Atsushi Nakajima (Tokyo, 1909-1942) studied higher studies at the University of Tokyo. Upon finishing secondary education, he entered the Tokyo Imperial University College of Letters. In 1932 he married Taka Hashimoto. He travels to Manchuria, through northern China. In 1934 he dropped out of graduate school and suffered a severe asthma attack. On a trip to China he writes a draft of his poetry, two essays and begins two of his short stories "The diary of a chameleon" and "The document of a sick wolf." In 1941 he considered dedicating himself to literature. He leaves his job at the Yokohama Women's Institute and gets a position in the research project of a Japanese textbook for the colonies at the South Pacific Agency. She suffers from repeated asthma attacks and submits a return petition for her illness. She finishes several stories, including "Possession," "The Mummy," "The Moon Over the Mountain," and "The Letter Catastrophe," and begins another story about Ancient China.
In 1942 she traveled all over Palau with the painter Hisakatsu Hijikata. She gets temporary permission to return to Tokyo and returns to her father's house where his wife and children await her, but his illness worsens due to the change in environment. She publishes "The Moon Over the Mountain" and "The Letter Catastrophe" in Bungakukai magazine. She finishes her novel on Ancient China and publishes the first compilation of her novels. She writes other stories about the South Pacific such as "Happiness." Although her illness worsens, she continues to write stories set in Ancient China, such as "The Teacher." She publishes the second compilation of her stories. She passes away at the age of 33.
Partial reproduction of an article that appeared in the newspaper Le Monde in 2012 on the occasion of the publication of a book of his in France:
«This opportunity cannot be missed to add a name to the long list of victims of the astronomical metaphor: Atsushi Nakajima (1909-1942) is a meteor. This atypical figure in Japanese interwar literature has been growing for two years by sight ... and by telescope sight. Rather, a priori, a mysterious shooting star. Perhaps a curiosity, one more celestial phenomenon, but one that deserves consideration ».
«The author, although aware of his time, his experiences and the war, expresses a need to write that obeys not so much a demand for meaning as a confusion of the senses. A timeless imbalance, a nausea, a vertigo. His work is built by dispersing, dissolving, trying to embrace an invisible heart with ever-increasing circles. That existential vertigo, that very personal syncretism, that East and West of his always hit the mark. A real writer.
