On The Lake Shore

水のない晴れた海へ

たたどり着いたwhite mermaid

「水のない晴れた海へ」（Garnet Crow）

Towards the sunny sea with no water

Arriving there is a white mermaid

"Mizu no nai hareta umi he" (Garnet Crow)

Time for another Lupin!

Raoul d’Avenac is one night visited by a mysterious woman, Catherine, who pleads for help. Apparently, something sinister is going on in her home, and only Raoul can save her. At the same time, Raoul gets a call by brigadier Théodore Béchoux, who also wants Raoul's help with the investigation of a mysterious murder. It appears that mysterious visitor and Béchoux are both involved in the same case, so Raoul decides to help Catherine. As for why both Catherine and Béchoux want this gentleman's help: for most people is just a well-known gentleman often seen at parties. But a select few know that Raoul is in fact the private detective Jim Barnett, who in turn is actually the famous thief Arsène Lupin. Raoul/Lupin brings the woman to her home, where her sister Betrande is. The Barre-y-va mansion was given its name because it stands on a hill near the river Aurelle: the tide makes the Aurelle overflow, and the water reaches just until the hill, hence the name "the tide goes there". Here Raoul learns a great many deal: apparently an impossible murder has been committed on Catherine's brother-in-law during her absence, with Béchoux himself being a witness to how the poor man was gunned down by an invisible assailant who disappeared from the little island the two men were on. With a mysterious figure also making attempts at Catherine's life, Lupin has quite a lot to do in Maurice Leblanc's La Barre-y-va (1930).

And yes, I read the Japanese translation of the book. To be precise: the Minami Youichirou translation. As I've explained in this post, the Minami translations are aimed at children, so they are usually rewritten to be more concise, simpler in structure and easier to read. The Japanese title of this book is Lupin to Kaijin (Lupin and the Fiend), and according to what I could find, it appears that this particular translation placed more emphasis on Lupin's battle with the unknown fiend, and removed a romantic subplot surrounding Lupin.

I enjoyed Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine a lot as a novel in the famous Lupin series, as an entry that did something different. La Barre-y-va in contrast feels a lot more familiar. Lupin helping a damsel in distress, a mysterious adversary for Lupin to fight with, the legacy of Catherine and Bertrande's grandfather hidden away somewhere which needs some code cracking: none of these elements are particularly original to the series, and because of that, the whole reading experience feels like déjà vu. Even the (not really) shocking ending is very similar to a previous Lupin novel. La Barre-y-va feels stale, predictable and not original. It's one of the last Lupin novels published during Leblanc's lifetime, and while I praised Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine for still being original despite being a very late Lupin novel, La Barre-y-va is precisely the opposite.

The book starts with an interesting impossible murder situation: Catherine's brother-in-law is shot down by an unseen assailant from a pigeon house on a little island, only accessible by a little rickety bridge. Béchoux and other witnesses had the whole island in sight as Béchox made his way to the victim and searched the pigeon house and island, but he came out empty-handed. The solution to the murder however is laughable and very unlikely it wouldn't have been found out immediately. Leblanc has written much better, and more satisfying impossible situation stories than this one.

And I guess I could write a bit more about Lupin's encounters with the mysterious figure, or the final solution to all the mysteries that happened around the Barre-y-va mansion, but in the end, it all comes down to this: La Barre-y-va is not one of Leblanc's best efforts, and he has written other books that employ the same elements, but better. So why bother with this one?

I've only a handful of unread Lupin novels left, and I guess this is what usually happens when you're reading a long-running series: unless there's some chronology involved, you often read the best books first, so as times passes, you're bound to come across the less entertaining books. La Barre-y-va is definitely a good example of that. I'm not sure when I'll get to the last of the unread Lupins, but let's hope they are more fun than this one.

Original Japanese title(s):　モーリス・ルブラン（原）、南洋一郎（訳）　『ルパンと怪人』

Zapping Operation

"Vous avez raison. Ce qui a été sera toujours. Arsène Lupin n’est et ne peut être qu’Arsène Lupin."

"Sherlock Holmes arrive trop tard"

“You are right. Nothing can be changed. Arsene Lupin is now and always will be Arsene Lupin."

"Sherlock Holmes Arrives Too Late"

I'm pretty far in my reading of Leblanc's Lupin series, I've noticed. Just a handful and I'm done!

Maurice Leblanc's Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine ("Victor, of the Vice Squad", 1934) is one of the last Arsène Lupin novels, only followed by La Cagliostro se venge (1935) and two novels published posthumously (one of them 2012's Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin). The titular Inspector Victor Hautin, of the Vice Squad, is a capable police inspector who one day is set on the trail of a fortune worth of stolen bonds. The original thief of the bonds was himself robbed of his loot however, and Victor keeps chasing after the bonds, but they keep getting stolen by even more thieves, until some person even commits murder to get their hands on them. Victor's main suspect is a mysterious blonde woman he had seen several times over the course of his chase. Meanwhile, the police force is also chasing after Arsène Lupin, who had recently been spotted in Strasbourg and who might also have set his eyes on the bonds.

As you can guess from the cover, I read a Japanese translation. Because Japanese is easier than French. Also note that I read the Minami Youichirou translation. For details, I refer to this post, but basically, his Lupin translations were aimed at children, so the novels have been rewritten to be simpler in structure and wording, and Lupin often acts more like a hero. This particular translation is said to be pretty close to the original novel in terms of structure. More faithful translations of the series were also available in Japan, but they are out of print, lacking the staying power of the Minami translations/rewrites. The Japanese title of this book is Lupin no Daibouken ("Lupin's Great Adventure") by the way.

Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine is, simply said, a fairly decent Lupin novel. Is it a big adventure-filled epic like 813 or Les Dents du tigre? Is it as a  mystery story as captivating as the short stories? No. It is however a well-paced story filled with surprises (even if a bit chaotic at times), with a charismatic protagonist (Victor) as he hunts for the bonds and the murderer who killed for those bonds and with the shadow of Lupin lurking in the background. The one thing I can say without any doubt is that I was never bored with the book, as it keeps changing the momentum. The first section, where you first learn about the bonds' theft, up until the murder for example, is fantastic. Lots of events happening, though always logically linked after another. In the latter half, the story focuses more on Victor's attempt at finding the blonde woman and capturing the illusive thief.

