“The Japanese Quince” is the most widely anthologized short story by British writer John Galsworthy and is considered a miniature masterpiece of early 20th-century naturalism. Only slightly more than 1,000 words, the story presents a character sketch of a man named Mr. Nilson. Though modest in scale, the story is rich in imagery, symbolism, and social commentary.

The story is now in the public domain. This guide refers, by paragraph, to the original edition of the story found on pages 247-253 of Galsworthy’s 1910 collection The Motley.

The story opens with Nilson experiencing a strange sensation in his throat and chest as he begins his morning routine in his dressing room in a fashionable London neighborhood. Nilson finds the feeling strange but is unable to explain it; instead, he tries to ignore the discomfort as he looks out the window into the garden he shares with neighboring houses where a little tree in full blossom catches his eye. He is preoccupied with thoughts about stock prices and briefly examines himself in the mirror. The narrator says, “Resuming some meditations on the price of Tintos, he took up an ivory-backed hand-glass and scrutinised his face,” and he felt satisfied that his eyes “wore a reassuring appearance of good health” (Paragraph 2).

Nilson goes downstairs, picks up the morning paper from the sideboard, and decides to walk in the garden while waiting for his breakfast. He loops around the circular path a couple of times, but the odd sensation is still there. His thoughts about the “faint aching just above his heart” (Paragraph 5) are interrupted by a blackbird’s song, and he looks up to see the bird perched in the little tree he had noticed from his window. Nilson stands transfixed by the scene, smiling and taking in the colorful details of the tree in bloom. Nilson’s reverie is interrupted by the sudden realization that someone is standing near him.

At first, Nilson feels annoyed that he must share this moment with someone else, who turns out to be his neighbor, Mr. Tandram. The encounter is awkward, as Nilson is “doubtful as to his proper conduct” (Paragraph 6). The two men, though neighbors, have not yet formally met. The narrator describes Tandram with the identical words that were earlier used to characterize Nilson. The men are copies of each other though Nilson does not seem to realize this fact. After some small talk about the weather, the subject turns to the tree. A plaque on the tree identifies it as a “Japanese quince,” an “exotic,” flowering ornamental.

Some brief, formulaic conversation ensues, during which the men exchange facts about blackbirds and flowering trees. They seem to be warming up to each other; Tandram looks at Nilson “in an almost friendly way” (Paragraph 17), and Nilson, in turn, thinks that Tandram is a “nice fellow.” As the men stand admiring it, the little tree seems to respond in appreciation, “quivering” and “glowing” for them as the blackbird continues to sing. The mood is broken, however, when Nilson suddenly feels vulnerable and exposed. Having just thought that Tandram was a “nice fellow,” the neighbor now looks foolish to him, “as if he had seen himself” (Paragraph 19). Both men resume their walk, clutching their respective newspapers behind their backs.

Nilson slows his walk to avoid arriving at his doorstep at the same time as Tandram arrives at his. As he reaches his house, Nilson hears a cough or sigh, and he looks up to see Tandram in his window looking out at the tree. Nilson is upset by the experience, though he does not understand why. He turns into his house and opens his newspaper. The story ends as quietly as it began—framed at the beginning by an odd physical feeling that he could not explain and, at the end, by an equally odd emotional feeling that perplexes him.