Roger Zelazny’s short story “24 Views of Mt. Fuji, by Hokusai” offers some notable examples of effective use of description. The story has an interesting structure; it is broken into 24 sections, each based around one of the prints in the famous series by the Japanese artist Hokusai. Many of you are probably familiar with The Great Wave off Kanagawa. The story’s protagonist, Mari, is on something of a pilgrimage/journey, which will lead to a confrontation with a mysterious adversary, and she visits the locations shown in the prints along the way.
At each stop along the journey, we get an idea of the scenery from the corresponding Hokusai print. The story opens with a view from a field in Owari, where we are immediately presented the similarities between the print and Mari’s view of the landscape: the pink of a sunset sky, a tree in the foreground, Mt. Fuji in the distance. Not only does this set the scene, but it orients us within the framework of the journey, the progression from one print/location to the next. And we see Mt. Fuji as a focal point of the art, the physical scenery, and the story as well. Zelazny further establishes Mt. Fuji as a central figure to the story, as Mari upon examining the print Sea Coast at Tago (in the eighth section) remarks, “I never seem to look upon the same mountain twice. You change as much as I myself, yet you remain what you are.”
The same technique of comparing print to real life is used to provide contrast, as the second section opens with a description of the next print, Yoshida on the Tokaido. But soon we are told the tea house is gone, and only the view of Mt. Fuji remains. A roadside hostel, where the protagonist spent the night, replaces the tea house, and the other lodgers at the hostel replace the women in the tea house.
Furthermore, Zelazny uses the images in the prints to develop themes in the story. In the first and second sections, the protagonist contemplates death and the passage of time, as she observes of the Owari print that “the old barrel maker is dust; his cask too” and that the women and the tea house from the Yoshida print have gone with the passage of time. Because of the nature of her pilgrimage, she goes on to note that her journey (and perhaps her life) may likewise be cut short at any moment. Later, when she comes to the site of The Great Wave, she sees the wave as foreshadowing death looming down upon her.
When Mari looks at the print Mount Fuji Reflects in Lake Kawaguchi, she observes that the reflection does not match the mountain itself in the print. She speculates on the illusory nature of what is merely seen and hints at the possibility of the image in the water revealing a truer image of reality, or perhaps an alternate reality, or a sunken world beneath the water.
The prints and the visuals are also used to develop character and establish motive. In the 13th section, Mari reflects on her quest, as she examines the print and landscape before her. Observing the blackbirds in the print, she toys with the idea of “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” (a hypothetical parallel to the Hokusai print series), and drawing from the variations of perspective in the imaginary print series, she concludes of herself and her adversary, “We could never agree on values.” But the themes reflected on are complex. And moments later, Mari reveals her motive in making the pilgrimage. As she prepares for the confrontation, she notes, “It struck me that it would be good to take one thing in life and regard it from many viewpoints, as a focus for my being.” The variety of prints and the differing viewpoints paradoxically serve as agents of both division and unification. The images of Mt. Fuji in the prints are varied and different in perspective, but the focus is one object.
Worth noting is Zelazny’s use of the images to provide opportunity for action and plot advancement. The fourth section opens, like many others, with a comparison of the print to the landscape Mari observes before her. As she notes similarities and differences, however, the scene is shattered by an intrusion. A yellow plane flies in, circles around over the water, and passes by the overlook where Mari sits upon the path. There is the flash of a lens, and Mari realizes she is being observed. Having used the print and the landscape to set the scene, Mari’s pilgrimage and reflections are suddenly disrupted by this foreign entity forcing her to move on.
Structured around the images in Hokusai’s prints, Zelazny uses the art and the corresponding views of the landscapes to develop his story in a variety of ways. He creates matching scenes which lead to unified ideas, he sets up contrasts, he provides opportunities for plot advancement, he draws out the motives and values of his characters, and he develops key themes and focal points. All of these features come together in a complex interconnectedness, resulting in a deep compelling story.
As a final note, I would contrast the descriptions in these scenes to the descriptions of several fights, occurring throughout the story. The combat descriptions are more typical of fantasy and sci-fi action sequences: highly detailed, complex, stylized, and technically choreographed. These blow-by-blow descriptions weaken the narrative flow, as they play out over several long paragraphs. The action, which in real life would end after only a few seconds, might take a minute or two to read. Listing every minute motion of the combatants—hand movements, foot placements, weapon strikes—does not combine to create a fluid picture of the whole of the combat. What should be a fast paced scene becomes slow and ponderous (my theory is this manner of describing action sequences is drawn from film—an attempt to describe the complex action scenes often found in movies; what works well in film does not always translate so well to print, but that’s a discussion for another day).
These are a few examples of effective and ineffective description. I read Zelazny’s “24 Views of Mt. Fuji, by Hokusai” in the short story anthology Cthulu 2000. Though it makes mention of the Cthulu mythos on a few occasions, I would characterize it as much more cyberpunk than Lovecraftian. Either way, I would encourage you to find a copy of the story and read it for yourself. It did win a Hugo after all, and for good reason. I think you’ll find there’s a lot to learn from it.