As a mystery novel, Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine is pretty good. While most of the story is about a chase, and doesn't invite for much thinking on the reader's part, there's actually a pretty neat trick that pertains to the identity of the murderer and there's another good set-up for the conclusion of the novel (even if it's kinda a rehash of a device Lebanc has used before). I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised, as other late Lupin novels like La Cagliostro se venge and Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin were less about the mystery and more about the adventure.

I didn't compare the Minami translation with the original text, but this was a very readable experience, that really had me stuck to the pages right from the beginning. A large part of that definitely comes from Minami's prose, though I really can't say where Minami's influence ends and where it's all Leblanc's writing. This might be the kids' version of the story, but that does not mean it's not fun to read.

With a fair amount of the Lupin novels actually starring the phantom thief Arsène Lupin himself, it's pretty fun to see a whole novel devoted to a character who spends most the time hunting after such an illustrious figure. Sure, there have been some novels where Lupin only appears to help the protagonist of tha particular story, like L’Île aux trente cercueils, and there have been the occassional story like L'Aiguille creuse, where we follow a detective character looking for Lupin, but especially the latter format is pretty rare among the 20+ novels. Victor is a smart, pro-active cop who knows his job and it's fun seeing this side of the hunt once in a while in a Lupin novel.

So if you like Arsène Lupin and are in search for a story that focuses less on adventure, but more on a mystery plot, then Victor, de la Brigade Mondaine is a good pick. As I said, I don't know if all the points I raised apply to the original French version, but at least the Minami translation/adaptation of the book was enjoyable.

Original Japanese title(s):　モーリス・ルブラン（原）、南洋一郎（訳）　『ルパンの大冒険』

Les Milliards d'Arsène Lupin

Arsène Lupin in our midst! the irresponsible burglar whose exploits had been narrated in all the newspapers during the past few months! the mysterious individual with whom Ganimard, our shrewdest detective, had been engaged in an implacable conflict amidst interesting and picturesque surroundings. Arsène Lupin, the eccentric gentleman who operates only in the chateaux and salons, and who, one night, entered the residence of Baron Schormann, but emerged empty-handed, leaving, however, his card on which he had scribbled these words: "Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar, will return when the furniture is genuine."

"The Arrest of  Arsène Lupin"

Today, something completely different! Not a review, but a little look into the Japanese history of a very French character.

While the presence of Arsène Lupin, the gentleman-thief created by Maurice Leblanc in 1905, is not very remarkable in modern Western popular culture, Lupin still lives on in Japan in a curious way. Is he as well known as someone as Sherlock Holmes? That, I very, very much doubt, but the fact you can still stroll into a bookstore and find translated versions of tales of the gentleman-thief should say something. The question that might pop up in your head is: why? Forgotten is too strong a word, but Lupin is definitely not that big a household name anymore in the West, and while getting his books through the Powers of the Internet isn't that difficult, I doubt many stores in the neighborhood stock his adventures. Is there a secret behind his staying power in Japan?

Some might say that Japanese culture, or more precisely, Japanese mystery fandom, tends to focus more on the Western classics more than we do here. I think that would be a too easy, and a too careless attempt at an explanation, and one that seems to ignore the fact that Leblanc actually did write incredibly entertaining stories. Perhaps the question should be why he isn't still that famous here, rather than the other way around.

The notion of the gentleman-thief did not start with Arsène Lupin, of course. A direct literary forefather is E.W. Hornung's Raffles series, which started in 1898, and we have early examples in folklore like Robin Hood. In Japan too, there had been a tradition of folklore about thieves that were seen as heroes by the masses. There is for example Ishikawa Goemon (1558-1584), an outlaw who stole to give to the poor. His exploits became the subject of many kinds of folklore, including multiple kabuki plays. Another example would be Nezumi Kozou ("The Rat Kid"). Nezumi Kozou was the nickname of Nakamura Jiroukichi (1797-1831), a thief who managed to burgle over 100 samurai estates. His tale turned into folklore, and has been the subject of folk songs and kabuki plays (including one by Kawatake Mokuami, seen by some as one of the greatest kabuki dramatists). These characters are considered gizoku, or "thieves with honor" and are thus early examples of thieves that are considered the heroes of a tale in fiction (even if based on real persons and events).

So it isn't strange that a concept like the gentleman-thief would be accepted in Japan. Interestingly, Raffles wasn't translated to Japanese until the Taishou period (1912-1926), while Lupin arrived in Japan much earlier. Already in 1909, the magazine Sunday featured Pari Tantei - Dorobou no Dorobou ("Paris Detective - Thief of Thieves"), based on the 1906 short story La Perle noire. Translations of various stories by various translators followed, many of them being rewrites of the original plot with new titles. The Lupin-epic 813 was for example published in 1912 with the title Kojou no Himitsu ("The Secret of the Old Castle"), written/translated by Mitsuki Shunei. So even in Lupin's early days, he was already making his name in Japan.
(See: Hasebe Fumichika (2007). Oubei Suiri Shousetsu Honyakushi. Futaba Bunko. p159-161)

The character of  Arsène Lupin was also noticed by Edogawa Rampo, who is commonly seen as the father of the modern Japanese mystery story. It's easy to see the influence of the thief in Rampo's work. Not only did he have his own detective character, Akechi Kogorou, take on the famous French thief in his 1930-1931 novel Ougon Kamen ("The Golden Mask"): his famous creation Kaijin Nijuu Mensou (the Fiend with Twenty Faces) was also partly inspired by the thief. The Fiend would become the main antagonist in the highly succesful children's mystery series Shounen Tantei Dan (The Boy Detectives Club, started in 1936), so the notion of the flamboyant thief with a fantastic skill for disguises had been implanted in many. And more importantly perhaps, this notion was implanted in children, meaning a new generation would grow up with knowledge of this notion. The Shounen Tantei Dan series is still source of many pop-culture references nowadays,

