Seven Dead

"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled."

"Eleonora" 

Eight locked room murders in the last review of the eighth month of the year!

It was Mitsumura Shitsuri who was the defendant in the trial in Japan that created the Golden Age of Locked Room Murders in Japan: she was accused of committing a murder, but the police were not able to figure out how the murderer could've committed and then left the crime scene, as it was found locked from the inside. Shitsuri was succesfully defended with the argument that an unsolved locked room mystery was as strong as any alibi: the prosecution being incapable of proving how anyone could've committed the murder and escape a locked room in essence meant every single person on the planet had an alibi. If it was impossible for anyone, why would it be possible for specifically the defendant? This created a rage among would-be murderers to commit their crimes in locked rooms, for that seemed like a perfect defense. This was the perfect breeding ground for locked room murder specialists, both within the police and among private detectives, but also among criminals, where locked room murder consultants became a lucrative business.

Shitsuri's classmate Kasumi this finds himself dragged to the mountains by his childhood friend Yuzuki, as she's looking for New Nessie in the Tama River. the two end up lost in the mountains a little time before dusk, but are fortunately found by Monokaki Camembert ("his mother was a foreigner"), who lives in the nearby Village of Eight Boxes. Because there is no other place nearby where the two can stay, Camembert suggests they come with him to the village and stay in the inn there. To the great surprise of both Kasumi and Yuzuki, they vind the Village of Eight Boxes is actually located inside a gigantic cave, that can only be accessed via a long tunnel, which is guarded during the day and of which the gate is closed during the night. The villages is called like this, because the houses in this village are built like smooth lacquer boxes (you don't need pointy roofs with a drainage system inside a cave where it never rains!). It takes some time for Kasumi to realize Monokaki Camembert is in fact one of the members of the Monokaki Clan: a family of locked room murder mystery authors, Father Fuichirou was the foremost writer of locked room mysteries in Japan, but he recently passed away, leaving a huge fortune to his nine children, who have followed in their father's footsteps, or are trying to. Each of his children specialize in a different kind of locked room mystery novel, like medical locked room mysteries, historical ones, or even hardboiled ones. The family all live here in the village, though their manor is physically seperated from the rest of the village via a chasm in the cave. Kasumi also learns a local festival is going to start that very evening, and it last for about a week, and during that time, it is not allowed for anyone to leave the village, or else an evil spirit will kill them.

When the festival starts however, one of the Monokaki daughters is seen to be killed by a masked figure, but they quickly disappear with the corpse. However, after Camembert and Kasumi have gone to the Monokaki manor to inform the rest of the family about the murder, the bridge that crosses the chasm in the village is blown up, leaving the people in the manor trapped on their side of the cave. Meanwhile, the other villagers decide it might be better to call the police, but they find the lines have been cut, and when one brave villager, despite the local belief telling him not to, tries to venture beyond the tunnel in order to fetch the police, a gate suddenly closes off the tunnel, and the villager suddenly bursts out in flames, even though nobody was near him. Yuzuki, who is still in the village, discovers the body of the disappearing Monokaki daughter in one of the houses, but to the surprise of both her and the local constable, the house is locked from the inside. And as they scramble about, they stumble upon more dead bodies of members of the Monokaki family inside locked rooms. Fortunately, Yuzuki runs into two women in the village who can solve these crimes: not only is the author Oujou Teika, Japan's young queen of the locked room mystery, staying at the same inn as Yuzuki, it turns out Shitsuri too is working here as a part-time help. Can they solve the many locked room murders occuring the Village of Eight Boxes both on this side of the cave, as well as inside the Monokaki Manor in Kamosaki Danro's Misshitsu Henai Jidaino Satsujin - Tozasareta Mura to Yattsu no Trick (2024), which also bears the English title The Murder in the Fetishistic Age of Locked Rooms: The Closed Village and the Eight Tricks.

This is the third book in Kamosaki's series on the Golden Age of Locked Rooms and The Age of Frenzy of Locked Rooms and by now, the titles have become more and more ridiculous, but I guess that is also the point, which is also exemplified by the fact we are now in the fetishistic age of locked rooms, where the locked room mystery almost takes on a perverted form. For in a way, that is exactly what this book does. The first book featured six main locked room murder mysteries (or otherwise impossible situations), the second had seven of them, and now this third entry has no less than eight of them! And while this was already a problem with the second book, the fact Kamosaki wants to cover so many locked room murder situations in a limited amount of pages, means that on the whole, these books are more about quantitty than quality. That is not to say the ideas behind the locked rooms are bad on their own per se, but there is basically not set-up each time: they stumble upon a murder scene, Kamosaki has just enough space to actually describe how the scene looks like, and perhaps one character might suggest a wrong solution, but then we have Shitsuri who has one look at the crime scene and she can suddenly solve the whole thing, even if the trick is insanely complex and involving multiple steps. There is no real feeling of catharsis when she solves the mysteries, because not enough time is used to actually make it feel like a proper mystery, nor do you feel satisfied by the "logical pay-off" of the solution, because the solution is suddenly sprung upon the reader. So while sometimes the idea behind the locked room mystery can be cool and memorable on its own, it's the execution that lacks, because every murder feels like a descrete point with next to no connection to the other murders.

To be honest, it started out really promising, as the first two murders are the ones that are actually thematically connected, with an interesting conundrum arising when the solutions to these rooms are first suggested. The problem that comes up because of how they are solved is interesting and creates a very fun logical brainteaser. The false solutions proposed here are also far more interesting than the ones we see later, if we see them at all, and it feels like Kamosaki focused a lot of attention to these murders. I think these were among my favorites too in the book, as the synergy shown during this part of the book is what really shows what I think this series should do: have it be meaningful there are so many locked room murders in a closed circle situation, instead of just throwing a bunch of them on a pile. Two others I also liked a lot: one involving the victim having been hanged in a building, but the security system shows nobody entered the building the last 24 hours, neither the victim nor any murderer! The trick might become a bit obvious if I explain a specific point regarding how they found the victim, but the trick itself is original. Another one is one of the most horrifying locked room murder tricks I've ever come across in mystery fiction, and involves the victim having been decapitated in a room while their body had been tied to a table in the room: the mechanics behind how the murderer pulled this trick off are just too terrible to even to think about, and devilishl clever.

The others vary a lot in quality. The combustion murder of the villager for example involves the most crudest of clues, and the "okay, this is silly, but not the good kind of silly" trick has your eyes rolling. There are more murder situations later in the book that are also incredbily silly in concept, but at least those are so silly they become good, even if the execution can be faulted. Others feel more like showpieces of random scientific trivia, while one also feels like a Professor Layton puzzle more than anything. The last 'big' mystery that is solved involves some Queenian logic, which I can always appreciate and something I also noticed in the second volume, but on the whole, Kamosaki is definitely someone who ultimately just wants to show off a lot of locked room murders, that are created via mechanical tricks. He however often does the bare minimum of actually making them relevant to the story or each other. Characters may or may not have a single line of dialogue before they are killed, there's no build in tension because every event feels so seperate from each other and once you're done with the book, you'll have forgotten half of the locked rooms already, because they were handled in such a brief and uninvolved manner.

But again, that is what makes this books a little bit fetishistic, as the title itself also says: the book only exists to flaunder with all the locked room murder situations Kamosaki could come up with, and some of them are really creative on a basic, fundamental level. As you can guess, this also comes back to the motive behind the murders on all these locked room murder mystery authors, and that part I really liked, Interestingly, it reminded me of a certain novel by Kitayama Takekuni, who is also an author who specializes in mechanically constructed locked room murder mysteries, so it's funny how Kamosaki also arrives at a similar "conclusion" regarding locked room murder fiction.

Misshitsu Henai Jidaino Satsujin - Tozasareta Mura to Yattsu no Trick is, unsurprisingly, more of the same after the previous two books. More locked room murders, but beyond that, it's not really that different from them, and while I can recommend this book too to lovers of locked room mysteries, because some of the murders here are really worth reading (no matter how silly they can be at times), but like with the previous books, you do have to admit Kamosaki is mainly about showcasing all these ideas, and they do feel lacking in the way they form a cohesive narrative, and how they are actually presented as "mystery" fiction with clues and a process of logic leading to the solution.

