Saturday, February 1, 2020

Greed

いまから嘘をつくよ
たった一度の君へ嘘
『君への嘘』(Valshe) 

"I am going to lie now
My one and only lie I will tell you"
"My lie to you" (Valshe)

About a month ago, I repeated the intention to write something about Liar Game, something I'd said for years. I was not lying.

Liar Game is a manga series by Kaitani Shinobu, which was serialized between 2005-2015 and which also acted as the original source material for a Japanese live action franchise spanning two television series and two theatrical films, as well as a Korean live-action series. I name-drop the series occasionally here, and the last time I did that, it was in my post on what I think a "mystery" can be in mystery fiction. For in my opinion, Liar Game is a prime example of how a mystery plot does not need to be about crime, locked room murders, ingenious alibi tricks or anything remotely close to what most people would usually associate with the mystery genre. It shows exactly how immensely diverse a mystery plot can be, and how the usual dynamics associated with a mystery or detective show can change completely by broadening one's views of what a mystery plot entails, without letting go of core concepts like clewing, fair play and a logical build-up and pay-off.

The series is about the Liar Game Tournament, an underground tournament that revolves around big money. Players are provided with 100 million yen at the start of the game, and each stage introduces a new game where more money can be earned or lost. However, participants are also strongly encouraged to cheat, lie and betray to obtain money from other contestants. Losers of a round are disqualified, and burdened with a debt proportional to their losses, which usually means nothing but complete despair (and if you can't pay, the Liar Game Tournament organization will find ways to get their money from you). At the start of the series, Nao, a gentle, but very gullible student, is duped into becoming a participant in the game. She's immediately swindled out of her starting money, so she seeks help from Akiyama Shinichi, a brilliant psychology student and evenly gifted con man. Together they manage to retrieve Nao's money and survive the first round of the Liar Game Tournament. They advance through each round thanks to Akiyama's brilliant strategies and sometimes despite, and sometimes thanks to Nao's natural gift to believe in the good of other people.


It's the variety in games that really makes Liar Game shine as a very diverse mystery series, providing an ever-changing battlefield that allows new mysteries and questions to pop up all the time. While the games can be very different in each stage, they usually revolve around the common theme of trust and betrayal, and the Prisoner's Dilemma. If all contestants in a game would cooperate and trust each other, everyone would be able to get away debtless at the least, and perhaps even earn modest earnings. The problem is that these games are designed in a way so betrayal will always pay off more to the individual traitor and not surprisingly, each of the games end up with everyone trying with minimalizing loss and maximalizing their winnings. It's this framework of original games each with their own specific rules and setting combined with the colorful cast of participants who can choose to trust or betray each other at any moment, which makes Liar Game one of the most entertaining and engrossing works of mystery fiction I've ever consumed.


Each of the games brings a new dynamic because of the unique goals and rules, and while some games are played by the contestants individually, other games are played in teams, which can lead to uneasy alliances. While these games appear at first sight to revolve around an element of chance and bluffing, there are ways in which to 'rig' the game to always win. Each games has clearly defined rules, and often involve elaborate props to play the game (the game Russian Roulette has a special 24-shot revolver for example). It's up to the players to figure out how within the confines of the rules, they can make sure they won't lose the game, and quite surprisingly, this can be done in a lot of ways: from finding loopholes in the rules to making clever use of the props provided for the game to even cooperating (and betraying) on-the-fly alliances with fellow participants. Ultimately, each stage of the Liar Game Tournament ends up being a true mystery story, with proper clewing and a logical build-up to the solution. The solution to what exactly, you may ask. Usually, each stage ends up being a howdunit, whodunit, or both. Because there are ways to 'cheat' through each game, there's always the question of how a game can be manipulated under the eyes of all the other participants and within the framework of the specific game (the Liar Game Tournament referees will throw out anyone who goes against the explicitly stated rules). Sometimes it's an opponent who is mysteriously able to see the moves of the other participants, sometimes it's one of the protagonists who miraculously turns the game completely around even though they were about to lose the whole thing. The question of how the game can be rigged (howdunit) is sometimes combined with the whodunit, as in certain games, contestants aren't able to see exactly the actions of the others, and some people might be betraying others through secret team-ups or manipulating the game in other ways to raise their own earnings and force others to lose the round. At any rate, one will be surprised how despite its appearances, Liar Game is a really well-executed fair-play puzzle plot mystery.

One of the earliest games featured in the series for example is Minority Rule: all the contestants are asked to vote yes or no a statement, and the participants who voted for the majority are disqualified. It becomes clear right away that it's not about answering truthfully to the statement (for example "I am female"), but in what way can the protagonists make sure they will always vote for the minority statement? Another prime example of how a 'simple' game can turn into a brilliant mystery tale is Contraband, where two teams try to smuggle money from the enemy country to a safe place over multiple rounds. At "customs" the enemy state has to guess whether the person passing trough is really carrying money with them or not, and false accusations are penalized with a money fine. At first, this game seems to be merely a game of guessing and bluffing and not a stage set for a fair-play mystery, but as the game continues, it's revealed that there's definitely room to force an outcome within the framework, making it a proper mystery plot.

