Kishotenketsu: The Four-Act Story Format of Japanese Literature

Throughout history, Japanese authors have masterfully crafted full stories in only a number of pages. Prolific authors like Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Junichiro Tanizaki, and Yasunari Kawabata all flourished in writing shorter format stories rather than works spanning the typical 300 pages. Even when turning to novels like I am a Cat by Natsume Soseki–the English translation being close to 500 pages–one quickly realizes that this novel was published incrementally, each chapter containing a different tangentially-related story. 

Image from Wikipedia.

I recognized this trend in Modern Japanese literature for authors to write a multitude of short stories or novellas. In fact, the art of brevity was comforting in a sense; after reading a long English classic, I could take a break and pick up a Japanese short story collection for a few days, allowing me to immerse myself in a world quickly and effectively. Of course, there were times in which these stories fell apart due to their length, especially in modern cases. However, I found that to avoid putting my time into modern stories that would fall flat, I could easily choose a book that fell into the trend of my personal classification of the “four story format.” 

In Mr Brack’s sophomore year English class, the international section studied the three-act story structure while reading Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. However, in Japan, there is a different take on this structure known as the Kishotenketsu: the four-act structure. This structure is seemingly everywhere, from literature and films to anime and manga. 

Originating from Chinese four line poetry, this structure follows an introduction (ki), development (sho), twist (ten), and ketsu (end). Westerners might assume that this is the same thing as our typical three-act structure, but they are vastly different. In simple terms, the main difference is in the ‘ten’. Whereas the three-act structure utilizes a conflict as its narrative center, the Kishotenketsu utilizes a twist instead. In this way, a story does not require rising and falling action for the story to land; instead, a story can be told in as few as four lines!

Photo from The Art of Narrative.

So what does this have to do with short stories? Am I trying to convince you that each story follows this structure? While that may be true for most cases, what I really want to focus on is the number four. 

Now, why is the number four so particular in Japanese culture? Well, the number four in Japanese can be pronounced as “shi” or “yon.” The former of the two pronunciations actually resulted in a common superstition in Japan. The kanji for the number four tends to be pronounced as “shi” which is the exact way to pronounce the character meaning “death.” The same can be said for other Asian languages since they all share a common ancestor, Chinese. As a result, many countries in Asia view the number four as a bad omen for death. 

Now, is there necessarily a correlation between the Kishotenketsu, the Japanese superstition surrounding the number four, and collections of stories like The Tatami Galaxy and Before the Coffee Gets Cold? No, of course not. That sort of claim would take way more research than I have time for. However, I personally believe I could make a case for why they coincide. 

Firstly, let’s look at the harmony in the four-act structure. The aforementioned Before the Coffee gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi is about a cafe giving its customers a chance to travel back in time. However, the trip back in time only lasts until the coffee gets cold, hence the name. Each novel of this series centers around four different people going back in time and resolving their issues. In fact, the progression of each short story occurs with the use of Kishotenketsu. When the customers go to the past to speak with their loved ones, nothing can change about the present, thereby making it so that no conflict is really resolved, diverting from the three-act structure. Instead, they go back in time and contact someone they used to know: a daughter, lover, sister, or parent. The twist of the novel usually revolves around conversations; a piece of unknown information is given to the character which makes them more content with the present, allowing them to down the coffee and return to reality. The dead still stay dead, but comfort is given through their travels from the cafe. 

My theory on why this sort of format is enjoyable falls upon the number four. Although the reader may not consciously notice the Kishotenketsu weaved through the narrative, its presence renders an impression different from those of the three-act structure. The author creates a harmony through the format of four stories of four acts. 

However, this significance must be evermore present for the Japanese audience. In Western cultures, there is no significance attributed to the number four, thereby making this harmony of fours less present for foreign audiences. However, with the stigma against the number four, Japanese authors take risks in grouping their short stories in collections of four. 

Although it is difficult to comprehend the beauty of this writing for a Western audience, we can still appreciate the harmony of the structure and the cultural significance through writing in this way.