Original Japanese title(s): 鴨崎暖炉『密室偏愛時代の殺人 閉ざされた村と八つのトリック』

Panic on Gull Island

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
"The Raven"

Suddenly craving fried chicken...

Iwaido Yasumi is a student at Teiou University who hopes to impress his lecturer Uehara Kanon, a beautiful, cool-headed woman who teaches his cultural anthropology class. He ends up writing a paper that is actually quite impressive, so much so she summons him to her office. Not because she's become romantically interested in him, but to make sure he didn't plagiarize his essay. While Yasumi tries more than once to woe Kanon, she brushes his advances and informs him that Professor Kirimura Satoru, the most influential professor at their faculty, has also read his thesis and has ordered Yasumi to be added to an upcoming fieldwork trip. Kirimura will lead a team, including Kanon and Yasumi, to Torikui Island, a solitary island that is technically part of Japan, but which has been deemed "off-limits" for decades. Centuries ago, it was used as an island to send sentenced criminals to, even though there were indigenous inhabitants too, and with time, a unique culture developed, seperating the island in two distinct clans, one of the indigenous people and one of the descendents of the sentenced criminals. The main staple food on the island is surprisingly not fish, but birds of prey, and the two clans are named after their preferred food: the Eagle clan and the Raven clan. Because sentenced criminals were usually branded by having a part of their body mutilated, the people on the island also developed a unique sense of "beauty": when an islander becomes an adult, a part of their body is amputated to mark them as as a full adult person: the Eagle clan people mutilate their face (eyes or ears removed), while the Raven have limbs removed. Long ago, a person rumored to be related to a very important and esteemed bloodline was banished to the island and this Man in the Iron Mask-esque figure became feared and respected as a living god on the island named the Bird Demon. Because of their bloodline, the Japanese authorities also occasionally sent supplies to the island to ensure the people there could live, despite it being completely cut off from the rest of Japan and it was forbidden for people from the mainland to go to Torikui Island, or vice-versa. Some decades ago, Takaoka Jinichi, professor at Teiou University, stayed for months at the island to do research on the local culture, and it is the only source of information on the island.

Kirimura Satoru, who studied under Takaoka, also visited the island in the past, but now returns for a new research trip, because recently, Inou Nao, the young daughter of the island's only doctor, escaped the island in search for help. Inou Kaoruko hails from the mainland, but was stationed at the island to serve as the only medical expert. Nao was raised on the island, but has now violated the island rules to look for help: she claims that the last few years, the peace on the island has been visibly crumbling apart: there are only about thirty people left on the island, with few children, and both the Eagle and Raven clans are on the way to extinction. This has caused a very strong rift between the two clans, and it could go wrong anytime. While usually, the Japanese authorities does not allow for visits to Torikui Island, Kanon reveals to Yasumi there's a hidden agenda to their research: the government wants to use Torikui Island as an experiment to see how people will act in a declining society that is on the verge of falling apart. 

To Yasumi's big disappointment, he learns on the day they are travelling to the island that Kanon isn't allowed to go, because Kirimura Satoru deems her an academic rival and doesn't want her around. Other people in the team however include Kirimura's half-sister (an academic too), a researcher attached to the university and two government "observers". Nao is also brought along, though in disguise, because she violated the local rules. When they arrive at the island by yacht, they are "welcomed" by the Eagle clan, though some of them seem to blame Kirimura for the fall of the island, as everything started to slowly crumble after his visit many years ago. They learn the Bird Demon has disappeared from the island, and because this figure of authority is gone, the rivalry between the Eagle and Raven clans has only worsened. In fact, the two clans are so against each other the houses on the island are in fact built to alternate between a house of the Eagle and Raven clan, so they can all keep an eye on each other like a panopticon. The fieldwork team settles for the night, but Kirimura goes out for a stroll, while Yasumi calls Kanon to report on the on-goings on the island. When Yasumi remembers he left his phone charger in the boat, he returns to the beach to the yacht, but he finds Nao stabbed to dead on the beach. But for some reason, only Nao's own footprints are found in the sand, and there are no signs of footprints left by her killer. At that same moment, he receives a message from Kirimura Misaki, who summons the rest of the team to her, because she found her own brother murdered. These two deaths however are just the starting sign for a full breakdown of Torikui Island in Mori Akimaro's Setsudantou no Satsuriku Riron (2024), or as the cover also says: The Genocide Theories in the Mutilation Island.

This was definitely a book I picked because of the crazy premise and alluring title: an island where people willing mutilate themselves because they think it's beautiful? A closed circle mystery set inn isolated and small society doomed to fail and end in genocide? I had never read anything by Mori Akimaro before, but this description really sounded alluring to me, especially with its focus on anthropology.

Once I got started reading however, it did take me a lot of time to get used to the protagonist, and even at the end, I never learned to like him. He's constantly trying to be witty and hitting on Kanon, his lecturer, and after a while it really got old. There's some mystery revolving around how he wrote his essay even though he himself even admits he doesn't quite understand how he could've written such an impressive work, but that is hardly fairly clewed: while it has huge implications for him, it's not really that well integrated with the main mystery of the murders that occur on the island, and it felt like two completely different ideas that don't work together. But add to that the fact he's really obnoxious every time he talks to Kanon (he's constantly keeping her up-to-date on what has happened on the island), and it's really a shame he's the character we're constantly following in this narrative...

Once we arrive on the island however, we do get the highlight of the book: Torikui Island, its inhabitants and the unique culture they have. Mori does a great job at setting the scene and explaining how the people on the island developed their own cultures, based on their food culture (eating predatory birds, as you obviously can't have cattle on a small island like that) and the fact most of them are descended in some way from mutilated criminals, giving them a warped sense of beauty: all the adults miss a body part, and the children aren't seen as full humans because they still have all their body parts. The rivalry between the clans creates the unique situation where the houses are laid out like a panopticon around the main square, and so you instantly get a kind of impossible crime set-up, because everyone is watching each other. That is how the book also initially sets things up, as while Kirimura Satoru and Nao end up dead, the islanders are quite sure none of them are the murderer, and are more suspicious of the fieldwork team members. We also have the wildcard Kaoruko, the mother of Nao, who does live on the island, but has never been fully accepted by either clan. While we initially are 'treated' to the double murder of Kirimura and Nao, we soon see the native inhabitants be killed too in all kinds of manners: while these situations are seldom 'impossible' or pure mysteries on their own (i.e. killed in a way anyone could've done it), that doesn't make their deaths less interesting: the slow downfall of the island society is truly a sight to behold, and at the same time, Mori manages to use the very unique island culture to create a few very ingenous and crafty situations that could only occur here. The use of anthropology to create tricks in mystery is something I very much like (see for example the use of religious concepts to create mysteries in the Toujou Genya series), and The Genocide Theories in the Mutilation Island very much succeeds in that aspect: a lot happens in this book, and surprisingly enough, those happenings could really only happen here, because this is such a weird place, and some of the mysteries the reader will be treated to, are extremely memorable cause of that. And when Yasumi isn't trying to interrupt the discussions by hitting on Kanon, there are actually quite interesting musings on anthropological topics that pertain to this novel, from the consumption of birds to views on beauty etc.

But there is a caveat. A pretty big one too. Don't be reading this for the impossible crimes. There are a few impossible situations, from the no-footprints-in-the-sand situation at the beginning, to Kirimura also being killed in a place that was basically observed, but the solution to these mysteries is really outrageous. I guess you could say it was hinted at, but not in a sane manner, and nothing about the story leading up to the reveal seemed to even suggest this would be such an insane mystery novel, so to me, it really felt like it came out of nowhere. I loved the way Torikui Island was developed as a very strange, yet weirdly convincing place, but Mori certainly didn't manage to pull the same thing off in regards to his impossible crimes in this novel. In a way, this could be seen as a 'so-silly-it's-brilliant' type of explanation, but I find the juxtaposition with the more serious depiction of the island's culture from an anthropological POV not smooth, though your mileage may vary there.

So in the end, I do think Setsudantou no Satsuriku Riron is a really cool mystery novel, with an absolutely banger of a setting which is used in clever ways for some of the mysteries, but I wouldn't be reading this solely for the impossible crimes, and you do need to be aware it's a bit weird when it comes to the solution, despite the rather heavy themes of the events on the island. Still, a very memorable novel which I am likely not going to forget soon.