I recently rewatched the 2010 film Liar Game: The Final Stage, which I had seen in the theatres when it was originally released. This film was the original ending to the two television series before it (2007's first season and 2009's second season) and was followed by the 2012 sequel film Liar Game: Reborn. My own first encounter with Liar Game was through the live-action television series, and while I did try out the manga at a later point, I always thought the live-action series was more entertaining, so I loved watching the finale to the original series in the theatre. I also think Liar Game: The Final Stage is an excellent mystery film, which really showcases how one can build a whole movie with many twists and turns and ever-changing dynamics around one well-designed game As the title of the film suggests, Liar Game: The Final Stage is about the finale in the Liar Game Tournament, so it's best watched after viewing the first two seasons. Over the course of the two television series, Nao and Akiyama managed to proceed through each round to arrive at the final game in this movie, where they are joined by some new faces, but also reunited with familiar characters from earlier stages. The game these final elevent contestants play is titled The Garden of Eden. In the Garden of Eden exist three types of apples: golden, silver and red apples. In each of the thirteen rounds, each player must pick one of these apples. If all eleven contestants pick red apples, all earn 100 million yen each that round. But if even only one participant choses either a golden or silver apple, only they will earn money while all the contestants with red apples are penalized. There are further rules that encourage not picking red apples, but also to not vote as a whole group on either the golden or silver apples. In the end, everyone picking red apples would be the safest bet, but of course, there are more than a few people in this final stage who are willing to betray the others to make more money. The results of each round are also announced anonymously, so it's impossible to tell who won or who lost each time. Can Nao and Akiyama still manage to win this game and save everyone from debt despite the presence of the traitor "X" who is lurking among the contestants?


I think that The Final Stage shows exactly what makes the series so great within the confines of one single film. While the whole story revolves around one single game, of which all the rules are explained at the very start, The Final Stage never becomes boring over the course of the two-hours-and-some runtime. Each time, a new betrayer pops up, but Akiyama not only always manages to figure out who this is, it's always properly clewed. The mystery plot is highly dynamic, because you're not only looking at "one culprit" in this film: sometimes it's Akiyama himself who has set a trap to capture a traitor, sometimes the focus is on how the traitor managed to manipulate the results of a certain round. Each time, you think all the loopholes of the Garden of Eden game have been found, but then another new, unexpected event occurs, and it's absolutely thrilling to see how the earnings and losses of each contestant change as the game approaches the final thirteenth round and the contestants keep on deceiving each other. By transforming the type of mystery constantly over the course of the film, Liar Game: The Final Stage manages to avoid a common hurdle for mystery films: becoming boring midway. The process of mystery-to-solution is repeated several times in this film and they're all about different problems, so you're never bored. In a way, it's a bit like how Columbo always picks up little mysteries on the way, before he arrives at his final problem.


What is also impressive is that ultimately, this is a fair-play mystery film. Akiyama sets several traps to find out who is betraying the group, and each time, the viewer is shown the clues that build up to how Akiyama set up his traps and how that allowed him to pin-point the traitors. Likewise, the movie also shows how each of the traitors managed to manipulate the game to their own benefit, and of course, these moments are also properly clewed. What's interesting is that everything all happens within the confines of the rules as shown at the very start of the film: it's not like the dynamics change because rules are changed or new rules are added: the game as designed simply offers this much room for a great mystery movie. Nothing in Liar Game is like what you'd normally expect of a "mystery film", and yet few mystery films will  actually be as satisfying as Liar Game: The Final Stage. Rewatching the film really made me see how it is really a fairly set-up story.

Anyway, enough fanboying about Liar Game. I can only repeat myself again and say it's a must-see for mystery fans and those who want to see how much potential the mystery genre really has. People who know series like Death Note or Spiral - The Bonds of Reasoning will know the potential of mystery tales revolving around games with clearly defined rules and battles of wits, and fans of either series should definitely check out Liar Game. I believe the first two seasons are available for (free!) streaming at Crunchyroll, and both are excellent (do watch them in order though).

Original Japanese title(s): 『ライアーゲーム ザ・ファイナルステージ』

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

The Secret Lost at Sea

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know.
"Oh, The Places You'll Go!"

Ashibe Taku loves his classic mystery fiction and often writes pastiches of classic detectives and other stories strongly inspired by them. His two-volume series The Exhibition of Great Detectives for example was a collection of entertaining pastiches which had familiar fictional detectives like Lupin and Holmes, or Charlie Chan and Sam Spade team up in criminal crossovers. What Ashibe also showcased in these stories is not only his immense knowledge of the fictional characters and their respective universes, but also of the real-life publication history. A major characteristic of Ashibe's writing is the never-ending stream of literary references and references to all kinds of trivia regarding how these stories were actually created, sometimes even to a fault as occasionally when there's a bit too much trivia.

