the murderer is because it's not
about who, it's more about why they all think
they committed the murder and how they're
supposed to have committed the
murder. Akutagawa-sensei's story, to my
interpretation, is not a mystery that needs to be
solved. In fact, there's no mystery at all! The
three characters admitted to the crime because
in their hearts they believed that they have
indeed killed...and that's what it's all about:
whatever virtue or principle behind their
confessions is the crucial element to their stories.
It is not a matter of truth or the authenticity of
the circumstances surrounding this crime. It is
only now a matter of perception; since the truth
is left for one's convenience and the purpose it
served to each suspect. You can believe the story
of the bandit Tajomaru, who claimed that he had
killed the samurai during a duel. But the court
has taken to account this testimony of his that
would have been the motivation for his
embellishment: 'You kill people with your power,
with your money. Sometimes you kill them on the
pretext of working for their good. It's true they
don't bleed. They are in the best of health, but all
the same you've killed them. It's hard to say who
is a greater sinner, you or me'. The bandit
had shown ethics, though deluded at that, and
hence justifying, in his story, that he had given
the samurai a chance to fight before his death.
We also included the fact that he repeated three
times during the course of his testimony that he
had no intention to kill the man. He might have
confessed to the crime because he wanted to
receive recognition for his 'humane' action even if
he had to be prosecuted for it.
You can believe the story of the woman. She
claimed to have killed her husband because she
saw the 'look of loathing' in his eyes. One had to
question as to why she didn't even bother
removing the leaves shoved in her husband's
mouth and simply asserted that he agreed with
her proposition to kill them both. It might be
possible that what the woman saw in her
husband's eyes is indeed 'loathing' but perhaps
only a reflection of what she felt for herself now
that she had been soiled by another man. It was
also suspicious that, according to her, she fell
unconscious twice during the events, leading this
court to believe that her embellishment was
motivated by her inability to form a rational
decision, given that she had been raped and
suffered trauma that was emotionally
incapacitating. She might have believed she
killed her husband because she could not kill
herself and will forever live with the shame that
she had betrayed the man she esteemed highly.
Did she truly believe that her rape was her own
dispute.
The court does not wish to take into account the
dead man's testimony but since it provides
another intriguing perspective of the crime, then
we shall take it into consideration. The samurai
confirmed that his wife had indeed betrayed him
when she was said to have followed the bandit to
become his wife. The samurai stressed that she
wanted him dead and that the bandit refused and
so he had forgiven the man for the rape of his
wife, as it may seem. But then the woman had
run off and the bandit failed to catch her. So he
releases the samurai and took his possessions
with him. You can believe the story of the dead
man; that he was overcome by sorrow and had
taken his own life. It was an honorable gesture
that the court finds deceptive and contrived;
most especially when 'someone' pulls
the knife out of his chest, indicating that there
was a fourth party involved but the existence of
this person cannot be proved otherwise. The
court was left to conclude that it might be just a
metaphorical representation of the burden of his
despair being uplifted from him when the knife
was drawn out of his heart.
The court does not believe the crime committed
by the three suspects with each of their own
admittance is to be punished by our law. We
further believe that the punishment had already
been given when they have all embellished the
truth to suit their situations. In finality, the court
leaves the verdict to the common man and
whatever shred of convictions he has as an
individual; and whether there was indeed a crime
committed that needs to be judged.
The Story
Seven characters speak to a magistrate about
their knowledge of a man found stabbed in the
chest in the woods near Kyoto after a woodcutter
discovers a dead samurai soldier in a secluded
grove. The woodcutter reports to the magistrate
the details of the scene of the crime and the
condition of the body, recounting that the well-
dressed victim was stabbed in the chest, but that
there was no sword nearby. A priest saw the
soldier with a woman and a horse the day before.
The man had a bow and a lacquered quiver
holding more than twenty arrows. An officer has
arrested a notorious thief named Tajomaru and
has no doubt that this criminal committed the
murder. Tajomaru's weakness for women and his
violent activities are well known, explains the
officer; the fact that the lacquered bow and
arrows found in Tajomaru's possession belonged
to the dead man further convince the officer that
he has arrested the right man. The quiver,
however, contains only seventeen arrows. The
thief also has a horse that matches the
description given by the priest. An old woman
approaches the magistrate and asks the court to
find her missing daughter. She defensively
acknowledges her daughter was spirited, but she
insists that the young woman was devoted to her
husband, twenty-six-year-old Takehiro.
Tajomaru confesses that he has murdered the
samurai because he wanted the man's wife:
When he saw the couple, he decided he must
have the woman. He lured Takehiro into the
dense grove by appealing to his greed, promising
to sell him some valuable swords and mirrors at a
bargain. He attacked the samurai from behind
and tied him to a tree, then went back outside
the grove where the woman waited on the horse.