The biggest influence on Lupin's staying power however is perhaps Minami Youichirou (1893-1980), a novelist and translator who'd be responsible for "The Complete Gentleman-Thief Lupin" series, which was a complete translated release of the complete Arsène Lupin series by publisher Poplar. Minami had been a teacher on an elementary school, but having found succes with writing adventure novels for children, he became a professional novelist. His first translation of the Lupin series was published in 1958, and it would take him over 20 years, until the year he died, to complete the project (though this project also included some non-Leblanc Lupin novels). What should be noted was that Minami did not make faithful translations. The Minami translation is aimed at children, so a lot of the stories were simplified, and plotpoints like adultery/divorce and such were skipped over. Some books were shortened to provide for a more streamlined experience. The result is a slightly more heroic, and perhaps 'cleaner' version of Lupin, but, thanks to Minami's own experience as a novelist of children's adventure novels, this version was also very readable, and as such incredibly well-loved by the readers. I too have read some of his translation, and they were quite fun as easier-to-read, and more focused stories.

Other publishers have also released faithful translations of the Lupin novels, but if you look on Amazon now, you'll notice that they're all out of print. Only the Minami Youichirou translations remain in print, even now, so many years after the series first started and even after 'better' translations were released. It shows how beloved his version of the stories are. And because his books are aimed at children, new generations keep growing up with his versions. Interestingly enough, even generations that have now grown up don't seem to have a particular need for the faithful translations! Also note that the Minami translations are instantly recognizable by their awesome retro covers!

Some people might also want to mention the famous franchise Lupin The Third as a reason as to why Arsène Lupin's still available in Japan. Lupin The Third, first started in 1967, is one of the biggest manga/anime franchises in the history, with multiple comic book series, TV series, even more TV specials and films and everything. Heck, an (EXCELLENT) TV series of it has ended just now in Japan, in 2016!  And yes, Lupin The Third is about Lupin III, grandson of Arsène, who's also a genius thief, so that is a link, but I think a lot of people overestimate this link. Lupin The Third borrows very little from his grandfather besides some names and the (very) occassional reference. So I wouldn't equate Lupin the Third's success with Arsène Lupin's reputation in Japan per se, even if it definitely helps to have the same name! Do note that Lupin The Third is way, way, waaaaay better known that his grandfather. There is a different recent manga based on Arsène Lupin by the way, titled Aventurier (2011-now), based on the books.

Anyway, I don't pretend to know exactly why Arsène Lupin still prevails in Japan. Then again: is there anybody who can accurately read the movements of that thief? If Ganimard can't, how can I? What I do know is that I absolutely love the character and I'm happy to see that he's still alive in Japan, in one form or another. Because what would Lupin be without a disguise?

Everlasting Luv

これが最後のlove songのはじまりに・・・

なるよう祈る

『Last love song』（Garnet Crow）

The start of our last love song...

I pray this will be it.

"Last Love Song" (Garnet Crow) 

While it would take a bit of time, I could theoretically have read the original French version of today's book, but why bother with that if I can read a cheaper Japanese version much easier?

The suicide of her father leaves Cora, Princess of Lerne, with much sadness, which is only partly relieved by her father's parting words, which were full of loving advice for the future and one particular observation. Cora's father said he knew that one of the four men who have of late devoted themselves to the beautiful Cora, was the infamous gentleman-thief Arsène Lupin and if she would ever be in danger, she should turn to him for help. And as her father had predicted, the help of Lupin is indeed needed. A series of incidents surrouding her start with a daring attempt to steal her massive wedding dowry from an airplane from England to France: two of the money bags fall inside the "Zône", a less-fortunate and rather rough neighbourhood just outside Paris. But before a trio of ne'er-do-wells can get away with the loot, they are apprehended by a mysterious man affectionally called Captain Cockadoodle by the local children. But the theft of Cora's dowry is just the beginning of the adventure, and Captain Cockadoodle (or as he quickly confesses, a reformed Arsène Lupin). assisted by Joséphin and Marie-Thérèse, two of the brightest of the "Zône" children, try to figure out who and why someone is targeting Cora in Maurice Leblanc's Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin ("The Last Love of Arsène Lupin", 2012).

2012? Yes,  Maurice Leblanc, creator of Arsène Lupin, passed away in 1941, but Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin is his only novel originally published in the 21st century. This last adventure of the famous gentleman-thief was originally written in 1936, but was never published. The manuscript remained with Leblanc's family and while the existence of the story was already known from the late 80s on, Leblanc's son did not wish to publish the book. The book was later once again discovered by Leblanc's granddaughter and the book was first published in 2012 in France as the last Lupin novel, with the final publication being identical to Leblanc's original story (no extra editing).

And because Arsène Lupin is quite popular in Japan, three different translations of the book were published there in the same year as the original French release! Hayakawa published a 'normal' translation, while Popular continued their series of rewritten versions of the Lupin novels for a juvenile public (Done in the style of translator Minami Youichirou, who originally supervised this particular series: I have reviewed two of his Lupin adaptations here and here). I however chose Tokyo Sogen's version of the book, which was released last of the three. What is interesting about this version is that the head editor made special efforts to make the book more readable: the French version (and the Hayakawa translation) are precisely like how Maurice Leblanc wrote the story, but critics have commented that the story is a bit rough around the edges. The Tokyo Sogen version fills the gaps with a slightly extended translation (adding information not explictly mentioned in the original version), making the book a lot more readable. The head editor agreed that for posteriority, preserving the story as Maurice Leblanc wrote it was a good choice for the French version, as well as the Hayakawa translation, but as Tokyo Sogen was late with their version anyway, they decided to concentrate on making it a translation that was a lot more easier to simply enjoy.