The famous fictional detectives Akechi Kogorou (by Edogawa Rampo) and Kindaichi Kousuke (by Yokomizo Seishi) have of course also been used multiple times by Ashibe in his pastiches and he even had them team-up more than once. In those stories, the two famous detectives met while working on the same case, but Ashibe Taku has a more interesting concept prepared in Kindaichi Kousuke, Panorama-tou he Iku ("Kindaichi Kousuke Goes To Panorama Island", 2016). This book collects two novellas in which the two detectives visit locales where the other detective famously solved one of their iconic cases: one of Edogawa Rampo's more imaginative novellas is Panorama-tou Kitan ("The Strange Tale of Panorama Island"), while Gokumontou ("Prison Gate/Gokumon Island") is one of the best-known Kindaichi Kousuke novels. In this book, the always shabbily-clad Kindaichi visits Panorama Island many years after the incident that made it famous, while in the meantime, the gentleman-detective Akechi Kogorou, his wife Fumiyo and the boy detective Kobayashi Yoshio travel to the once horrifying island of Gokumon.

Let me start with saying right away that this is a book for the fans. If you haven't read the original stories and preferably even more adventures starring the respective two detectives, there's probably too little to genuinely enjoy within the pages of these two stories. Ashibe goes full-out fanboy with his references to both series, and sometimes (or even often), the trivia will only appeal to the knowledgable fan. We're talking about references about the release years of stories, or how certain stories were only serialized and never released as books and talk about the appearances of characters that only appeared on one single novel. I was familiar with both the original stories and many other sotires in both fictional universes, but some of these references are really nitpicky (in a good way, I guess). A fan will surely grin while reading this, but for someone who has never touched any of these stories,  Kindaichi Kousuke, Panorama-tou he Iku will be hard to follow, especially as the core mystery plot of both stories do touch upon the details of the original work. Of course, pastiches always rely on references, but I think in this case the core mystery plots aren't really entertaining if you go in completely blank.

The first story is the titular Kindaichi Kousuke, Panorama-tou he Iku ("Kindaichi Kousuke Goes To Panorama Island"), which has Kindaichi's old friend Kazama buy up the now defunct Panorama Island. In the original story, this island was rebuilt to be a (fake) paradise on Earth, being a gigantic, island-sized panorama rotunda that not only showed the wonders of the world as a panorama, it also offered all the pleasures of the human world to its king. After the conclusion of the original story, the island was abandoned and allowed to fall apart, until Kazama (a contractor) decided to buy the island and turn it into an entertainment park. Kazama invites Kindaichi along to view the place, knowing his professional interest in the location. After their visit, they return to the mainland and stay in an inn in a bay across the island. That night, Kindaichi is haunted by a nightmare, which seems to have come true: workers of Kazama had gone to the island that morning and discovered a corpse there, whose face had been destroyed completely. The man had been murdered in the night and been left on top of some minature buildings (a panorama works with perspective, so objects in the back are made as scale miniatures). The island is hardly accessible though, and Kazama and Kindaichi had not seen the body during their inspection the day before, so how did that body end up on Panorama Island and why in the first place? It's interesting to see how Ashibe imagined the aftermath of the original story (loads of references to the characters of the original story) and ultimately, the core mystery is actually neatly connected to the original Panorama Island story. The core mystery plot isn't really that complex and the story could easily have been half the length if it wasn't imbedded in this pastiche form, but on the other hand, this trick is one that worked because it was set in such a unique place. It's a funny story for people that know the original tale, though I think it is arguable whether this story needed Kindaichi to be the detective (though there is a reason).

This story is followed time-wise immediately by Akechi Kogorou, Gokumontou he Iku ("Akechi Kogorou Goes To Gokumon Island"), where Akechi Kogorou, his wife and the boy detective Kobayashi visit Gokumon Island, one of the first big cases Kindaichi solved right after he returned from fighting in World War II. Akechi is quite interested in seeing the small island community some years after Kindaichi famously solved the "Gorgon Sisters Murder Case" and meets with a lot of people he already knew from the novel by Y (Yokomizo Seishi) based on the events. As the famous detective and his entourage are being led around the island though, the reader is made aware not all is as it seems though, and it seems Akechi is planning to pull something off on this island, but what? Similar to the Rampo stories, we follow an Akechi who is aware of a lot more facts than the reader, and it's seeing the mysterious events work towards a finale orchestrated by Akechi that makes up most of the fun of this story. It's not really fair because Akechi basically already knows what's up from the early stages of the story on, and the reader is just left wondering why this or that is happening. This story too builds on the aftermath of the original story as imagined by Ashibe, but both the scale and the type of mystery is so different from the original story that it kinda misses the mark: the first story was much better in really feeling like the mystery plot built on specific details of the original story. The real-world references are also incredibly detailed and nitpicky here (and even somewhat confusing as it mixes real and in-universe chronology) and in the end, this story really feels like one for the fans.

Obviously, Kindaichi Kousuke, Panorama-tou he Iku is not going to be an universal recommendation. It's playing up to a very specific target group and there's little to appeal to people outside of that group, as the two stories here don't work well as standalone mystery stories. As someone who does know both stories, and the extended series of both Akechi Kogorou and Kindaichi Kousuke, I did have fun seeing familiar locales and characters, but seen from the point of view of another great detective. The concept is pretty fun, with these characters visiting the places from the stories of the other character, but the result is really only reserved for a small group of readers. You will know of yourself whether you're interested in this story collection or not.