Original Japanese title(s):  森晶麿『切断島の殺戮理論』

Murder Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

Oh, it all started with the silly phrase 'No smoke without fire.' People have been saying that ad nauseam.

"The Moving Finger"

As a non-smoker, I had not even ever heard of cigarillos before...

Mori Asako works as a freelance tourist guide in the ancient capital of Kyoto and the last two days, she's been the exclusive guide to J.P Bernas, a wealthy Filipino who runs a cigarillo farm. Bernas came to Japan to talk business, as he hopes to extend the export of cigarillos from the Philippines to Japan, though that is difficult due to import quota on tobacco products, and the fact most of that quota is used for American tobacco. But as a lover of Japan, the trip isn't all business, so he has privately hired Asako so he can get a good look around Kyoto. After visiting Kiyomizu-dera Temple, he asks Asako he forgot to buy an English pamphlet as a souvenir, so he asks whether she could return and buy it for him. Aasako leaves her client for a minute, but when she returns, she finds the street is brimming with people, and an ambulance and the police: Bernas lies dead on the street, having been stabbed in the back with a knife! Asako is of course taken in for questioning, though she can't tell Inspector Kariya much about Bernas' businesses. However, Kariya does reveal to Asako that Bernas was holding tight to a 10 yen coin when he was found dead, and he wonders whether that has any significance, though Asako assures Kariya Bernas knew the worth of a 10 yen coin (not much), so it's not likely he was being robbed and he refused to give up that coin. When Asako returns home and discusses the murder her husband Ichirou, who is an investigative reporter, they really that Asako had visited Byoudou-in Temple with Bernas the day before, and that temple is featured on the 10 yen coin. Asako recalls Bernas had been acting a bit weird at the temple, after seeing something, or someone. Meanwhile, Inspector Kariya dives into Bernas' business partners at Tainan Bussan Ltd., where he learns that Bernas' son died last year in an accident with a Cessna: the son had been travelling with the Manilla manager of Tainan Bussan Ltd. to have a look at the tobacco fields of Bernas, when the plane crashed. Kariya suspects Bernas' death might have to do with his son's death, and perhaps some internal political struggle regarding wanting to import more cigarillos, but he can't seem to connect the dots together. Ichirou and Asako also start their own investigation, with Ichirou hoping to get a scoop, but the Moris soon learn there's a larger conspiracy hiding behind everything, and they are starting to attract attention to themselves in Yamamura Misa's Cigarillo no Wana ("The Cigarillo Trap", 1977).

It's not like I read Yamamura Misa's work often, but I have to say I was a bit confused when I started this book and learned the protagonist was called Asako, because that was also the name of the protagonist of the Yamamura novel I read last time, last year... Ichirou is also a name you see often in her works I think.

Yamamura Misa is a name you'll hear about sooner or later once you start reading up on Japanese mystery fiction, because she was extremely prolific and at a time, very often featured on television and video games due to various adaptations of her work, or new stories based on her work. Her main themes were women protagonists and the ancient capital Kyoto (and Japanese culture), which of course provided an entertaining for adaptations on television, and it made her name synonymous for the two-hour suspense drama television special set in Kyoto or perhaps some other touristic destination featuring a dramatic finale with the detective confronting the murderer at a cliffside looking down at the sea. I very occasoinally try out her work, but in general, the mystery plots are very light, though some books like Hana no Hitsugi, were more like the reasonably solid puzzle-focused books I generally read. 

My attention was drawn to this particular book, Cigarillo no Wana, because I saw it mentioned in a list with taped locked room murders: locked room situations where all the exits/entrances have been sealed with tape from the inside. Note that it didn't say whether it was good or bad or original or anything, just that it featured one, but that was enough to make me interested in the book, as taped locked room mysteries are not that common. I didn't read this particular version of the book by the way, but I like this cover better...

Cigarillo no Wana is certainly a typical Yamamura Misa work, with the focus on Asako, a fairly strong female protagonist who is actually married to a horrible husband who barely cares about her and is only thinking about his scoop, and then there's of course Kyoto as the setting, with various famous touristic destinations in the ancient capital playing an important role in the story. If you want to escape into fantasy and become a tourist in the pages of a book, Yamamura basically always has you covered when it comes to Kyoto. Inspector Kariya was originally a secondary character in Yamamura's work, but he kept on making appearances in several of her series (with women protagonists), and eventually became a leading protagonist himself too (even has his own live-action drama series!), and you could argue he shares the spotlight with Asako here.

The first few murders (yes, there are multiple murders) in the book are fairly simple in terms of practicality, with people just stabbed to death and things like that. The first half of the mystery is split in two interconnecting narratives, with Asako and her husband trying to investigate the case from their side (in order to get Ichirou his scoop), and Inspector Kariya (a recurring character in Yamamura's work) doing an official investigation. Because both sides have access to different information and means, they tackle the case from different angles, but slowly do come closer. Because Kariya suspects strongly Asako and her husband are intentionally not telling him the whole story, he starts to suspect them too, and that creates a rather fun read, with the two sides in reality working on the same case, but for different purposes which frames them as rivals. On both sides a lot of guesswork is done, but it results in both sides uncovering there's a rather big, political plot lurking behind Bernas' death, and it reaches surprisingly high in society. I remember that was also the case in Egypt Joou no Hitsugi ("The Tomb of the Egyptian Queen"), the Yamamura I read last year, and it reminds me of Matsumoto Seichou's work, who very much championed the mystery story about political intriges leading to murder among the common man. There's a distinct social school vibe going on her, though Yamamura does lean a bit more on the "classic" mystery tropes than Matsumoto would.

So a lot of the mystery revolves around figuring out why Bernas was killed, and that gets revealed bit by bit as the two sides start digging. It's a complex web of political intrigue, which I found entertaining enough, but it's not really the type of mystery I usually read or enjoy, so I do find it hard to describe this as a book I'd recommend. Nearer to the end, we have the taped locked room murder that first led me to reading this book: a man is found dead in his car parked near a cliff (it's always a dramatic cliff in these stories!), with the exhaust hooked up back inside the car with a hose, making it appear like a carbon monoxide suicide. The doors and windows have been taped tight from the inside and there's of course only the victim inside the car, meaning he must have done this himself, right? Of course not, because it was murder (it's always murder), but I have to say the trick was rather disappointing, as it's the same as the trick of a famous instance of the taped locked room murder: as I mentioned before, there aren't that many of them, so it stands out even more when you utilize the same trick. I do like what Yamamura did to ensure the trick would work within this specific story in terms of practicality, as in, I can imagine it working here, with the way she placed her props and set the scene. But still, I wouldn't be recommending this book per se if you're specifically looking for taped locked rooms, because you're likely already familiar with the better known instance.

Cigarillo no Wana isn't in any way much worse, or much better than the other Yamamura Misa works I have read until now. It's exactly the type of story you'd expect to be written for a two hour television mystery special you'd come across while zapping: nice shots of Kyoto, an inoffensive tale that is relatively easy to follow with a few twists and turns and by the time the special has ended, you'll already have forgotten most of the story. Not the Yamamura I'd recommend, but also not one I'd tell to stay away from.

Original Japanese title(s): 山村美紗『葉煙草（シガリロ）の罠』

Out of the Past

"That is where the rare plants and the butterflies are, if you have the wit to reach them.”

"The Hound of the Baskervilles"

While I like reading short story collections, I generally don't really like writing the reviews, because they take up much more time. For some reason I read four short story collections in a row, with today's book being one of those four, though I switched the order in which I wrote these posts.

Chou to Shite Shisu ("He Died A Butterfly", 2022) is a historical short story collection by Hanyuu Asuka, starring as its main detective Taira no Yorimori, half-brother of Taira no Kiyomori, who established the samurai-dominated administrative government in Japan. While Yorimori had military success in his career at one time, the centralization of power to Kiyomori's own men soon meant Yorimori was sidelined, finding his career hitting a stop and now living a peaceful life in Kyoto as the Lord of the Lake. Because Yorimori's sharp mind is not being used on the battlefield anymore, he intends to use his analytical skills to resolve incidents taking place in the place, as hoping to regain the favor of his half-brother. This collection holds five adventures for Yorimori, set in different parts of his life as he tries to climb back up the career ladder in a highly volitile military environment in the Heian period.