While I am more a fan of the Lupin short stories, I still enjoy the grand adventures of Lupin's novels quite a lot (my favorite of the novels are 813 and Les Dents du Tigre by the way). I doubt many will consider Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin Leblanc's masterpiece, but nonetheless, it was an entertaining ride. The book kinda sets you on a false scent in the first part, as you'd think the plot would be about the mystery of who of Cora's four devoted male friends is in fact Arsène Lupin, but his identity is revealed rather early. What follows is an adventure where Lupin outwits his unseen opponents through clever ruses like we've so often seen, and enjoyed before. The plot also involves Lupin's ancestor (who fought under Napelon) and eventually involves parties that can be considered 'big' even in terms of Lupin's other adventures, so I think that any fans of the swashbuckling genre can easily enjoy this novel.

I also liked how we were presented a slightly older Lupin this time though. While not really old (Lupin is always young!), we do see a Lupin who has settled down a bit, and who is generally a lot less reckless or arrogant compared to his appearance in his earliest adventures. He is still recognizable as Lupin, but he manages to pour his limitless energy into bigger things than just theft in Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin and that works quite well actually: we have already seen hints of this community-focused Lupin in other novels (Les Dents du Tigre for example) and it's simply fun watching the gentleman-thief teach children of the "Zône" how to swim or how to stand up against injustice. And as the title suggests, this adventure signals another major point in his life as he settles down more permanently.

As for the Tokyo Sogen translation, I think it was a job well done. I haven't read the original version, so I don't kow how much was improved over the original, but at least this version never felt incomplete, and with figures and extra notes included, I thought that the strategy of publishing their book later, but with a bit more effort in smoothing out the experience, was well thought-off.

Overall, Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin was an amusing adventure starring a slightly older Lupin. It is never as memorable or exciting as Lupin on his best, that I have to admit, but if you ask me straight if I enjoyed the book, then I have to answer with yes, I really did enjoy the book. If you've already gone through the other books, then you really shouldn't miss out on Le Dernier Amour d'Arsène Lupin.

Original title(s): Maurice Leblanc 『リュパン、最後の恋』

A Family Affair

"She's bloody dying and all you bring us is lupins. All we've eaten mate for the last four bleeding weeks is lupin soup, roast lupin, steamed lupin, braised lupin in lupin sauce, lupin in the basket with sauted lupins, lupin meringue pie, lupin sorbet. We sit on lupins, we sleep in lupins, we feed the cat on lupins, we burn lupins, we even wear the bloody things!"

"Dennis Moore" (Monty Pyton)

Today: two Lupins for the price of one!

A reported robbery at the home of Gaston Gournev-Martin brings police detective Guerchard on the scene. He discovers the Duke of Chamerace in the neighbourhood and suspects that this so-called Duke is in fact the infamous thief Arsène Lupin. Despite Gournev-Martin's own testimony that the Duke of Chamerace is indeed who he claims he is, Guerchard still suspects that Arsène Lupin is behind the Duke's facade. When Arsène Lupin announces he is going to visit a party of the Duke, Guerchard (who is also told to solve the Lupin case within a week) decides to pay an unannounced visit, in the hopes of catching the phantom thief and proving that the Duke is nothing more than a thief in the 1932 film Arsène Lupin.

Arsène Lupin is based on the same-titled four-part play by Maurice Leblanc (literary father of Arsène Lupin) and Francis de Croisset. The play was also novelized by Leblanc himself with the same title. It is one of the Lupin stories I haven't read yet, so I started with the film without knowing what to expect. What is usually the case with Lupin: anything can happen.

And overall, I thought Arsène Lupin was quite amusing. The stars of the film are definitely the Barrymore brothers, who stand opposite each other as the Duke (John) and Guerchard (Lionel). There are the usual Lupin shenigans of one knowing the other is Arsène Lupin, yet not able to prove that and these confrontations come alive by the acting of the brothers. This tension is definitely the best part of the film. The story itself is a bit smaller than other Lupin stories, but that's because the original story is based on a play, I think. As a result, there are a lot of one-on-one scenes, and the story never reaches a really exciting climax.

Sure, there's a rather big heist planned at the end of the film, but it almost seems like an afterthought, as the tone is quite different from the rest of the story, and it never feels as big or brilliant a heist as we're used to in other Lupin stories. Like I said, I haven't read the original book/play, so I don't know what exactly is original to the film and what isn't, but I suspect the last part is a film original. I mean, I know the real Arsène Lupin isn't always a nice guy, but he would never threaten to sell a girl off into white slavery.

Anyway, an amusing watch with the gentleman-thief. And sometimes it's good to know the family trade stays alive after several generations. In Japan, Monkey Punch's Lupin III series has been a staple and important part of Japanese popculture since 1967. Lupin III is the grandson of Arsène Lupin, but while still a thief capable of the most amazing feats, he's usually less of a gentleman. Actually, it depends on who is writing him. Lupin III is everything from a James Bond to Robin Hood, depending on the production. Miyazaki Hayao (of Studio Ghibli)'s early film directing career includes The Castle of Cagliostro for example, an adventure film starring a heroic Lupin III. A more recent adventure of Lupin III is the crossover film Lupin III VS Detective Conan (2013), which pitted the legendary thief and his gang against the pint-sized detective.

Lupin III (2014) is a recent live-action film adaptation of the successful franchise. The Works is a international gang of thieves with several notable young up-and-coming members, including Lupin III (grandson of the legendary Arsène Lupin), Mine Fujiko (a femme fatale) and Jigen Daisuke (crackshot and bodyguard). One day, the Works is betrayed by one of its members who steals the Crimson Heart of Cleopatra, leaving Lupin and Jigen with no home and the desire to steal back what was taken from them. Lupin and Jigen soon make a name as internationally wanted thieves, who are occasionally helped and occasionally betrayed by Fujiko. They finally discover the whereabouts of the Crimson Heart of Cleopatra, which is being kept in a high-security building/safe called Ark of Navarone. Enlisting the help of several fellow thieves, including the swordsman Ishikawa Goemon, Lupin III and his gang set out to retrieve their loot, while being chased by Interpol detective Zenigata.

