Yukio Mishima died on November 25, 1970. We’re nearly two weeks away from the anniversary of the author’s passing, but today I was reminded of the great episode about Mishima in the BBC art series Arena. I’ve been reading Mishima since my early twenties. Confessions of a Mask was the first novel I read — if I remember correctly, the book read like a queer, Japanese A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I’d also recommend The Sound of Waves and The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea. As much as I like those I think Sun and Steel — no kidding, a collection of essays on sunbathing and weightlifting — is probably my favorite: Mishima is a poet of the martial spirit that informed imperial Japan, and he illuminates the “sword and the chrysanthemum” which are both revered in a culture borne on both blood and beauty. Of course, Mishima’s Japan had already been abandoned by most except Mishima and a few in his circle. Their tragic end stabs downward like an exclamation point on the danger that awaits an artist out of his time.

Here’s Arena – “The Strange Case of Yukio Mishima”

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This year we remember the 65th anniversary of the publishing of Yukio Mishima’s first novel, Confessions of a Mask. One of my favorite writers and thinkers of all time, Mishima lived and died by the example that art and obsession can make great beauty if also a bloody tragedy.

Here’s the Wiki…

Mishima’s early childhood was dominated by the shadow of his grandmother, Natsuko, who took the boy, separating him from his immediate family for several years…Natsu was prone to violence and morbid outbursts, which are occasionally alluded to in Mishima’s works.[7] It is to Natsu that some biographers have traced Mishima’s fascination with death.[8] Natsu did not allow Mishima to venture into the sunlight, to engage in any kind of sport or to play with other boys; he spent much of his time alone or with female cousins and their dolls.[7]

Mishima returned to his immediate family when he was 12. His father, a man with a taste for military discipline, employed parenting tactics such as holding the young boy up to the side of a speeding train. He also raided Mishima’s room for evidence of an “effeminate” interest in literature and often ripped apart the boy’s manuscripts.

…In 1946, Mishima began his first novel, Tōzoku (盗賊?, “Thieves”), a story about two young members of the aristocracy drawn towards suicide. It was published in 1948, placing Mishima in the ranks of the Second Generation of Postwar Writers. He followed with Confessions of a Mask, a semi-autobiographical account of a young homosexual who must hide behind a mask in order to fit into society. The novel was extremely successful and made Mishima a celebrity at the age of 24.

…Mishima was considered for the Nobel Prize for Literature three times and was a favorite of many foreign publications. However, in 1968 his early mentor Kawabata won the Nobel Prize and Mishima realized that the chances of it being given to another Japanese author in the near future were slim…

The rest of Mishima’s celebrated, intense life and shocking death are illuminated in this episode of the BBC program Arena…

For more about Mishima, check out this previous post which includes a link to Paul Schrader’s outstanding biopic Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters.

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While America marks the anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, right wing politicos and lovers of literature in Japan mourn the loss of their most famous — and infamous — post-war writer every November 25. But who was Yukio Mishima and how did he die? The Guardian provides a primer:

After a failed coup attempt at Japan’s military headquarters on November 25, 1970 Mishima, the homosexual author of Forbidden Colours, sliced open his belly with a sword and then ordered his followers to decapitate him.

According to the media and politicians of the time, the suicide was also pointless: at best, an artistic performance by a showman and, at worst, a futile gesture by a deranged extremist.

The last day of Mishima’s life was a fitting end for a man who was attracted to contradictory extremes: Mishima was a poet/playwright/novelist/actor/filmmaker obsessed with masculinity, the military and Japan’s samurai culture. His work was a radical mix of both modern and traditional aesthetics. He was an intellectual who wrote an entire book on bodybuilding and suntanning. He was a married man and a father who also had gay lovers.

There are a number of good biographies about Mishima available and I’d recommend Confessions of a Mask as a great introduction to the author’s writing. Another way into the man’s life and work is the stunning, intense, gorgeous film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters which was co-written and directed by Paul Schrader in 1985.

Here is the film in its entirety:

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