Hanyuu Asuka won the 2018 Mysteries! Newcomer Award with the short story Kabane Sanemori ("The Corpse Sanemori") included in this book, but even though this award of publisher Tokyo Sogensha is meant for unpublished authors, they were not really one: Hanyuu had been active since 2010 as a writer of children's fiction under the name Saitou Asuka, but after winning and publishing enough stories with Yoritomo to collect in a volume, they changed their name to Hanyuu Asuka, perhaps also to differentiate between the actress and former Nogizaka46 member with the same name. Before winning in 2018, Hanyuu had also made it to the final judging round of the Mysteries! Newcomer Award in the previous year with Kaburo-Goroshi ("Murder of a Kaburo"), which serves as the opening story of this collection. The citizens of Kyoto have been complaining about the kaburo Kiyomori has set loose on town: these boys with a page cut serve as his spies in the city, reporting all the on-goings to him. When one of these kaburo is found murdered near a temple, the people in the neighborhood are afraid they'll be blamed for the death of one of Kiyomori's men, so they send someone to warn Yorimori: they hope the Lord of the Lake will solve this case for them, as they know Yorimori is waiting for any chance to do self-promotion to his half-brother. Yorimori swiftly examines the scene, and soon finds out the murder on the kaburo might be hiding something bigger. This story introduces the format all stories in this collection follow, with a rather lengthy introduction that provides the historical context, followed by a rather short mystery and Yorimori swiftly solving it, and then ending with a historical contextualization of the case. This story has Yorimori solving the murder on the kaburo surprisingly easily, with the major clue being simple, but quite fair, but I have to admit I found the process a bit too short. But I do really like the historical contextualization of the case, and that is in general where these stories shine: Hanyuu is excellent at presenting history and using tidbits like the kaburo to create mysteries that only could have happened in that time period, in that specific cultural/political environment. So the act of the murder of the kaburo wasn't very memorable on its own, but the way it builds on actual history to provide unique motives and other parts of the mystery, is great.

Aoi-no-mae Araware ("Pitiful Aoi-no-Mae") has Yorimori investigate the death of Aoi-no-mae, a former servant who had been loved by the emperor Takakura, but died a mysterious death. When Takakura learns about a certain poison, he realizes the symptoms resembles the one Aoi-no-mae showed before she died. He asks Yorimori to investigate her death, as he has no idea how Aoi-no-mae could have been poisoned, as they ate and drank together. This impossible poisoning case is a bit simple to solve, as not only does it revolve around something you'll often see in poisoning stories, it basically only works due to the (lack of) knowledge back in the Heian period, while you'd be far more likely to think of it in this day and age. So while it works as a historical work, and very well as that, as a detective story read now, it might lack a real surprise.

In Kabane Sanemori ("The Corpse Sanemori"), Yorimori is asked to identify the body of general Saitou Sanemori, a warrior who fought in the Gempei War and died on the battlefield at age 73. During their retreat, his men had buried his body in a make-shift grave as they weren't able to bring his body along during their retreat, but when they later returned to retrieve the body, more bodies had been buried at the same place. Now Yorimori has to identify Sanemori's body out of five candidates. I was not too big a fan of this one, as it felt a bit too... clinical? Like, a clue being Sanemori's age, so an obviously younger looking corpse being ruled out and things like that. While one clue is good, because it is rooted in actual history and Saitou Sanemori's character, I felt the mystery was less important than the surrounding historical story. While these stories generally manage to get the right balance between history lesson and mystery, I felt this one was the one where the mystery felt a bit tacked on, even though the problem itself (the difficulty in identifying a specific person on the battlefield) is one I like, like the one in Kokuroujou (AKA The Samurai and the Prisoner).

The fourth story is Tomurai Senju ("Thousand-Armed Mourning"), which I have already discussed when it was featured in the anthology Honkaku-Ou 2021, so I will be skipping it here. Please refer to that post to hear about that (pretty good!) story.

Rokudai Hiwa ("The Secret of the Sixth") is set much later in Yorimori's life, after the Taira are basically defeated by the Minamoto clan. The Minamotos are hunting for the grandson of Taira no Kiyomori, Taira no Takakiyo, who is also known as the Sixth as he was the sixth generation since Taira no Masamori, who facilated the rise of power of his clan. The hunt leads to Yorimori's manor: Yorimori is leading a retreated life now, having converted himself to being a monk and having cut ties with the Taira. However, the Minamotos suspect Yorimori has hiding the grandson of his half-brother, by having Takakiyo pose as one of his own sons. Yorimori of course denies the accusation, but how can he prove that? In essence, the problem is one that is similar to the aforementioned problem with Sanemori: in an era with no real identity records or photographs, how do you prove a person is actually that person, and not someone else? While I am not a big fan of the main proof provided by Yorimori to show he's not hiding Takakiyo, I do like the minor tricks he plays on the Minamoto hunters to put them on the wrong trail. 

Chou to Shite Shisu dives deep into actual real history and each story starts with basically a history lesson (and you'll be looking up a lot depending on how much (little) you know about this era), so while some might love this book for that, others might find it a bit tiring. While the core plots can be a bit simple at time, Hanyuu does a great job at linking these cases into actual historical context, and you're almost inclined to be believe it really happened like this, because it all fits so nicely. Yorimori is also an interesting detective, someone who is really trying to prove himself, not because he is a believer in truth or justice, but because of the political background, and seeing him trying to manouver himself into certain social positions in a volatile and often outright hostile environment is interesting, especially as we know he ultimately never really managed to arrive at where he wanted to be. Hanyuu has written a scond volume in this series, a full-length novel, and I will probably read that one in the future too!

Original Japanese title(s): 羽生飛鳥『蝶として死す』: 「禿髪殺し」/「葵前哀れ」/「屍実盛」/「弔千手」/「六代秘話」

The Border-Line Case

"Space, the final frontier."

"Star Trek"

This has nothing to do with the book of this post, but: Mu is one of my favorite characters from Saint Seiya, and I love his attacks Starlight Extinction and Stardust Revolution.

Hase Homare is a tour attendent on a special monitoring trip for the first low-cost space carrier: a group of guests have been selected to come along to spaceship "Hope!!", which will bring them to the space station hotel Stardust, where they'll enjoy a few nights before heading back to Earth. The service will start officially soon, so this special trip is one last check to see if everything will go as planned. There are just a handful of guests coming along, most of them who have paid a lot of money to be able to see Earth from space (and one student who just happened to win a contest), so there are only two staff members on Hope!!: Homare and the captain Itou, a former astronaut, who after a period of seeing the bottle too often, has gotten his life on control again, eager to prove himself to his family and the rest of the world. The trip to Stardust goes perfectly, with all the guests arriving safely at the hotel, where they are greeted by the hotel staff who had arrived earlier. The hotel resembles a cone with a halo around it: the main cone building, with the dock, storerooms and all the equipment and machines, has mainly zero or low gravity, so people are advised to use the special belts they have to anchor themselves, though there's is gravity in the halo part of the building, which is where the guests rooms and lobbies are. While Homare goes off to write up a report on the trip for headquarters, Itou starts carrying out rations they brought on their ship to the storerooms, but when Itou doesn't return, Homare goes looking for the captain, only to find Itou dead in one of the storerooms. However, the scene is bizarre: it looks like Itou hanged himself with a belt... only you generally can't hang yourself if there's no gravity. Staff members all have special smartwatches that monitor their movements, and it appears nobody of the staff came even close to the storeroom around the death of Itou, so that seems to clear them, so does that mean one of the hotel guests is the murderer? Or was it suicide. The management back on Earth however order Homare to continue as planned, as too much is at stake on this first test trip. When a second death happens however, the hotel staff members use escape pods to return to Earth, citing their legal work conditions (only allowed x hours in space), leaving Homare and the guests alone in the hotel. Homare can operate "Hope!!" all by himself up to a degree, but the guests all seem reluctant to return to Earth now, as they have just arrived, so it's decided they stay in Stardust as initially planned, but then more deaths occur while trapped up in space in Momono Zappa's Hoshikuzu no Satsujin (2023), or as the book also says on the cover: Stardust Murder.