Original Japanese title(s): 芦辺拓『金田一、パノラマ島へ行く』:「金田一、パノラマ島へ行く」/「明智小五郎、獄門島へ行く」

Friday, January 24, 2020

Question! Answer!

Detective fiction is all about questions. Whodunit? Howdunit? Whydunit? Why-is-this-considered-detective-fiction-it's-nothing-like-oooooooh-now-I-get-it. There has to be some kind of mystery, an alluring question waiting to be answered, an answer which the tale should provide at the end of the story. Like I wrote in a post a few weeks ago, a mystery can take on many forms: from the conventional murder to the question of how an impossible crime was committed, to the more mundane question of why some person is always changing coins into money bills at the store. But to me, the genre will ultimately always revolve around the underlying mystery of a story and its solution, as well as the process from said question to answer.


I've been writing my messy thoughts about the mystery fiction I consume for about ten years at this spot, and I think that on the whole, I've remained fairly consistent in terms of what I like to focus on in my posts when discussing a work. What I personally enjoy best about detective fiction, is the core mystery plot, and the logical processes that lead to its solution, so obviously, I tend to write about how I experienced the work from that point of view. Of course, it's not like I therefore refuse to write about other subjects: depending on the work, I also enjoy writing about publication history (like in my review of Rampo's Yuureitou) or about the socio-economic and/or cultural elements in a certain work, like the role of modern consumer technology in my review of Nimannin no Mokugekisha or folklorism themes in the Toujou Genya series. But in the end, I only talk about those topics because they relate back to the core mystery plot, and my final thoughts about a certain work will rely far more on what I thought of the presentation of the mystery, the path towards the solution and the execution of the whole puzzle, than how the specific work incorporated the theme of say the rise of streaming services in the mid 2010s in its plot, or how well the characters were portrayed. Some people will for example be looking for believable portrayals of characters and immersive atmosphere in their mystery fiction, and obviously, those would be topics of interest to them which they'd want to see addressed in a review, but yeah, this wouldn't be the place. A detective novel could have the most utterly unbelievable characters ever and I wouldn't even make one note of it, if said portrayal was also helping a core puzzle plot rise to amazing heights.


A review should be a coherent body of text that lays out the author's thoughts on a certain work and at least for me, I try to do that by putting the work in context. With context, I mean my own personal experience up until that point: all the other works I've read/seen/listened to/etc. up until that point, all the things I know about the various topics addressed in said work etc. It's basically comparing a work to everything I have seen before, not in a 'which is better' way, but to see how the various works do things the same or differently, and trying to identify what common themes work or don't work, and why. Some people might prefer to view a work standalone, without actively comparing it with other works, but I find that hard to do, especially in a genre that is explicitly built upon the shoulders of those before. It's the same with videogames for me, where for example you can easily compare game mechanics and perhaps say the idea of using one single A button as the Jump button like in Super Mario Bros. is better than having to push seven buttons in a very specific order before a character will jump. In a genre where we see the same tropes over and over again, it'd be weird not to compare them, and see what works (and to go a step further, to identify the underlying factor that indeed makes it so enjoyable).

But to finally come to my main point for this post: it's actually such a contradiction that while I do try to contextualize a work in a review and point out what works and what doesn't, I also go lengths to not spoil anything to the reader and thus not explicitly contextualizing the work. For yes, I wanted to write something about the topic of spoilers. Given that detective fiction is about questions, giving the answers beforehand would obviously be spoiling the game. Therefore, I do try to avoid spoiling anything in my reviews, as I certainly don't want to ruin the reading experience of anyone. I certainly wouldn't want to know who the murderer was or how it was done before I start reading a story, so I'm not spoiling it for someone else either. But that does making the contextualization process difficult at times. At one hand, I want to compare the main trick of novel A to similar ideas seen in novel B, C and D, and note how they compare and differ, but I also want to avoid spoilers, so I end up writing very vaguely about the tricks and solutions of a novel, and make non-specific allusions to other works, because obviously, explicitly stating that novel A has the same trick as novel B would be spoiling both works.
 

But as everyone knows, spoilers are never a clear-cut case. What I consider a spoiler, someone else may not and vice-versa. Would saying there are more murders than one in a certain novel be a spoiler or not? Would mentioning the fact that the topic of snail breeding is addressed in the story be a spoiler? Would noting that a novel contains multiple false solutions be a spoiler? It's never a definite yes/no answer, and there are also times where I myself am not sure whether I should mention something or not. I wrote a review of a very well-received novel for example, where I explictly mention and talk in-depth about a story element that the publisher and many others do seem to be avoiding, but I thought, and I still think, that it's necessary to discuss that story element because a) it's too important to not too and b) I think more people would become interested in the novel knowing this story element beforehand, rather than not being informed of it, which adds the risk of someone ignoring the novel even though they would've liked it if they had known about the "secret" story element.