He led her into the grove by telling her Takehiro
had been taken ill, and seeing her husband tied
up, she pulled out a dagger and fought Tajomaru.
She was a spirited fighter, Tajomaru agrees, but
he overcame her without difficulty. Although
murder is not difficult for him, he did not plan to
kill the husband because it was not necessary.
Although he has ravished women without
compunction on other occasions, he insists that
this time he fell in love with the woman. He
claims that she then cried that she could not bear
for two men to know of her shame, and she
suggested that the two men fight to the death
and vowed that she would go with the winner.
After twenty-three runs with the sword, a number
that demonstrates the samurai's incomparable
strength, Tajomaru finally succeeded in killing the
soldier. During the fight, the woman disappeared,
leaving her horse behind. Tajomaru appropriated
the horse and other items and rode off.
A young woman appears at a temple and
identifies herself as the wife of the victim. She
claims that she was ravished by Tajomaru while
her bound husband watched her contemptuously.
Tajomaru left immediately afterward. The wife
insisted that she could not bear for her husband
to know of her shame and suggested that they
both die. Her husband agreed that she must kill
him and then kill herself. She stabbed her
husband, but to her greater shame, she did not
have the courage to kill herself.
The spirit of the victim, speaking through a
medium, maintains that he killed himself.
Takehiro says that his wife chose to go with the
thief but insisted that Tajomaru kill her husband
before they left. Even the amoral Tajomaru grew
pale at the woman's cruel suggestion, Takehiro
asserts. Tajomaru asked Takehiro if he should kill
the woman, but she ran off and Tajomaru chased
after her. To preserve his honor, Takehiro thrust
the dagger into his own chest. As he gasped his
last breaths, he could feel someone pull the
valuable, bejeweled dagger from him.
Themes and Meanings
Rather than focusing merely on discovering the
identity of the murderer, as in most mysteries,
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa forces the reader to
examine issues involving motive and
characterization. The story's initial question—who
committed the murder?—soon yields to the more
provocative question of why anyone would
confess to a murder he or she did not commit. At
least two, and possibly all three, characters are
lying. Nor does the story simply address the issue
of varying points of view of the same event.
These characters are not honestly reporting their
distorted perceptions of what transpired. Each
presents the story in a way that makes him or her
look better, given the values of their respective
cultures. The wife professes to value her honor
above her life; her greatest guilt comes from her
ravishment by Tajomaru and her inability to carry
through with her suicide plans, not from having
killed her husband. That act, after all, was done in
accordance with the Japanese code of honor. The
thief speaks from another culture, that of
outlaws. He blatantly flaunts his lawlessness;
brags about his past crimes, which include other
murders; and even proclaims that his life is more
honest than that of the establishment, which
hypocritically exploits people and ruins lives
through the abuse of power and wealth. The
husband, whose suicide would be more honorable
than being murdered by a thief or a dishonored,
disloyal wife, wants to defend his reputation,
even after death.
All three characters cite courage as an honored
virtue. Tajomaru boasts that he is courageous,
both in his criminal exploits and in his fearless
acceptance of his fate, which is to be hanged.
This latter certainty, he argues, should give his
account credibility, as he has no reason to lie.
The wife is ashamed that she did not have the
courage to kill herself, and Takehiro's suicide
would be the ultimate act of courage.
Style and Technique
The story is divided into seven sections, each
presenting a first-person point of view of one of
the seven characters. The first four narrators are
not directly involved in the crime, and the seven
narrators are arranged in order of increasing
involvement. The woodcutter, for example, is
merely a witness and reports factual details and
makes no judgments or inferences. The priest,
who has seen the couple, does not know them
personally but comments on the brevity of life
and expresses pity for the victim. The arresting
officer seems intent on proving that he has
arrested the right man and jumps fallaciously to
the conclusion that the thief's possession of the
victim's bow and arrows is proof of his guilt. He
has a vested interest in claiming the capture of
this nefarious villain to boost his own professional
reputation. The mother, the last of the indirectly
involved characters, is concerned about the
safety and whereabouts of her daughter and feels
the need to defend her daughter's reputation.
The last three narrators, the principal characters
involved, are presented similarly in order of
increasing subjectivity. The thief is involved in the
crime, yet he feels no remorse for the acts he has
confessed to or for his other past criminal deeds;
nor does he betray any fear or regret at having
been arrested, although he will surely be hanged.
The wife, emotionally as well as physically
involved in the event, nevertheless is alive. She
has not only the murder to answer for, but also
the accusations regarding her relationship with
Tajomaru to deny. The concluding narrative, that
of the victim himself, presents the point of view
of the character most dramatically affected by
the events described. Akutagawa uses
overlapping details in the seven accounts to give
some credibility to each of the three confessions.