Momono Zappa is a game scenario writer who made their debut as a novelist in 2021 with Rouko Zanmu ("Dreams Are All That Remain To The Tiger Who Has Grown Old"), a cool mystery novel that utilized a wuxia fiction background. Hoshikuzu no Satsujin similarly has a mystery set in a rather unique location: a space station. At the same time, we're not talking about the super far future: the world portrayed in this book is certainly quite close, with low-cost space carriers probably appearing soon, and the setting is far closer to our current society than say the mobile suits in Gundam Wearwolf, also a mystery set in space. So for a great part, a lot of the setting of Hoshikuzu no Satsujin will be almost the same as ours, with people needing Wi-Fi to do livestreams for back on Earth. In fact, Momono does a great job at portraying the practical difficulties of operating such a space station, occasionally touching upon the technical and scientific details about how things are working at Stardust. At one point, the space station also loses its contact with Earth, leaving Homare unable to call back to headquarters and inform them about the subsequent deaths after Itou's death, and the idea of just... being stuck in space without a way to call for help is just horrible. Of course, they have escape pods they could use, but Homare does emphasize that the escape pods just shoots them towards Earth to the ocean, so it could take days before the pods are actually retrieved and they're saved, so it's a last resort. So there's a lot of mileage to be taken from the concept of a closed circle situation... in space.

Like in Rouko Zanmu, Momono does like focusing on their characters and what drives them: each of the guests, but also the staff members have their own specific reasons for wanting to come to space, and it's what also informs their actions while being confronted with their predicament. Like a lot of these And Then There Were None-esque stories, you'll be looking out for motives in each character's backstory for wanting to commit murders while being in a closed circle situation (and in space, no less!), and the interplay between the various backstories does allow for a bit of going back and forth between suspects, though I'll be honest and say that motive-looking is seldom my favorite part of a mystery story. Those who want a more introspective mystery however, might find something they'll like here, as of course, the dream of going into space is one that has mesmerized people since ancient times, and you can easily imagine how everyone holds very different thoughts about what space could mean to them.

As for the mystery, a lot of the immediate riddles Homare and the rest of the guests are confronted with, are about howdunnits: whether it was a suicide or murder, how could Itou have been hanged, if there's no gravity to do the hanging? Another guest is nearly suffocated in his room, even though they locked the door before going to sleep (i.e.a locked room), and more such curious incidents happen. The tricks behind these occurings are... perhaps not surprisingly if you think about it, but I have to admit I was surprised how technical some of these tricks were. In a way, Momono does hint at these tricks, but the jump from being presented clue A and me deducing that could result in trick X was way too far for me, so I personally didn't always feel as impressed with the trick as I could've been: perhaps a more science-minded reader will love what Momono does here, as the tricks utilized by the culprit does make good use of the space station setting. I wouldn't say this is hard science by the way, just some things aren't as intuitive to my feeble humanities mind as for the author.

There's a direct sequel to this book by the way, Rousoku was Moeteiru ka (Is the Candle Burning?), which focuses on one of the guests of the hotel after returning to Earth. I have no idea whether the semi-scifi setting of this book is continued in the second book, so in that sense, that is kinda what interests me.

Anyway, Hoshikuzu no Satsujin uses a unique setting, but without going overboard or alienating readers with the lite scifi setting. While mystery-wise, I felt some of the tricks were a bit too technical for me to feel intuitively clever, as a book about people being trapped in a space station under deadly circumstances, I found the book quite captivating, and I blazed through it in no time, because I wanted to know how it'd end. I will probably pick up the sequel in the future too, so expect a review of that book too. 

Original Japanese title(s): 桃野雑派『星くずの殺人』

Fishing for Clues

"Unagi is a state of total awareness. Only by achieving true unagi can you be prepared for any danger that may befall you."
"Friends"

The Roman Hat Mystery. The French Powder Mystery. The Japanese Christie Mystery. The Japanese Carr Mystery. The Japanese Larsson Mystery. The Swedish Carr Mystery. The Chinese Carr Mystery. The American Christie Mystery. The...

Bruno Fredner is a wealthy man, who owns farmlands (and the farms on it) as well as forests in Småland, Sweden. He controls the land on which the people live in this region, and not surprisingly, that notion starts to get to certain people, and Fredner himself isn't doing much to help the brewing tension between him and the local people by being a womanizer who uses his money and influence to get the women he wants. That things have become only grimmer becomes immediately clear to Lasse, who has recently returned to his home village. The economist grew up here, but left for Stockholm, leaving his brother and mother to tend to the farm they rent from Fredner. Learning about the latest gossips, he learns how Fredner has now seduced his brother's girlfriend Eivør and that they have announced their engagement, even though his brother, Eivør's ex-ex-boyfriend and her aunts (her guardians) absolutely despite Fredner, along with the rest of the townspeople. So were people really surprised when Bruno Fredner was found murdered one day... inside an eel box? Well, probably, because that's not a likely place to die. Bruno Fredner owned a piece of land along the Nissan river, and he had placed a trap along a small dam to capture eel, a box which lets water (and eels) in, but where the eels are prevent from swimming out. Bruno Fredner was found inside his own eel box, but more curiously enough, the box' lid was locked with a padlock, and the only key was found on Fredner's body! Furthermore, Fredner's body was completely dry, meaning he wasn't 'swallowed' into the box via the river itself. This curious case of the locked eel box asks for the mind of Inspector Bertil Durell in Jan Ekström's Ålkistan ("The Eel Chest", 1967), which was translated to Japanese as Unagi no Wana ("The Eel Trap") in 2024 by Mizuki Sayako.

The Japanese version describes Jan Ekström as the Swedish Dickson Carr, a nomer which probably has lost all its meaning as everyone is [Nationality] [Different Author Name] nowadays. As this is the only book by Ekström I have read, I can't really comment to the accuracy of that nickname, but if Ålkistan is anything to go by, I assume the nickname comes more from the fact he wrote a locked room mystery, than actually being close to John Dickson Carr in terms of writing style/atmosphere. While small villages with colorful characters are also seen Carr stories, this one is a bit mundane in terms of setting and we certainly don't get spooky ghost stories that have been told for centuries in those neighborhoods or anything like that.

Though some of the melodrama comes close, I suppose. The book follows several characters, jumping between them as we see things brew slowly: we see how everyone seems to hate Bruno Fredner, from the aunts of his future wife to spurned boyfriends of Eivør and people who find their futures endangered by the rent they have to pay to their landlord. The love... square? between Eivør, Bruno, Lasse's younger brother Magnus and farmer Jacke (who dated Eivør before Magnus) naturally creates one of the biggest motives for the murder on Bruno, so we follow the relevant characters a lot in this tale. The jumping between the various POVs adds variety, but at the same time does tend to make things feel a bit slow, as not all segments are really relevant to the mystery plot, and we just see the people react to the murder and the ensuing investigation. Which I know some readers will appreciate a lot, but I personally tend to feel like they slow down the main plot too much. Though I suppose that a lot of the depictions of rustic life in 1960s Sweden might come across as familiar and genuine to a Swedish reader? Perhaps? Okay, I'll admit I know nothing about Sweden...

I do like the bizarre and unique crime scene though. It's also a weird inversion of a locked room mystery, as the eel box wasn't locked "from the inside": the padlock was on the outside, locking the lid of the box which allows one to climb inside to retrieve captured eels. However, the key was found on Bruno's body and you can't reach his body from the top of the box. There is another "entrance" to the box via the dam, which is the inlet through which eels are supposed to swim into the box, but the dam opening was closed, and Bruno's body was also completely dry, meaning he didn't get in via the water. The trick itself is fairly original, but it is nearly impossible to guess how a certain object was used to create this locked room situation even after the introduction of the relevant clues. The basic idea behind the locked room situation itself is interesting, though oddly enough I have come across a similar trick a while ago so it was already half on my mind. What I perhaps like better is how the situation is then also used to figure out who the killer is: a lot of the clues that start pointing towards the killer arise from examining the unique crime scene and the question of why the killer had Bruno Fredner killed inside a locked eel box, and I like the quasi-Queen-esque deductions that spring from this.