Last year, I reviewed the manga Astro Lost in Space on the blog, which I really enjoyed as a mystery science-fiction series. Recently, a colleague reviewed the series too for a different kind of publication (not mystery-related), and it's written from an angle I would never have even considered. Mind you, I am certainly not saying it's a bad review: by addressing story points I myself would consider spoilers, she's also able to dive deeper in the work and discuss themes of the work I personally also find interesting (themes I could also relate to the mystery genre), but don't dare write about in fear of spoiling the reading experience of someone else. Obviously, she did not think that discussing those story elements would interfere with the enjoyment of the work. Everyone has different ideas about spoilers, but you can't 'undo' spoiling a suprise for someone, so in the end, I try to err on the safe side, because I don't like to be spoiled myself either. It's one thing to give someone a clear warning and choice if they want to be spoiled about something (spoiler warnings, writing the spoiler in code), but even here on this blog, I've seen commentators just throw spoilers about random stories in the comments without any warning. Which probably is a more extreme example of how everyone sees spoilers differently. But yeah, I'd really appreciate it if everyone would try to err on the safe side of the line.

I will just go on approaching spoilers the same way I've always done here, with short summaries that barely make it to the first murder/crime/mystery and vague allusions about similar concepts and tricks used etc. I guess that if I could do a review once in a while where I write openly about spoilers, but the problem there is that I'd probably be making references to a lot of other stories, so those would be spoiled too ("Novel A utilizes a trick that can also be seen in Novel B, but it's significant to note that in Novel A, the string was red, and not blue like in Novel B, for...."). So that would still be somewhat troublesome. There's no one solution to this, and ten years into writing about mystery fiction, I'm still not sure what goes and what doesn't.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

A Fairy in the Flat

まるで幽霊(ゴースト)煙のようにあっけなく
彼女いなくなっちまった 
「フェアリー(完全犯罪)」(甲斐バンド)

Like a ghost, gone up in smoke
She disappeared
"Fairy (The Perfect Crime)" (Kai Band)

Last year, I discussed several female manga authors who were especially active in the 70s and who helped shape the format of mystery manga. One of the biggest names mentioned was Hagio Moto: she may not have been strongly connected to the mystery manga genre in general, but in the history of Japanese comics, especially those geared towards female readers, there are none her equal. Hagio is considered one of the most influential female manga artists ever, being a pioneer in shojo (girls) manga, the Boys' Love genre and science-fiction manga in the 70s and 80s (see also post on 11-nin Iru!). It's no exaggeration to state that modern manga as an art form would've been different if not for Hagio's work. While it's especially her early works that created gigantic waves in the world of comics, she's still a force to be reckoned with. The last few years, she's been working on sequels to her quintessential work The Poe Clan, while she also lectures on manga both in Japan and abroad.

And the manga to be discussed today is of course also by her hand. I'll start right away with saying Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- ("The Perfect Crime -- Fairy--") is unlike any other comic I have read before and that while its merits as a mystery story are fairly modest, I do think it's a story worth mentioning at least. For this is the first time, and probably the last time, I'll read a murder mystery musical manga. I had no idea of this story's origins until after I had finished the main story (it was followed by interviews that put things in perspective), but being the experimental artist Hagio is, she decided late in the eighties to write a comic based on the music of rock artist Kai Yoshihiro and his Kai Band. She felt inspired by the lyric texts and the ambience of the music and asked for, and was granted permission for use of the lyrics for a comic directly inspired by her experience of Kai's music. The result is a musical manga: a comic where scenes are accompanied by the rock music of Kai in the form of lyrics, with dialogues and story development derived directly from the sung text. The title Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- in fact was also derived from the Kai Band, which has a number titled Fairy (Kanzen Hanzai), a song of course also featured in the story.

The story starts with a phone call by Kayako, the female star in the upcoming musical GOLD, to Kousuke's home, her co-player and rumored lover. Kousuke's not present, but Rui, a young talented dancer who's living with Kousuke temporarily answers the phone, only to hear Kayako declaring she's committing suicide and that she's cut her wrists. Familiar with her hysterics, Rui informs the authorities and rushes to Kayako's apartment himself, only to discover he's too late: Kayako's lying dead on the floor. Kazuto, a manager of the musical too arrives at the scene at the same time, as Kayako missed an important meeting. As they look shocked at Kayako's body, Rui realizes another person is in the apartment, but that person manages to escape. Kayako's suicide results in a small scandal involving Kousuke, who had been away from town for unknown reasons, and Kousuke is taken off GOLD, with Rui now becoming the new, upcoming debut star together with another actress. While Rui tries to focus on his new role, he can feel the police seems quite suspicious of his story about Kayako's phone call and the intruder whom only Rui saw (Kazuto didn't), and the fact Rui now got the lead role in the musical isn't helping impressions either. Meanwhile Rui is also getting close to a young dancer called Youko, but she too seems to be involved with Kayako's death in some way, and as the first night of GOLD approaches, Rui becomes more obsessed with learning the truth behind Kayako's demise.