For example, Takehiro's claim of suicide raises
questions about the absence of the weapon, yet
he recalls someone pulling the sword from his
chest as he is dying. The priest's description of
the horse implicates Tajomaru.
Critics have noted that this story reveals the
influence of Victorian poet Robert Browning's
dramatic monologues, particularly The Ring and
the Book (1868-1869), which similarly presents
twelve different accounts of a murder. “In a
Grove,” along with Akutagawa's story
“Rashōmon,” was the basis for the
film Rashomon (1950) by Japanese director Akira
Kurosawa.
Analysis of Plot in Roman Fever
By Philip Devitt
Edith Wharton’s Roman Fever develops plot in
an interesting way. We see the present situation
unfold through the internal dialogue of Alida
Slade and Grace Ansley, and the tension that
mounts between them. But Wharton also weaves response, Grace becomes the more dominant and
in the past actions of the two friends, showing the assertive of the two. Eventually, she builds up the
years of insecurity, jealousy, and secrecy that confidence to suggest Barbara resulted from her
lead to their revelations. fling with Delphin.
Alida and Grace spend the entire story sitting After many years apart, it seems a strange
on a restaurant terrace overlooking the hills of a coincidence the two women would meet at the
Roman village. It has been years since they have same place and time. But the improbability of this
seen each other, but there is a building tension meeting does not hinder the plot. The setting is
between them, subtle at first. When they discuss meaningful to them both-- a place filled with
their daughters’ lives and the romanticism of memories and simpler times, so it isn’t surprising
moonlight, they realize how little they know they would meet there, of all places. If the setting
about each other. We soon see that this tension had been somewhere such as a circus or the
has always existed between the supposedly middle of the desert, their meeting would be a bit
intimate friends, as they sit in silence, each more random and hard to believe. But their
reflecting on their view of the other. history in Rome makes it conceivable. If anything,
Alida has always been envious of Grace. They the setting propels the plot to pick up pace. The
both come from the same social class and had views of the Palatine and the Coliseums intensify
successful husbands, but to Alida, Grace always Alida’s jealousy and rage, and the unbearable
had something she didn’t. She called Grace and tension leads her to confess.
Horace irreproachable and entertained herself Wharton’s inclusion of the past plot
with the thought of them being raided. Even in interspersed between the events of the present
her youth, Alida was jealous of Grace. The letter plot is an effective way to make the climax
she forged from Delphin urging Grace to meet compelling. There isn’t one thing in the story that
him at the Coliseum was motivated solely by her doesn’t have a purpose, as everything the ladies
insecurity about her relationship. say to each other and feel about each other, tie in
Long after being widowed, Alida finds herself with the events of the past.
envious of Grace for new, but similar reasons. But the surprise ending revealed by Grace in
She doesn’t like that Grace’s daughter Barbara is the last line leaves us with an indeterminate
more assertive when it comes to men. She wishes ending. Grace does not clearly state that Barbara
that her daughter, Jenny, would fall in love and is her daughter with Delphin, but it opens up the
lead an exciting life, but she knows that Barbara possibility. For many years, knowing Delphin was
will be the one who marries a wealthy man. Alida the one thing Grace could never have was what
despises Grace's contentment with life as she kept Alida from completely hating her. This
quietly knits. Alida still clings to the prominence irresolution leaves us wondering not only how far
she had when her husband was alive, while Grace their relationship really went, but what effects it
has learned to accept her new life. will have on Alida now that she knows the truth.
Grace’s reflection on Alida is much less
detailed, but we see that she pities her and feels
her life was "full of failures and mistakes." The
first part of the story then concludes in a
significant way, when we learn Grace has always
felt sorry for Alida. At the time, we don’t know
what exactly she is sorry for, but it foreshadows
the twist in the plot to come.
When the second part of the story begins, the
present plot seems more defined now that we
have been introduced to the past. The tension
continues to build between Alida and Grace, and
Alida becomes increasingly uncomfortable. It is
obvious she still envies Grace, and she is in
conflict with herself over whether she should tell
her she wrote the letter. She says she "must
make one more effort not to hate her." By
revealing to her that Delphin never wrote the
letter, and reminding her she could never have
him, she could feel superior to her. For once, she
could make Grace envy her.
At this point in the plot, suspense is at its
highest. We are left wondering for several
minutes what "effort" Alida will make not to hate
Grace, and as she reminds her of the story of her
great-aunt, the tension between them reaches its
breaking point. Alida says she can’t bear it any
longer and confesses the truth to Grace. This
moment builds in the present plot, but it is
propelled by the events of the past.
Alida makes her revelation thinking it will
devastate Grace and shake her life to the core.
To think for many years that the letter was from
him, when in fact he never wrote it, was sure to
take away from Grace’s happiness, Alida thought.
But Grace’s revelation that Delphin responded
delivers a blow to Alida instead.
As Alida becomes dumbfounded by Grace’s