I think the utterly bizarre crime scene is what really sells Ålkistan, and for that I think it's definitely worth a read, as the core mystery is competently built and it's a well-rounded detective story on the whole. It certainly made me curious to Ekström's other output, and then I remembered I had one in possession actually: The November 2024 issue of Hayakawa's Mystery Magazine featured a "John Dickson Carr and His Successors in the World" special, and following the relative success of the Japanese release of Ålkistan among mystery fans, this issue featured a short story by Ekström: the story was I believe originally titled Dnr 94.028.72- Mord, translated to Japanese as Jikenbangou 94.028.72 ("Case File 94.028.72") and it too stars Inspector Bertil Durell as he tackles a locked room murder mystery.

This time the mystery set in a laboratory, where they conduct experiments in sub-zero conditions. Durell is asked to investigate the very curious death of a scientist in one of the experiment rooms: he had been in the room to conduct an icey experiment, but didn't appear out of the room after one hour, the maximum a person is allowed to stay in the freezing experiment chamber. When his superior goes check on him, the scientist was found stabbed in the room. But how did the murderer escape? The window on the ceiling was locked from the inside, while the 'normal' door was open, but it leaves a record when the door is opened during an experiment, and the two observers in the control room noticed nothing wrong about the door. 

The story is pretty short, but I do really like the lab setting of the story, which is pretty unique. The story is... not the same as Ålkistan, but it does have some similar ideas behind it. I kinda skimmed through the story, so perhaps it was just me misreading things, but I wasn't completely sure whether it was clear how certain things worked in the experiment room which allowed for the murderer to create their locked room murder trick, but it was alright considering the limitations of this story, even if I probably shouldn't have read it after Ålkistan. This story is available in English by the way. And Ekström has more books available outside of his native Swedish (which I can't read), so perhaps I will try them out in the future.

Translated Japanese title: ヤーン・エクストレム『ウナギの罠』

The Sound of Murder

「『ミステリ』では人が死ぬ。人が死なない『ミステリ』もあるが、ほとんどは人が奇妙な死に方をしている。串刺しされたり、バラバラにされたり・・・それは忌むべき物語だ。だがどうして昔の人たちは、『ミステリ』を書き、『ミステリ』を読んだのだろう。どうしてそれを喜んで受け入れたのだろう。人が殺されると嬉しいから『ミステリ』を読むのではないのか？もっとたくさん、人が死ねば、君たちは喜ぶのではないのか？」

 『オルゴーリェンヌ』

 

 "People die in mystery stories. There are mystery stories where nobody dies, but in most of them, people die in curious ways, like being impaled or cut in pieces... these are stories we should abhor. So why did the people of yore write mystery stories and read them? How could they embrace them with such joy? Does it mean they read mysteries, because they become happy when someone is killed? Don't you find it more joyous when even more people are killed?"

"Orgellienne"

I'm never sure what to think of when they change the cover of a book when they release the paperback pocket version, but still keep the same general style/idea of the trade paperback version. Why change it in the first place then...?

A long time has passed since books were banned from the world: books were seen as the source of evil, planting ideas in the minds of people and thus needed to be eradicated from the world. Mystery novels in particular were seen as a shameful past: how could people find pleasure in stories about killing others? However, before all the books were burned, some great mystery fans did everything to make sure future generations could still enjoy mystery fiction: they decided to store all mystery fiction as pure data. These people hid specialized data sets, like a set on "locked room mysteries" with the relevant books and secondary literary in so-called "Gadgets": jewels that hold the data sets and which are imbedded in other items, like a scarf. Chris has inherited such a Gadget, holding the set on The Narrator in mystery fiction, and since then, he has become interested in the forgotten art of mystery fiction, and he hopes to become a mystery writer himself. For that, he needs to find more Gadgets, and that is why he is travelling the world. However, that is a dangerous trip, as Censors are desperately hunting after any remaining books in the world: whenever they locate a book, it's not only the book that gets burned down, but the whole place it was found, just to be sure there are no other books there. The Boy Censors are particularly feared throughout the world: they have been trained since their childhood to look specifically for Gadgets and are relentless in their hunts. However, during a previous adventure, Chris became somewhat friendly with the young censor Eno, who let Chris go despite knowing he was carrying a Gadget.

During his travels, Chris learns an old friend, Kirie, has been looking for him, and he receives a message telling him to go to the place they first met. Chris carefully makes his way towards the harbor town, but on his way there, he runs into the mute girl Yuyu, who is being chased by censors. The two are detected and chased throughout the city, but are surprisingly saved by Eno, who picks the two up in his car. Eno drives to the harbor town, where they find Kirie at a small clinic, as he's very ill and has not long to live anymore. Eno explains Yuyu is being suspected of being in the possession of a Gadget. Yuyu is a housemaid who lives in Carillon House, a house located on one of the "new islands" that have emerged ever since the sea levels have been rising (i.e. it is a part of a city that has become mostly submerged, making it into an island). The censors got anonymous information a Gadget was hidden at the house, and the boy censor Karte and his lieutenant Eve are now at the house looking for it, but last night, Yuyu disappeared, which of course made her the prime suspect of having taken the Gadget away. It turns out that very rarely, once every few months, a cramped path appears between the island and the mainland at low tide, and last night happened to be such a time, which is why Yuyu managed to escape without a boat. Yuyu manages to explain that her master sent her away from the island, but she was not given a Gadget with her. Eno is torn between wanting to let Chris go, and his devotion to his work, and eventually, they decide to go to the island together: they can prove Yuyu's innocence by finding the Gadget in the Carillon House, which should resolve everything. 

The Carillon House is owned by Crowley, a wealthy man who loves music boxes above everything. He has allowed several people to live with him, paying for their food and life expenses, who create music boxes for him and the whole house is full of them. When Chris, Eno and Yuyu arrive at the house, tey find Karte and Eve are rather off-hands with their search for the lost Gadget, claiming it will find their way to them. While Chris and Eno start searching for the Gadget however, they stumble upon a horrible sight: one of the disciples of Crowley is discovered impaled on a steel beam at the light house. But how would one lift an adult body several meters up in the sky and drive their torso through a beam projecting towards the sea? As the search for the Gadget intensifies, more people end up dead, like someone found in the ruins of a toppled building and someone found killed in a tower room which was locked from the inside... Is someone using the knowledge of mystery fiction from the Gadget to commit all these murders in Kitayama Takekuni's Orgellienne (2014), or as the inner work also says: The Girl Who Became a Music Box.

Orgellienne is the second entry in Kitayama's Boy Censor series, and.... no, I haven't read the first one. Yep, I seldom read things in order. I am not sure how much this book spoils about the first, but the book explains the basic premises of the Gadgets and the Censors are the start of the story, and that's the most important thing to know, so it's not difficult to get into this world even if like me, you decide to start with the second book.

Besides Kitayama's Danganronpa Kirigiri series and a few short stories, all the books I have read by Kitayama are either formally, or informally part of his Castle series, which has a distinct, almost fantasy-like atmosphere. While the degree in which differs per book, some of them really don't take place in our world, but a more fantastical world and that's also in Orgellienne: while concepts like book burning and censors isn't fantasy per se, the way people think about books, Gadgets and the way Gadgets work as data sets that can only be activated by special means do make it sound like books are magic in this world. There's also a fairy tale-esque backstory to this book: the prologue tells about a young boy who is taken in by a master music box maker, becoming his youngest disciple and him falling in love with the master's blind daughter, and the ending is tragic, but very fantasy-like.This backstory that of course somehow connects to the current murders at the Carillon House, somehow. Chris' interactions with the mute girl Yuyu also have a dream-like element, as Yuyu shows him the ruins on the island, which is when the post-apocalyptic atmosphere of the series is felt the most, perhaps. The idea of an urban island, a part of a town + forest which has become an island due to the rising water, is pretty cool, as you have complete buildings (that have become ruins) on the otherwise almost empty island. And... for some reason I know had to think of Arkham City from the same-titled Batman game.