This isn't the first time I've discussed mystery musicals on this blog: I have reviewed a few of the Takarazuka musicals based on the Gyakuten Saiban/Ace Attorney videogames. This is the first time I've discussed a piece of fiction which was conceived from the very start as a musical work however. In a medium lacking sound, ironically. As a comic work Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- is quite unique. While the characters within Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- don't actually sing the songs of Kai and the Kai Band, the lyrics of those tracks are definitely what forms the core of this comic. As an artist who pushed the comic format towards comics with literary qualities, Hagio shows how music and lyrics (poetry) can also serve as a source of direct inspiration for a tale and certain scenes. Naturally, the story focuses a lot on character interactions, putting a spotlight on Rui, Youko, Kazuto and Kousuke as they all deal with Kayako's death and their own relations in different ways, with the lyrics of Kai's music serving as the 'background music' for these scenes. Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- definitely feels like a musical, and it kinda puts some of her work in perspective for me: I recently read her 2016 comic The Poe Clan - Frühlingslied for example, which too was strongly inspired by a musical piece (the titular Frühlingslied by Shubert).


But this blog is mainly about mystery fiction, so how does Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- fare seen as such? As mentioned above, the focus of the story lies more on character interaction inspired by the lyrics of the many songs of Kai utilized, and as a result, there are long parts in the story where the mystery is pushed into the background. If you look at the core mystery plot itself, it's nothing particularly outstanding, something you'd imagine in one of Agatha Christie's minor short stories, where everybody is revealed to be hiding about something for some minor personal reason, and when all that's cleared up and you finally have possession of all the facts without the lies, it becomes clear who the real murderer must be. Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- can perhaps best be read as a thriller-type of story in that regards, as it does not attempt to present itself as a story where you as the reader can make an educated guess who the murderer is based on properly introduced clues. Unlike other mystery stories with music as a main theme, the actual music and lyrics from Kai Yoshihiro and the Kai Band aren't connected to the core mystery plot, so no fancy murders that are modeled after the lyrics or something like that!

So Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- is not a comic I would recommend for fans of mystery, even if it's interesting as a proper musical murder mystery. As an experiment in comicbook storytelling, Kanzen Hanzai -- Fairy -- might be worth a read. It's a fairly thrilling silent musical that, due to Hagio's characters and storytelling, is surprisingly captivating despite its weird concept. If only the comic itself came with the music, or even better, the whole thing was performed as a musical (animated or live-action). Anyway, this was more a 'hey, it might be funny to know this exists' type of story, but I'm always willing to see how the broader genre of mystery fiction can work in different kinds of medium.

Original Japanese title(s): 萩尾望都『完全犯罪 フェアリー』

Saturday, January 18, 2020

Shiver and Shake, That Demon's a Snake

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind
"Colors of the Wind" (from: Pocahontas)

The current (January 2020) opening sequence of the Detective Conan anime with WAND's Makka na Lip has some sweet animation, but why the dance? I thought we promised twenty years ago we wouldn't do openings of Conan dancing anymore... The episodes of today's review coincidentally feature the previous opening sequence with dancing: Conan doing parapara on Aiuchi Rina's Koi wa Thrill, Shock Suspense.

Sonoko's father of the Suzuki Financial Group isn't able to make it to a tea ceremony session of Aonogi Ryuuzou, so he asked Kogorou, Ran and Conan to go in his stead. Aonogi lives in a splendid traditional Japanese manor with a very large pond in the garden. In the middle of the pond stands a pavilion especially built for tea ceremonies. It is said that the shining sun will color the pond in five different brilliant colors throughout the day, which is why the tea room is given the name of the Five Colors. While chatting with the tea masters' disciples and son, Conan also learns of the legend of the Five Color Pond: in ancient times, a beautiful woman lived near the pond whose flute music could change the color of the pond. A merchant wished to marry her, and she agreed on one condition: the pond was to be hers, and nobody was to ever trespass. The merchant however immediately broke his promise, and had their bedroom built in the middle of the pond. When the couple argued, the merchant killed the woman, who turned out to be a demon snake living in the pond. The snake attacked the merchant, who fled inside the bedroom, which was protected by talismans. With the snake outsider however, he had no way of escape and eventually, he committed suicide.


History seems to be repeating itself however, as tea master Aonogi's wife was vehemently against building the tea pavilion in the pond, and she died soon after it was finished. Because of her death, Aonogi lives in fear inside the tea room, afraid that the legend of the demon snake may be real. Of course, it seems all of the people in the house seem to have some beef with the man, like his son who does not want to succeed his father but is basically forced too. In the end, it seems master Aonogi's fears are warranted, for at the end of the day, he is found hanging inside the tea room. As the tea room was locked from the inside, and Kogorou had been looking out at the connecting bridge from the main building all the time, it appears it could only have been suicide, but that's of course not the case in the Detective Conan anime original story Gosai Densetsu no Mizugoten ("The Water Palace of the Legend of the Five Colors").

Episodes 210-211 were originally broadcast on the 23rd and 30th of October 2000 and features a screenplay by Mochizuki Takeshi, who passed away in 2015. Mochizuki wrote a few episodes for Conan which all features murders in curious places (aboard a loop line train, during an underwater show and one inside a retro hotel room). This time, we have a locked room murder inside a tea room in the middle of a pond, a fairly alluring premise which perhaps also explains why this story also serves as Mochizuki's only two-parter, as it does need quite some time to set-up the backstory of the legend of the pond, showing how the tea pavilion, pond and main building lie relative to each other and of course have all the suspects act as suspiciously as possible.