The franchise of Lupin III has been going on for a long time with a variety of productions, so I wasn't too surprised the live-action film was once again about the first time the Lupin gang (Lupin III, Jigen, Goemon and Fujiko) come together to work as a team. Over the history, the Lupin gang has had many first encounters, and all different, so I wasn't at all bothered at the Uncle-Ben-Must-Die-Again approach to the franchise.

But that doesn't mean that Lupin III is a good film. On paper, the story isn't that different from most Lupin III (animated) specials of the last couple of years: an action-packed film with a heist as its background setting (it's not really a heist film though, just an action flick). On screen, the story just didn't really work. And that's not because I don't like live-action adaptations of manga/anime source material. In fact, I can quite appreciate them (the recent Rurouni Kenshin trilogy was quite impressive for example). But the production team must get the tone right: a tone that fits with the franchise, but also with the live-action format. Lupin III fails to succeed here.

The action scenes are chaotic and shoddily taken: you are given a split second shot of something, only for it to be replaced by another shot at another angle / level of zoom of the same action, leaving the viewer in confusion of what the hell is going on. The more fantastic action scenes don't always work: a car chase scene on the highway hits the right tone most of the time, but then the presence of Goemon (a swordsman who can cut everything) kinda ruins the scene (in fact, I think that Goemon doesn't work at all in this film). Goemon cutting everything in a cartoon or comic, okay, but it just doesn't really translate well into the real world. The Rurouni Kenshin films struck a great balance between reality and slightly fantastic battles (jumping several meters up in the sky etc.) consistently throughout the three films, but the fairly realistic tone of Lupin III clashes with the cartoony comedy it occassionally also tries to utilize. A group of three enemy enforcers has the same problem: they are obviously inspired by cartoon designs (their clothing is ridiculous), whereas the rest of the cast is dressed in a fairly sensible manner (and still true to their original designs).

But Lupin III is also not a very surprising film. It's actually quite predictable, and again, that doesn't automatically mean it's bad (because I am quite OK with formulaistic approaches), but there was very little I truly enjoyed in this film running more than two hours. One of the few scenes I really loved is at the beginning, when Lupin and Jigen make their way out of a gang hideout with their loot on their backs: the scene is obviously inspired by the opening of The Castle of Cagliostro and gave me a big smile and the hope this could be something good, but alas.

Also, the film was shot with an international cast, and the version I saw had everyone dubbed in Japanese (including some of the Japanese actors!), which was kinda distracting. Oguri Shun did an excellent Lupin III though (who also did Kudou Shinichi in some of the Detective Conan live action TV specials. Meaning he would be both Lupin III and Shinichi if they would ever do a live-action Lupin III VS Detective Conan).

Lupin III is a rather mediocre adaptation of the famous franchise. It occassionally hits the right tones, but doesn't more often than it does. And I heard a sequel was already under production. Huh. I hope the next film manages to come up with an atmosphere that fits Lupin III and its own live-action framework.

Original Japanese title(s): モンキー・パンチ（原）　『ルパン三世』

「愛がほしいだけさ」

"'Two young adventurers for hire. Willing to do anything, go anywhere. Pay must be good. No unreasonable offer refused.' How would that strike you if you read it?"

"The Secret Adversary"

To be expected of the Kyoto University Mystery Club: people who arrive early for the end-of-semester party all head straight for the Book Off to browse/read until meeting time, discussions at the izakaya include topics like secret hallways and how the stairs are probably only able to hold a certain amount of weight so we can create an elimination-style detective story and the karaoke list being dominated by theme songs of Conan and Kindaichi Shounen.

L'Agence Barnett et Cie is a small private detective agency in Paris run by Jim Barnett. What makes this agency unique? It's free. No fees are charged for services rendered. At all. And that's not because Barnett is a bad detective: to the contrary, he is a very gifted private detective who seems almost able to perform miracles for his clients. His gift for detection is even recognized by inspector Béchoux, disciple of Ganimard, the legendary police detective of the Paris police force. Oh, and yes, Jim Barnett is nothing more than an alias of the famous thief Arsene Lupin. And you can bet that even though he doesn't charge anybody for his services, Lupin is sure to arrange things so he profits in one way or another...

L'Agence Barnett et Cie is a short story collection and readers familiar with Arsene Lupin will know what to expect: whereas the novel-length stories of Lupin tend to be swashbuckling adventures, the short stories tend to very entertaining orthodox detective stories. This collection is no exception and I had great fun reading the stories. In fact, I wasn't even planning to read any Japanese translated novels this week, but I had been wanting to read this collection for years and when I discovered this book among the shelves of the Mystery Club, I just had to read it immediately.

In Les gouttes qui tombent ("The Falling Drops"), Barnett is asked to help baroness Asserman in the matters of an inheritance. Her husband, the baron, had been ill and confined to his bed for a long time and with time, love between the two had disappeared. Wanting to punish the baroness for her lack of loyalty to him, the baron then made a curious will. His wife was to inherit an insanely expensive necklace when he were to die, while his other relatives were to inherit the rest of his possessions (the mansion, the rest of his fortune). The catch? The baroness discovers, after her husband's death, that the necklace is replaced for a fake and that she thus inherits nothing at all. But who could have made the switch of her necklace (which she had always hidden in her safe)?  The solution is a very obvious one because of the length of the story though: I love short stories, but if written badly, the right solution might be too easy to see because there are just too few story elements. Which doesn't mean the solution was disappointing though, as this was a truly cruel and horrifying trick to steal and get rid of the necklace! More easy on the heart is seeing how Barnett/Lupin arranges things so he benefits too!

Inspector Béchoux hopes Barnett will be able to solve a curious murder in La lettre d'amour du roi George ("The Love Letters of King George"). The murder on an old man seems to be commited by his three nephews, as they are the only ones to profit of his death and they were all on the scene of the crime, but they swear that they saw their uncle's friend at the house that day. However, the villagers all swear that they saw this friend at his own house, sitting in the living room smoking like he always does at the time of the murder. How could he have been in two places at the same time? The solution is one of those that seem a bit unrealistic, which can be attacked with a lot of 'but what if...''s, but it might actually work. In those times, in little villages.