As Chris tries to learn more about the house and its inhabitants, he finds them all being rather secretive and before he knows it, people get killed in seemingly impossible manners. Which is of course Kitayama's bread and butter: impossible situations that are quite grand  and almost ridiculous, in this case best exemplified by the stabbed man hanging over a sea cliff, and later someone being murdered in a tower room full of music boxes. To be honest, the actual solutions to these impossible crimes are not the kind of absolute insanity I've come to expect from Kitayama: while they do rely on physical tricks as always, the solutions miss just the right amount of crazy I usually like about Kitayama's work (they are still pretty much of the string & needle variety though) and in that sense, this book was a bit disappointing.I think I liked the impossible death in a building that toppled over the best: the building was lying completely on its side, and the victim seemingly either fell down themselves, or was pushed down through the broken windows of one of the higher floors (which because it was lying on its side, basically became a huge pit). The trick behind the fall is pretty simple, but well hidden with the clues and a good example of Kitayama's focus on physical tricks.

Mystery-wise, I found Orgellienne more interesting in the way it explored multiple/false solutions: Kitayama has the various characters fire various theories and solutions at each other, resulting in a rather exciting story, as everyone has very different reasons for wanting to wrap up the case quickly, but they all come up with reasonably convincing theories and it keeps the reader guessing whether they themselves are on the right track or not. Interestingly, Karte isn't really used as a straight rival detective in this book: while he's younger than Eno, he knows Eno's gone a bit soft as a censor, and Karte definitely works more ruthlessly, but at the same time, he's also content at allowing things to develop on their own and see where it gets him, and he doesn't feel as much as a rival, rather than someone who may have conflicting goals, but can end up on either side depending on his mood and how he wishes to accomplish his goals in the end.

Orgellienne is not exactly the book I'd immediately think of when I think of Kitayama's work: while it does feature Kitayama's trademark locked room murders and physical trickery behind them, the actual tricks themselves are relatively tame, in comparison to his other work. The fantasy-like world he depicts here is perhaps the best I've seen in his work though, with a young boy in look for detective fiction, because it's been banished from this world, and a mysterious house full of music boxes with a romantic, but tragic background story. The series is only two volumes long at the moment, so it's likely I'll read the first one too in the future.

Original Japanese title(s): 北山猛邦『オルゴーリェンヌ』

The Mystery of the Flying Express

“Trains are relentless things, aren't they, Monsieur Poirot? People are murdered and die, but they go on just the same. I am talking nonsense, but you know what I mean."

"The Mystery of the Blue Train"

My version of this book had the first cover, but I had to post that second cover too because it's just too... memorable.

It is a November morning in the lobby of Hotel Soukai in the hot spring town of Wakura on the Noto Peninsula, when a tour guide notices one of her travellers hasn't shown up yet for their upcoming bus trip. She has the front desk call to Mitsubayashi Masase in room 711, but there's no answer, so they go up to wake the woman, who's registered as a housewife living in Yokohama. The bellboy opens the door with the master key, only to find Masae lying dead on the floor. Police investigation soon seems to settle the matter as a suicide: Masae died of consuming cyanide, but the hotel room key was lying besides her in the room, and the master key is kept safe by the manager at all times. There's also a magazine lying on the table, with a passage underlined which seemed to indicate the motive for suicide: a bad marriage. The participants of this tour all arrived on their own at the hotel yesterday, and while most of them had dinner together as arranged by the tour, Masae had chosen to have dinner herself, and it seems like she committed suicide that evening, without ever sleeping in her bed. The police also soon learn she indeed had a very bad marriage with a husband who had been openly cheating on her for years with the same partner and they are very surprised to learn the man won't even travel from Yokohama to Wakura to identify his wife's corpse, stating he's busy with renovating his shop. Instead, Masae's uncle comes, who says he is hardly surprised by Masae's husband's behavior, and he even accuses him of murder, while Masae's half-brother confirms her sister's marriage was dead, though he seems to agree it was a suicide. While the police seems content to wrap things up, news reporter Tanida, head of a kisha club, smells a potential scoop, so he calls his friend Uragami Shinsuke, a freelance reporter and tells him about the death of the beautiful Masae, and how she was found dead in a locked room and how it perhaps could be murder. Uragami takes the job, and together with Miho, a student he helped a while back and has now become a part-timer at the magazine he writes for, the two start digging in the case, but the more they learn, the more impenetrable the locked room, and the alibi of their main suspect is. Is it really suicide, or are they being fooled by an ingenious alibi trick in Tsumura Shuusuke's Noto no Misshitsu - Kanazawa Hatsu 15ji 45pun no Shisha ("The Locked Room in Noto - The Dead Leaving Kanazawa at 15:45", 1992).

Tsumura Shuusuke was a writer who for twenty years long, worked on  The Black Report, a long-running series which fictionalizes real-life incidents. In 1982, he became a novelist with the recommendation of Ayukawa Tetsuya, and two years later, he wrote his first novel starring the freelance investigative journalist Uragami Shinsuke. I had never read any of his works, but he was fairly prolific, writing about four novels each year until he passed away in 2000 and his work has actually been adapted for television too. I myself first heard about this book via Ooyama Seiichirou's Twitter account, who was quite positive about the work. Based on the style of his book titles and Noto no Misshitsu, it's clear he writes in the travel mystery modus: mysteries set in touristic destinations, and often featuring alibi tricks using trains and other modes of transport. 

 

By the way, I do always have a fondness for diagrams in mystery novels that are clearly hand-drawn. Like sure, diagrams drawn on the computer look slick and are often very clear, but there's a charm hand-drawn floorplans have...

Plot-wise, Noto no Misshitsu is pretty much nothing more or less than you'd expect of a mystery novel featuring a train-based alibi trick, and in that sense, it's hardly a surprising book, but I do have to admit I really liked how the book provides a reason why the detective (Uragami) would start to have doubts about what is on the surface a perfect alibi. Early in the book, it is established that if this was a murder, there are three suspects. Masae's father recently passed away and most of his fortune will go to her. The first suspect is Masae's husband, who is cheating on her and owed his father-in-law money, so now his own wife who might be leaving him, the second is Masae's half-brother, who had swindled a company before and supposedly lives a better life now, but still with money borrowed from his father, and Masae's uncle, who also borrowed money. All three of them seem to have pretty solid alibis, so why would the police, without any real cause, suspect their alibis are fake? I remember how in the film edition of Ten to Sen, the way the police detective suddenly decides to suspect someone who just showed he had a perfect alibi was absolutely hilarious because how forced it was (+ the acting was very stilted), but in Noto no Misshitsu, there's a pretty good justification: Uragami is looking for a scoop, so yeah, he hopes Masae was killed in a locked room and the murderer came up with some brilliant alibi trick, because that's what will sell: he has no guarantees it's actually true, but it does give him a reason to try and dig deeper into everyone's stories than the police would. It's a bit silly of course, but it strangely works.

It doesn't take long for Uragami and Miho to start having doubts about the suspect who claimed he was on board the Twilight Express, travelling from Osaka all the way to Sapporo. I usually try to avoid spoiling too much about a book, but the book literally opens with a time schedule for the Twilight Express and a map of Japan showing which stations it stops at, so at this point, even the book itself doesn't pretend like the other two suspects are viable suspects: yes, we are going to focus on that one suspect who was in the Twilight Express. The man was seen during four different times throughout the trip starting late afternoon until the following morning, from when he got on the train, to during dinner and at arrival, so that seems to prove he was there all the time. Meanwhile, Masae was killed in the early evening in Wakura, and while the Twilight Express does go in the general direction of Wakura, it does not pass the town, making it impossible for that suspect on the Twilight Express to kill her. And then there's of course the locked room, which makes it not only impossible for that particular suspect, but for anyone in general.

The locked room mystery by the way, is not something to really write home about: while the precise set-up of how it was done is interesting in terms of Tsumura actually clewed it, the trick itself is rather trite, and one of those ideas you could imagine someone who'd never even heard of a locked room mystery to come up with. So while the "locked room" is part of the book's title, don't expect much of it. 

