“The Nose” is a satirical short story by Japanese writer Ryūnosuke Akutagawa that explores themes such as The Self as the Source of Suffering and The Role of Irony in the Pursuit of Enlightenment. The story is loosely based on a 13th-century Japanese tale from the anonymously written collection Uji Shūi Monogatari. It was first published in the Tokyo Imperial University student magazine Shinshichō in January 1916 and was widely reprinted. The story follows Zenchi Naigu, a Buddhist monk whose preoccupation with his unusually large nose leads him to undergo a special procedure to shorten it, only to find that the transformation brings unforeseen consequences.

Known as “the father of the Japanese short story,” Akutagawa is best known for his short stories “In a Grove” (sometimes translated as “In a Bamboo Grove”) and “Rashōmon,” both of which inspired Japanese director Akira Kurosawa’s famous 1950 film Rashōmon. The film—widely regarded as one of the best movies of all time—retells “In a Grove” while drawing upon “Rashōmon” for its title and frame scenes.

Akutagawa led a short but prolific life. He wrote more than 150 short stories and left a lasting legacy on both Japanese and world literature. He is one of the most widely translated Japanese writers, and Japan’s premier literary award—the Akutagawa Award—is named after him.

This guide refers to the e-book version of Jay Rubin’s translation of “The Nose,” which appears on pages 52-58 of the collection Rashōmon and 17 Other Stories (Penguin Classics, 2006).

The story introduces protagonist Zenchi Naigu, a respected priest in the town of Ike-no-o. Despite his name, which connotes possession of the “wisdom of Zen” and marks his high standard as a priest, or Naigu, in the imperial court, his defining feature is an enormous nose that hangs “a full six inches from above his upper lip to below his chin, like a sausage dangling down from the middle of his face” (52). The challenges presented by Zenchi’s nose are twofold. It is a physical inconvenience, making it impossible for him to eat without a disciple to hold up his nose with a narrow wooden slat. It also affects his self-esteem: Every time Zenchi becomes aware of his nose or has it brought to his attention by others, he must confront the problem of his fragile sense of self.

Zenchi attempts to avoid incurring more psychic damage by trying different poses in front of a mirror to see if he can make his nose appear shorter and by closely observing other noses in the hopes of finding one like his. However, neither one of these practices alleviates his despair. The longer he scrutinizes his reflection, the longer his nose appears to be. When he looks at others, he sees “not people but noses” (53) but fails to find any that resemble his.

He eventually extends his search for solace to literature and sacred texts. He combs through Buddhist scriptures and classic texts in search of figures with similarly long noses. The closest he gets is the Chinese emperor Liu Bei, who is described as having long ears, but since the emperor has a typical nose, the story gives Zenchi no comfort. In addition to these “passive” practices, he also tries “active” measures to shorten his nose. Some of the measures come from traditional medicine, such as drinking a “decoction of boiled snake gourd” (54) used to treat fevers and clear the respiratory tracts. Others—rubbing rat urine directly on the area—are more clearly dubious. None of these measures affect his nose.

One of Zenchi’s disciples returns from Kyoto, claiming to have learned a new nose-shortening method. In keeping with his resolve to appear unconcerned about his nose, Zenchi at first declines to undergo the procedure, even as he hopes the disciple will give him a pretext to agree to it by his insistence. The disciple appears to catch on to this, using “every argument he could think of to persuade his master to adopt the treatment” (54), which eventually gives Zenchi enough cover to agree to do what he has wanted to do all along.

The seemingly straightforward treatment—“boil” the nose and then have someone stomp on it—quickly unfolds into a more elaborate process. After procuring boiling water from the temple bathhouse, the disciple realizes that if Zenchi directly immerses his nose in the bucket, his entire face might be harmed. They bore a hole in a tray, place it on the bucket, and lower Zenchi’s nose through the hole into the boiling water; the nose does not feel the heat of the boiling water. After the disciple remarks, “I believe it has cooked long enough, Your Reverence” (54), Zenchi responds with a wry grin but takes solace in his conviction that any passersby who overhear that remark will not be able to connect it to his nose.

The next part of the procedure requires the disciple to stomp on Zenchi’s nose. Although the disciple is hurting his master, Zenchi finds that it “almost fe[els] good” (55). Finally, the disciple plucks beads of fat from the pores of Zenchi’s nose. Although he is grateful to the disciple for carrying out such a distasteful task, Zenchi resents “having his nose handled like some kind of thing” (55). Still, he remains silent, and complies with the disciple’s announcement of a second boiling. The second round of “cooking” has a visible effect on the size of Zenchi’s nose; it is significantly shorter than before, almost resembling an “ordinary” one. Zenchi cautiously examines his face in the mirror to assess the transformation and is pleased with what he does—and what he does not—see.

Zenchi experiences temporary relief after the treatment, although he remains uneasy about the possibility that his nose will begin to grow again. For the rest of the day, he touches his nose to reassure himself that it hasn’t returned to its original size. When he awakes the next morning and finds his nose unchanged, he feels immense relief. However, within three days, he makes an unexpected discovery: Several people—a samurai, the page, and a subordinate priest—laugh at him. Zenchi initially attributes this behavior to the change in his appearance and is struck by the fact that the mockery is more overt than it was in the past. These thoughts intrude on his concentration during chanting, to the point where he fondly reminisces about when his nose was longer.

As days pass, Zenchi’s mood worsens. Even the disciple who treated his nose criticizes Zenchi for punishing, rather than instructing, his students. The page who once held up his nose while he ate becomes a particular source of torment. One day, Zenchi becomes enraged when he realizes the boy is waving the slat he once used to hold up his nose at a dog. Zenchi grabs the slat and hits the boy with it. In moments of reflection, Zenchi regrets how the shortening of his nose has affected his personality.

One cold and windy autumnal night, however, things change. Unable to sleep, Zenchi experiences an itching sensation in his nose, which seems swollen and feverish. Assuming this is a side effect of the shortening procedure, he cups his nose in his hands and eventually falls asleep. When he awakens at dawn, he sees that the leaves have been blown from the trees and that frost covers the roof of the pagoda. He takes a deep breath and realizes that his nose has grown back to its original size. “Now no one will laugh at me anymore,” the priest whispers to himself as he lets “his long nose sway in the dawn’s autumn wind” (58).