La partie de baccara ("A Game of Baccara") is very easy to see through. I mean, there is not even something to see through. The murder of a man after a game of baccara really doesn't need the likes of Lupin to solve. The only fun part of the story? Barnett once again making a profit in a slightly illegal way.

L'homme aux dents d'or ("The Man With the Golden Teeth") is the one stole the religious treasures, the monk said to inspector Béchoux. So he found a suspicous man with golden teeth in the neighborhood. So everything is over? No. For the monk swears that the golden teeth were on the left side of his mouth, while the man arrested has them on the right side. Once again not that complex, while it does features a double-layered solution.

An investor is robbed of a bag full of stock certifcates in Les douze africaines de Béchoux ("The Twelve African Stock Certificates of Béchoux"). And yes, like the title suggest, the loot includes an investment of Béchoux himself (so now it's personal!). Thanks to the quick recovery of the robbery, the investor manages to arrange that nobody is able to leave the building until the arrival of the police. But even an extensive search of the police across all floors doesn't produce the documents, nor the thief. Where did they disappear to? Another impossible diappearance/extensive search story, but with a slightly disappointing solution because this is one of those times where I feel that that place was a place that should have been searched. On the other hand, Leblanc does make some truly hilarious (and probably true) observations about the habits of a particular professional occupation.

Le hasard fait des miracles ("Chance creates miracles") feels a bit like Au sommet de la tour from the Les Huit Coups de l'horloge Lupin collection, both about families of nobility with a muddy past and a mysterious death. Here the death of an impoverished young baron, who seems to have fallen to his death forms to be a problem. Was it just an accident? Like Au sommet de la tour, Barnett uncovers a very old plot and the truth behind the current death (which unfornately also depends on a very unbelievable bit of luck), but the best part is seeing Barnett being his old Lupin-y old self and dominating the last scene.

Gants blancs... guêtres blanches... ("White gloves, white spats") opens with the revelation that Béchoux was actually married. He divorced because his wife wanted to become a star, which she did. Now she wants Béchoux to find out who robbed of her apartment, attacked her mother and to recover the loot. Still in love with his wife, Béchoux is unable to refuse this request and even though he knows that Barnett is not to be trusted (as he always ends up profiting one way or another), he also knows that only Barnett is able to solve the problem of how the robbers were able to get into the building unobserved. A variation on a classic trick, which sadly enough becomes clear immediately the moment the hints to it are introduced in the story.

After the events of the last story, Béchoux hopes to finally arrest Barnett for his unortodox way of running a detective agency that 'doesn't charge a fee' in Béchoux arrête Jim Barnett (Béchoux arrests Jim Barnett"). Barnett seems to be connected with the case of the murder on a housewife and the consequent disappearance of a photo that could make or break the case against the main suspect. Not a very interesting story actually, as the solution to where the photos are hidden is almost too absurd.

There is quite an emphasis on the great search trope / hidden objects trope in the stories collected here, which has always been a big Lupin thing, I guess. Most of the solutions aren't that surprising though and I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed here.You'd think with all these comments that I didn't like this collection, but that's not true actually. I had quite some fun with the book and that was really because these stories are two-layered. At one hand, we have the main story of seeing how Barnett solves the cases. But on the other hand, we also have to consider how Lupin is going to make a profit out of this case. And that is really the main attraction for me of L'Agence Barnett et Cie: seeing how Lupin acts as a great detective and all, while still being his sly thief-self and arranging everything that he profits one way or another.

Reading this in Japanese was interesting though. I had only read Minami Youichirou's adaptations of Lupin until now, which were highly re-written and simplified (in fact, La Demeure mystérieuse is a sort-a sequel to L'Agence Barnett et Cie also featuring Béchoux). This was an actual translation, which gave another flavor to the text. The Minami 'translations' can definitely be critized for being very disloyal to the original text (in terms of word-to-word translations), but they read more easily as actual Japanese text. I've been reading quite some Japanese translations lately (why?!!!) and I do find the difference in ways of expression across the languages very remarkable. It is instantly clear whether you are reading an actual Japanese text or a translation. Which makes sense, I guess, but I do see why one would like to read Minami's translations.

Next up: a non-translation. I hope.

Japanese title(s): 『バーネット探偵社』　「したたる水滴」　「ジョージ王の恋文」　「バカラの勝負」　「金歯の男」　「べシューの十二枚のアフリカ株券」　「白手袋・・・白いゲートル」　「べシュー、バーネットを逮捕す」

The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter

「パトカーの中で、〇〇〇は同じ言葉を何度も、何度も呟いていたらしい。何で自分は日本人じゃなかったんだ、何で彼女はアメリカ人じゃなかったんだと。まるで壊れたからくり人形のように、何度も、何度も繰り返して・・・」

『名探偵コナン』

"In the patrol car, X kept muttering the same words over and over again. Why wasn't I Japanese? Why wasn't she American? Like a broken puppet, repeating those words over and over again..."

"Detective Conan"

My reading pile of detective fiction is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet his maker. Which means that I'll have to be content for the while being with my reading pile of secondary literature. Which is pretty fun actually. As a student, I have to write papers regularly and I do like it when I am able to use detective fiction for my academic writings. Even if I have to be a bit... creative at times. Imagined communities and early Japanese detective fiction was a bit of a stretch though. Even by my standards.