As a story focusing on someone with a perfect alibi by being inside a gigantic moving steel box however, Noto no Misshitsu is far more interesting. Mind you, the fundamental idea behind how the murderer managed to create this perfect alibi, while at the same time also committing a murder elsewhere, might not be very surprising: once you know this is an alibi story revolving around a train, it's likely you'll have some idea how it was done. But what Tsumura does do extremely well is... covering his tracks. Like, the basic trick is, on paper at least, very simple, but Tsumura then makes sure the trick actually works by adding little tricks on top of that to hide the main alibi trick, and while it wouldn't be special if it had been only one thing, Tsumura does this so extensively, it actually helps make the main alibi trick really feel like an impenetrable wall. Uragami starts attacking the alibi pretty early on in the book, but each time what appears to be a weak point in the plan, turns out to be covered with a line of defense by the murderer, and it slowly, but surely makes you believe perhaps he's really innocent. While I'm not a huge fan of the main, connecting element that allowed the murderer to create so many walls of defense (it demands a lot of moving parts for this plot work!), I do like how thorough Tsumura was with plotting this perfect alibi: you really can't be sure it's over until it's over, for each time the murderer conjures up a new bunny from his hat. In this regard, you can see how Tsumura had been writing these novels for about a decade by then, so it's a very competently constructed puzzle.

I wouldn't call Noto no Misshitsu - Kanazawa Hatsu 15ji 45pun no Shisha a particularly remarkable example of a mystery novel with an alibi trick, but it is competently plotted and a pretty solid read on its own. It's definitely written by someone who has a lot experience penning such novels relying on train time tables, and I do enjoy reading them once in a while, so I might read more by Tsumura in the future too.

Original Japanese title(s): 津村秀介『能登の密室　金沢発１５時５４分の死者』

To Wake the Dead

Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin' 

And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive

"Stayin' Alive" (Bee Gees)

It would have been cool if an iron fan had been used as a murder weapon...

Disclosure: I have translated Arisugawa Alice's The Moai Island Puzzle.

A young teacher is strolling down the beach one morning, when she happens to come across a young man who seems a bit... lost. As she talks with him, she learns the man suffers from acute amnesia: he has no idea who he is, and why he is here at the beach. He has no wallet or any form of identification on him, only carrying a beautiful Japanese fan. The woman immediately notifies the hospital and the police, who start looking into the man's origin. The man turns out to be a gifted artist, skilled at drawing portraits, which of course immediately reminds of the Piano Man. Eventually, the police manage to identify the man: he is Takemitsu Souichi, the youngest son of Takemitsu Housen, a famous artist specializing in Japanese paintings. His father has already passed away, leaving his mother and three siblings, as well as his uncle and aunt. However, Souichi left his home over six years ago and has not been in contact with his family since, and therefore his family is just as surprised to learn he finally resurfaced, but with no memories of his past life. Souichi is taken back to his home, The Genbu House, located in Takaragaike, Kyoto, a Japanese manor which is neighbored by his uncle and aunt. His family, who haven't seen him in over six years, are not sure how to react to his amnesia: his sister for example seems to think the "new" Souichi has a far better, more assertive attitude than the Souichi she knew, while his brother misses "his" Souichi, and his mother seems reluctant to push Souichi too much into trying to retrieve his memories. It is during this time, a murder occurs at the house: Morisawa Yukie, an art merchant who has known the family for many years had visited the house and left, but the next morning, her dead body was found in the annex in the garden where Souichi lived. Souichi himself has disappeared too, as has the Japanese fan, but oddly enough, the annex was locked from the inside when the victim was found, and Souichi's keys are also found inside the house. So how did the murderer kill the merchant in a locked annex, and escape, and where is Souichi? Criminologist Himura is asked for assistance by the police, and he of course brings his good friend Arisugawa Alice along, who has been asked by his editor to write the book The Japanese Fan Mystery.... in Arisugawa Alice's Nihon Ougi no Nazo ("The Japanese Fan Mystery", 2024).

The latest entry in the Himura & Alice series (AKA the Writer Alice series) has an interesting title: when Ellery Queen's The Door Between was first announced to serialize in Cosmopolitan, it somehow was reported in Japan that the story would be titled The Japanese Fan Mystery, and it is a title that has always stuck with Japanese mystery fandom, even though it was not true and there is of course no such Ellery Queen novel. This story starts with Alice being asked by his editor to write a story with that title, and gives him a lot of reference materials on fans, and we first see Alice struggle with all kinds of ideas that involve fans, like locked room murder tricks that use fans. And none of them are really good, to be honest, though that's the joke of course. The actual story is connected to fans because Souichi had a beautifully illustrated Japanese fan in his possession when he was found, earning him the John Doe name "Mr Fan" for a while, but it is a bit of a shame the actual object isn't really "used" in the mystery plot.

The mystery thus revolves around a murder in a locked annex, as well as the mystery of Souichi's disappearance, and the question of why he had lost his memories and what he had been up to in the last six years or so since he ran away from home. That said, it should perhaps be noted that unlike the very mystery-plot-focused books in the Student Alice series (disclosure: I translated The Moai Island Puzzle), the Himura and Alice series usually have more room to be a bit more character-introspective,  and that is certainly noticable in this book, where a major portion of the book is dedicated to hearing the thoughts of all the family members and other related people on Souichi, both how he was as a child to how they think they should approach Souichi now he has lost his memories, and their views on how to move forward into the future. Personally, I have to admit I found the book to be moving a bit too slow, but Nihon Ougi no Nazo will probably entertain people who are into the human drama aspect of someone suddenly disappearing for years, and then coming back as a different man. Some parts are great in characterization, while mystery-wise, you could easily just not have them, and still have the mystery work. I know I am slightly more extreme when it comes to 'minimalist puzzle' mystery fiction, so I assume other readers will find these segments far more interesting (and I wouldn't even say I found them dull, just a bit long).

When the story returns its focus to the questions of who committed the murder in the locked annex, and where Souichi has gone off to now, we are treated to some great deduction scenes we have come to expect from Arisugawa. Interestingly enough, Himura himself does say that while he usually goes for truth borne from the logical inferences based on the evidence, this time we have Himura almost turning things around, coming up with a theory that can be supported by the evidence they have, but which ultimately is difficult to stand indepedently as logical proof, because so much of the background of the case is left in the dark. That said, the way Himura logically shows who the murderer is, is really good. Unlike a really cool locked room murder trick, it's kinda hard to explain "clever" lines of deduction and what makes them so good, but I really like the one here: Himura pushes his deductions to answer a question which seems very trivial at first, but the logical implications of this conclusion allow him to determine who the killer is, and it's this jump from what seems like an inconsequential deduction, to suddenly solving the whole case, is great. Nothing beats the one deduction line from The Moai Island Puzzle, of course (that one is... unbeatable perhaps...), but if you like that one, you're sure to like what Arisugawa does in this one too, though the set-up is far simpler (just a disappearance + one murder). Oh, and don't expect too much of the locked room murder, as always in these Queenian stories, it's more the why that is used in clever ways than the actual how. There is a hidden tragedy that is unveiled as Himura explains how and why the murder was committed, and it is here Arisugawa does a great job at connecting the 'story' of Souichi and his family to the core mystery plot, presenting a sad, ironic tale of death that was lurking beneath the surface.

This story was serialized in Mephisto starting in 2023, so some time has passed since the height of the pandemic, and Arisugawa (the author) does bring it up quite a few times as the story progresses, with little comments how not long ago, they couldn't even just go out to eat normally and things like that. It's interesting how references like these really "date" the Himura & Alice series, and like The Simpsons, shows that these characters (and their surroundings) are "timeless", as they haven't really aged since the first book (46 Banme no Misshitsu) and that came out in 1992 and now they survived the pandemic! Interestingly enough, Nihon Ougi no Nazo is actually touted as the book written to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the series (how many modern mystery series do you know that have been running for so long?!), though its serialization started a bit late. But that is also why this book was released in two versions, one regular pocket, as well as a luxurious hardcover.

I happened to have re-read the first novel a while back, so that made the changes in Arisugawa's style in over thirty years rather obvious, but as a whole novel, Nihon Ougi no Nazo is a far more complete work, with a dramatic tale about a young man who lost his memories, and his family coping with that realization, with a locked room murder mystery forcing everyone to readjust once again. The core mystery, while limited in scope, offers Arisugawa to show off once again how great he is at impressive lines of deduction that start out from seemingly innocent clues but then are nurtured into brilliant logical proofs that point beyond any doubt towards one culprit, but it does take a long while to get there.

Original Japanese title(s): 有栖川有栖『日本扇の謎』