The locked room problem is basically a double-layered conundrum. The master was hanged inside the tea room, but the small sliding door of the tea room was locked from the inside, making it a 'conventional' locked room. Secondly, Kogorou had been watching the pond for some time, and swears he saw nobody cross the one single connecting bridge from the garden to the tea pavilion, meaning the crime site itself acted like a locked room. Both sides of the problem can be solved relatively easily, though that is partially also because the clewing is done thoroughly. The way the murderer managed to evade being observed by Kogorou is incredibly simple (though easy to miss perhaps), but the way the chosen method also ties to the identity of the murderer is good. The solution to the problem of the locked tea room itself can be guessed pretty easily too, or at least I think many viewers will have a vague idea of what happened once a certain prop is introduced in the story. It's a prop that is quite strongly associated with a certain, famous Japanese mystery novel (not dropping the title here as it would spoil everything) and it is used in a similar manner here, but of course adapted for this specific scenario. But once you see the prop, you'll probably have some idea of what happened here, even if the specifics elude you. The exact manner in which the locked tea room is constructed may be a bit difficult to guess solely based on what you see on screen because man, there's a lot of little things the murderer did (putting things juuuust right) and it's a bit silly that an important piece of evidence is left intact at a certain spot, but overall, it's an okay locked room trick, though it feels a bit predictable, in the sense that it is exactly how most people will imagine a locked room murder mystery is.

Gosai Densetsu no Mizugoten may not be a must-see Detective Conan anime original like most of screenplay writer Ochi's output, but these two episodes do provide the type of story in terms of quality and depth like you'd usually expect from the original manga, so it's a pretty save watch if you're looking for some Detective Conan material you haven't watched yet.

Original Japanese title(s): 『名探偵コナン』210-211話「五彩伝説の水御殿」

Wednesday, January 15, 2020

The Secret of the Old Mill

‘We were thirteen. Some fellow failed at the last minute. We never noticed till just the end of dinner.’ 
"Lord Edgware Dies"

Thinking of tridecagons, I realized I can't even count anymore in (classical) Greek. Man, I studied the language for five years, and now it's mostly gone from my head... 

Ibaragi Kanki may seem like your regular elderly drunk roaming the red light district, but he's in fact a doctor who not only helps the women there with his medical knowledge, his keen mind is also appreciated by the local police force, as Kanki has solved many murder cases as an amateur detective. Kanki is enjoying an early evening with drinks, when the establishment is visited by a female high school student who obviously should not be roaming the red light district. Young Keiko's looking for the brothel Koiguruma, which is run by her mother's friend Kuramado Hatae. Keiko's mother, who is residing in a mental institution at the moment, asked her daughter to deliver a package to Hatae. As he knows where Koiguruma is, Kanki decides to escort the girl safely to her destination. Kurumada Hatae is a well-known figure in these parts, who is not only admired because of her looks, but also because of her sense for business and her heart for the women who work for her: Hatae runs several brothels in town, but she's adamant her girls never use drugs and is always happy whenever one of them manages to get married and escape this hopeless life. When Kanki and Keiko arrive at Koiguruma, they however make a gruesome discovery: body parts have been tied to the blades of the big neon-lighted windmill set to the front wall of the building! With the head as one of the parts, it's clear to all that the victim is indeed Kurumado Hatae. From the investigation it becomes clear that Hatae had gone though her usual daily routine today: each day she swung by all of her brothels to do accounting, with Koiguruma as her last stop. She arrived at Koiguruma early in the evening, and had seven visitors come to her room upstairs that night, some of them known by name and face, like her own husband and a narcotics detective, but also a few unknown visitors who hid their faces. The mystery in Yamada Fuutarou's Juusankaku Kankei ("Thirteen-Sided Connections", 1956) revolves around who of these seven visitors killed and cut-up a woman who was loved by all?

The volume I read included not only the novel Juusankaku Kankei, but also other short stories of which most, or perhaps all, star Ibaragi Kanki as the detective. This particular book is titled Yamada Fuutarou Mystery Kessakusen 2 - Juusankaku Kankei (Meitanteihen) ("Yamada Fuutarou Mystery Masterpieces 2 - Thirteen-Sided Connections - The Great Detective", 2001), but I am only reviewing the titular novel here, not the whole volume with the short stories.

Yamada Fuutarou was a prolific post-war writer, who nowadays is best known to the wider public for his many historical fantasy novels on ninja like Kouga Ninpou Chou ("The Kouga Ninja Scrolls"). His ninja stories where everyone had the most fanciful powers with technique names had a huge influence on not only the popular image of the ninja, but also popular culture in general. Series like Naruto and Bleach are basically direct descendants of Yamada's work. Yamada however started out as a mystery writer and was written some really enjoyable stories: Meiji Dantoudai ("The Meiji Guillotine") and  Youi Kinpeibai ("The Bewitching Plum in the Vase") for example were fantastic examples of the linked short story collection. I was looking forward to reading Juusankaku Kankei therefore, as it's one of his better known mystery novels.