Hasebe Fumichika's Oubei Suiri Shousetsu Honyakushi ("A History of Western Detective Novel Translations") is precisely what the cover says it is: a history of translations of Western detective novels in Japan. To be more precise, early Western detective novels. The book was originally published in 1992 and won the Japanese Detective Writers Assocation Price (like Shakaibu Kisha, Kao, Honjin Satsujin Jiken and Geneijou). And it is certainly an entertaining and informative read. Hasabe looks at the history of Western detective novels in Japan by focusing on a set of authors he considers influential to Japanese writers. He looks at both the original publication dates in the country of origin as well at as the various publication sources / various translations in Japan and is thus mainly set in the Taisho and early Showa period (1912~36). Which is not always easy, because not only did early Japanese translations of Western fiction often have altered titles, some early translations were also more like free adaptations of the original story.  Which is also where I have to correct myself. I once wrote that R. Austin Freeman's The Eye of Osiris wasn't translated into Japanese until the 1950s, but that's not true. A serialization of the novel had actually started in the very first issue of Shinseinen in 1920 already (the mystery magazine of that time, where Edogawa Rampo also made his debut) under the name Hakkotsu no Nazo ("The Mystery of the White Bones")

Hasabe discusses the following writers in their own chapters: Agatha Christie, S.S. Van Dine, Johnston McCulley, R. Austin Freeman, Gaston Leroux, Freeman Will Crofts, Joseph Smith Fletcher, Alfred Machard, Maurice Leblanc, Edgar Wallace, John Dickson Carr, G.K. Chesterton and several authors he groups together as French writers, German writers and early short story writers. While most names are familiar, a name like McCulley (of the Zorro novels) might seem surprising. Which is what makes this book interesting to read, as it is a Japanese reception history of Western detective novels and occasionally you see how some writers were received differently across the sea. There are sometimes even surprising revelations, like for example when Hasebe writes that Japanese critics had low expectations of American writers in that time and that Edogawa Rampo thought that Van Dine's novels were OK, considering they were written by an American! Hasebe also gives an interesting description of the role of translators, who were actually very active with the material themselves. Translators often identified the materials suitable to translate and some of these men were very good in reading the market, for example finding and translating Agatha Christie's short stories to Japanese at a very early stage of their English publication.

Hasebe's study is pretty detailed on the supply side of the story, with much information on the many translations, publications, adaptations and children's adaptations of the various stories of the authors, but is sadly enough somewhat short on the demand side of the market. There is little to no information about the market itself, with most of Hasebe's story focusing on translators and publishers. He also does not explain why he deemed the authors he chose important. I assume it's because these authors / works had a great influence on early Japanese writers, but it is odd that Hasebe does not try to show this explicitly. He sometimes quotes Edogawa Rampo (mostly from his Forty Years of Detective Fiction memoirs) on how Rampo felt about certain books, but that is pretty much it. It would have made this book so much more interesting if Hasabe had made the connection between Western authors / novels and the Japanese authors / novels more clearly.

The book also misses a clear introduction or contextualization, which is actually quite necessary for the topic. The book is structured by the authors, but is quite unclear how Hasebe decided on this structure. Why Christie as the first author? This book needs more contextualization, especially in the sense of how the period this book describes forms a continuation on the Meiji period translations / adaptations (like by Kuroiwa Ruikou). Yes, I know there are specialist books for that (I have one actually) and I know that this is not a book 'beginners' in the genre would pick up, but I can very well imagine that this would be a somewhat confusing or boring read if you can't place it in the proper context.

Oubei Suiri Shousetsu Honyakushi is certainly a well-researched book, but it lacks a bit in portraying the information Hasaebe gathered as actually being relevant. It is a bit ambiguous now and some readers might find the list of translation publications bit boring to read without proper contextualization within the book. As a standalone book, it is too vague I think and while the topic concerns Western authors, I don't think a translation of this book would work at all, without the larger context of early translation practices and the introduction of detective fiction in Japan.

Original Japanese title(s): 長谷部史親  『欧米推理小説翻訳史』

「ヤツはとんでもないものを盗んでいきました・・・ あなたの心です！」

"Do you have any proof of what you're saying?"

"None whatsoever," replied Lupin. "But proof is sometimees less convincing than logic." 

"La Cagliostro se Venge"

Oh, look, an Arsene Lupin review of something not written in Japanese! Oh, and this planned posting thing is awesome.

While not as big an adventure like 813 or Les Dents du tigre, La Comtesse de Cagliostro ("Countess Cagliostro") was one of the more engaging Arsene Lupin stories, chronicling his earliest big heist as a thief and his battles against and affairs with the mysterious Countess Cagliostro. As I couldn't find an English translation at the time, I read the whole thing in German and it's the only German book I own. I love Lupin that much. Anyway,  while Lupin had seemingly won in La Comtesse,  readers knew that a horrible plan had been set in motion by Cagliostro for her revenge. It was just a matter of time.
 

Well, time and availability. I had wanted to read La Cagliostro se Venge ("Countess Cagliostro's Revenge") for some years now, but it wasn't until last year that an English translation (bundled with an English translation of La Comtesse) was published. Even worse that release had kinda slipped under my radar too!  But now, a year late, I finally got to continue in the Lupin saga. In La Cagliostro se Venge, set many years and books after La Comtesse, master-criminal Arsene Lupin is finally confronted with Cagliostro's revenge. It starts out with a normal day for Lupin, who is doing reseach on a potential target, but little does he know that soon he, a young architect who lives in his mansion and the neighbours are soon to get involved with a murder. The murder is the starting sign of a long adventure of lovers, of people trying to blackmail Lupin (don't try it!), about old friends and enemies and the culmination of Cagliostro's revenge.

Like always, an Arsene Lupin novel is more a swashbuckling adventure by our master-criminal (compared to the more 'classic' short stories), but they seldom bore. I am kinda disappointed in the novel though; if I was an evil Countess woman with a criminal organisation to my disposal, I would have planned my revenge... more detailed? More sure? More... I don't know, hate-inspired revenge rather than a I'll-see-what-happens-revenge. The story is short too, so no awesome epic like 813. Which is still the best novel-length Arsene Lupin novel. This novel is somewhere in the OK-ish ~ not-really-worth-it range.

I only recommend reading this Lupin novel because it forms a set with the La Comtesse de Cagliostro, which does belong to required-reading list of Arsene Lupin. Some Lupin novels are best read in groups anyways, like Les Dents du tigre is best read together with 813, or how to a lesser degree Arsene Lupin vs. Herlock Sholmes and L'Aiguille creuse form a set within the Arsene Lupin timeline. But the plot-twist at the end of La Comtesse is really strongly connected with La Cagliostro se Venge, which automatically turns it into an important book within the Lupin world. Few qualities of its own, but recommended reading for the fans.

