The Face of Another

 

After watching Hiroshi Teshigahara's entrancing 1966 masterpiece "The Face of Another" and learning that it was based on a novel, I immediately decided to order it. 

I had never read Kobo Abe before, but after reading the novel, I can certainly understand why he garnered so much literary prestige throughout his lifetime, which included major Japanese literary prizes. 

Like its cinematic adaptation, the novel slowly burns to a disturbing climax, a style of storytelling that characterizes Japanese horror in contrast to Western horror, which throw a nonstop onslaught of blood and gore at the viewer right from the start.

Abe's 1964 novel tells the story of an engineer, Okuyama, whose face becomes disfigured through an electrical explosion. 

He then sees a psychiatrist about the creation of a potential flesh-like mask after he becomes increasingly discomforted at the thought of showing his real face in public and subsequently finds a man to serve as the model for his new face.

Following the accident, he tells his wife that he has gone away on business and moves into an apartment, switching in-and-out between his new mask and his original face, which he refers to frequently as "webs."

The majority of the novel, written under Okuyama's first-person perspective, explores his evolving personality under the mask. What starts out as fairly innocuous, including purchasing a toy gun at an arcade, slowly builds into the dark climax I was anticipating.

The catalyst for his final descent is an encounter with his wife under his mask, who he has been stalking and obsessing over the whole time.

It is particularly interesting to read his meditations on the jealousy he feels toward the new version of himself when he fantasizes about "having an affair" with his wife against his old, scarred self.

Abe is an incredible writer and "The Face of Another" holds many brilliant reflections on the human condition and the role appearance plays in how we conduct ourself.

A particularly favorite line:

"No, to say regret is off-handed, for I realized it implies a profound concern for outward appearance. My feeling was still something vague, unformulated, but it hurt like a swelling on the tongue each time I opened my mouth, like an unpleasant premonition, warning against heedless chatter."

Rating: 10/10