"Why not avoid the danger of a personality that is ever the same?”

"'The fox changes his skin,' quoth Ellery, 'but not his habits. or would you prefer it in Latin. My classics used to irritate you.'"
"Halfway House"

 
And with most of the backlog gone, I'll go back to one-post-a-week.

I have read Maurice LeBlanc's Arsène Lupin novels in English, German and Japanese now. And not one in the original French language. It's a bit creepy realizing, I have forgotten a language I have studied for several years at school. I do seem to have done bits and pieces of a bit too many languages, resulting in me being a jack of all trades, but master of none.

Like with La Demoiselle aux yeux vert, La Demeure mystérieuse isn't available in English as far as I know. So I had to settle with Kaiki na Ie ("The Strange House"), another re-release of the Minami Youichirou translations by Popular. The novel starts with the kidnapping of a young singer, Régine. She is taken by her two kidnappers to a mysterious mansion, where she is robbed of her diamonds, lent to her by Van Houben. A similar incident happens a bit later with a model called Arlette . The police, with the help of  the baron Jean d'Enneris (Yes. In fact Lupin) manage to identify the mansion the girls were taken to. The Valamare mansion, inhabited by the count Valamare and his sister. While evidence of their guilt is everywhere, the diamonds are nowhere to be found. The police is convinced the Valamares are guilty, as all the clues point to them, but d'Enneris seems not so sure. Convinced someone is trying to set up the Valamare's, he starts another investigation, with a certain Antoine Fagueraul, fiance of Arlette, as his main suspect. But it's all just to get his hands on the Van Houben diamonds.

At this point, I wonder why Leblanc even bothers to give Lupin a different name, as anybody knows who Lupin is, the moment he enters stage. It is difficult not to recognize his raw power and charisma. But still , LeBlanc keeps trying. One of the later chapters even "tries" to create confusion by suggesting Fagueraul might be Lupin. As if.

What's even more confusing is that the cop Bechoux knows that d'Enneris is in fact... the private detective Jim Barnett (from the short story collection L'Agence Barnett et Cie). Who in fact is Arsène Lupin.

The story is pretty fun though. The main trick is reminiscent of a famous Ellery Queen short story, which was released several years after this novel. Somewhat rare in a Lupin novel, the novel ends in a Classic Gathering In the Saloon where d'Enneris (Lupin) explains how the set-up was managed and how he deduced it from the clues. If I didn't knew Lupin was doing all of this just to get hold of Van Houben's diamonds, I'd almost believe him as an instrument of pure good (well, the exploits in The Eight Strokes of The Clock were for a kiss, which is less criminal... but still).And totally unrelated to this story, but I never did understand why people consider Le Bouchon de cristal (The Crystal Stopper) as one of the better Lupin stories.

I really dig these old-school covers though! Too bad I already have English translations of the other books Popular released and they seemed to have stopped now. I should do an awesome detective-cover post someday.

Original Japanese title(s): モーリス・ルブラン、南洋一郎 　『怪奇な家』

「まさに人類の宝って奴さ。俺のポケットには大きすぎらぁ」

"The criminal is the creative artist; the detective only the critic." 
"The Blue Cross"

It's funny how one of my favorite detectives is in fact a criminal. Arsene Lupin from Maurice LeBlanc's novels is the quintessential gentleman thief. He will politely inform you he will rob you. Heck, Lupin will even offer a chance to the victim to send all the items Lupin wants to him beforehand, just so he doesn't need to go to through all the hassle. Strangely enough, there is a strong sense of justice in him too, so he'll not let evil (greater than him) go wild. Especially when there's women involved.

While I've read all of the English translations available of the Lupin stories, there are still some not available in English and so I had been holding them off. I could, in theory, go read them in the original French, but it's not something I would look forward to. Thus, I was quite surprised when I found several Lupin novels at the local bookstore as new releases of this month. Now I know that Lupin was (is?) quite popular in Japan, but to have a re-release in this day and age? And a smile forced its way on my face, a smile I always get when reading Lupin, when I found out that I hadn't read several of these novels yet. The reading backlog is gigantic anyway, so what difference are two or three books going to make?

Midori Me no Shoujo ("The Girl with the Green Eyes"), which is the translation of La Demoiselle aux yeux vert, is a Lupin novel, so experienced Lupin readers should immediately know what kind of novel this is. While the Lupin short story collections are more classical detective stories, the Lupin novels are more adventure stories with detection in it and are of more epic scale. In this novel, Lupin is victim of a train robbery, as well as witness to a murder commited by said robbers. The murder victim turned out to be a female thief, not unlike Lupin himself, while it at first seems that the murderer is a green-eyed girl. Because attractive girls can not possibly be murderers (according to Lupin), he tries to help the green-eyed girl and uncovers a plot of several parties all surrounding the poor girl. And he solves the murder somewhere along the way. And makes a fool of the magnificent bastard secret agent Marescal.

While the story is not a Lupin epic like 813 or the Teeth of the Tiger, it's certainly a nice read. Lupin does what Lupin does best: being a magnificent bastard and hero at the same time. I also feel this book had a bigger influence on Miyazaki Hayao's magnificent Lupin III movie, The Castle of Cagliostro, compared to the similarly named Countess of Cagliostro (people who say otherwise, probably haven't read the books).

I at first had my reservations about reading Lupin in Japanese, but after realizing I had been reading them in English instead of French anyway, I though that wouldn't make that much a difference. However, the translation is somewhat dodgy at times, after a quick comparison with the original text. While it's not a re-write, it seems that the translator did change bits and pieces here and there, like expanding certain passsages or for example actually using the name of Lupin instead of his alias Baron Limezy in the text. It's an old translation too.I love the retro design though! Cool art in on the cover as well inside the book, including maps and art for every named character in the novel!

And now's hoping they're going to re-release more of the novels. I still want to read the The Revenge of Cagliostro and all the other Lupin novels not available in English!　

Original Japanese title(s): モーリス・ルブラン　南洋一郎　『青い目の少女』