But man, I had trouble getting through this novel! This book has been in my possession for some years now, and I had actually started reading Juusankaku Kankei already. But for some reason or another, it dropped back into the backlog pile, so when I picked it up again earlier this week (*at time of writing), I decided to start from the beginning again. As I read, I kinda recalled the parts I had read already of course, but it turned out I was already beyond the halfway point when I stopped reading this book the first time. Which usually isn't a good sign.

The biggest problem is of Juusankaku Kankei is that the first half of this novel is really boring. After a very good first chapter where Kanki and Keiko discover the cut-up body of Hatae, you're presented with like five chapters of interviews with witnesses and suspects about what happened that night, and about the seven visitors of Hatae. It becomes immensely repetitive very fast, as each person just states this and that about who came at what time for what reason and and what they thought of the victim and all of this takes up half of the length of the novel! In hindsight, I can also hardly say Yamada did something truly clever with looking at the chain of events of the evening from different angles, so this is a really difficult part to get through as it just goes on and on.

But what do you get if you do make it through? Well, the core mystery plot at first seems to focus on the problem of how the killer could've killed, cut-up Hatae and attached her body parts to the blades of the windmill outside the window given the time schedule of the seven visitors, but that part is surprisingly easy to guess. There is another murder later in the book, but too that's resolved by Kanki even before the reader gets any chance to think about the event. In the end, the focus of the story falls upon the very complex relations between the many characters of this novel. As the title of the book already suggests, a triangle relation is nothing to the lines and arrows you can draw between the characters in this novel. Each plot development seems to shake up the relational chart a bit, giving new motives to the suspects, and in that sense, I do like the way the murderer is slowly revealed to be at the center of things as you uncover new angles to the diagram. A character who at first is in the background, but comes closer and closer as the book nears the end. At the same time, because Juusankaku Kankei is so much about thinking about motives and the relationships between the characters, the puzzle element is slightly weak: Kanki's deduction at the end is little more than vague guesses about the who and why, and never do you get the feeling of 'Oh yeah, now that clue mentioned in that chapter makes sense' as there are few 'real' clues. I guess that other Yamada novels have that too in a sense: Taiyou Kokuten actually reads as a normal youth novel about a young student's love life until the very end when suddenly everything is turned around and you're told you were reading a mystery novel. But Juusankaku Kankei is about a murder investigation from the very start, and because of that, I'd have wanted a bit more tangible or satisfying clewing.

And now I mentioned Taiyou Kokuten, I can definitely recommend Yamada's mystery stories if you like the post-war Japan setting: most stories I read by him are set in the fifties, just as Japan recovered from the war and started to transit into the period of high economic growth. His focus is always on the less fortunate side of society, from poor students who have to do awful jobs to earn a living to the people in the red light districts and the like. No posh country houses here!

But no, Juusankaku Kankei is hardly my favorite Yamada mystery story. I guess the novel earned his reputation as one of Yamada's best works due to the characterisation and the complex way with which he positions the characters in regards to each other and how this relational twister is used to unveil the murderer, but it didn't really work for me personally, though I guess this is a Your Mileage May Vary thing.

Original Japanese title(s): 山田風太郎『十三角関係』

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

The Headless Lady

「探偵って、そういうものなんじゃないのかな?少なくとも僕はそう思っているよ。探偵とは、大多数の人間を納得させて、事件を終わらせる存在だよ」
『異世界の名探偵 1 首なし姫殺人事件』

"Isn't that exactly what a detective is though? A detective is someone who can convince the majority of the people and bring an end to a case"
 "The Great Detective of the Other World 1: The Case of the Headless Princess"

If you have been following anime these last few years, there's no way you could've avoided the word isekai. Literally, isekai means "a different world" but it is commonly used to refer to a certain subgenre in Japanese popular fiction. In an isekai series, the protagonist is usually a person from Earth who ends up in a different world (usually a fantasy world) by means of transportation, reincarnation or some other manner. The genre often involves some kind of power fantasy, with the very ordinary human using their memories/knowledge from Earth to their advantage in their new situation/the other world to become the legendary hero/evil overlord/whatever the story is about.The genre has parallels with classic literature like Alice in Wonderland and The Chronicles of Narnia of course, but it's been especially popular in Japan the last couple of years, with an unbelievable amount of light novels, manga and anime released based on this concept, but all with slightly different takes and also far too literal titles that explain the whole premise like In Another World With My Smartphone or That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime.

And of course, it isn't strange that there's also an isekai mystery novel. Katazato Kamome's Isekai no Meitantei 1 - Kubinashi Hime Satsujin Jiken ("The Great Detective of the Other World 1: The Case of the Headless Princess", 2019) was originally published with the title Fantasy ni Okeru Meitantei no Hitsuyousei  ("The Necessity of a Great Detective in Fantasy") on the website Shousetsuka ni Narou, where users can upload their own fiction and have other users read them. The story starts in a very, very familiar manner when it comes to isekai works. Our protagonist is an ex-cop who had always dreamt of being like the detective from the novels, but it was only in his dying moments, stabbed for some insignificant reason, that he realized that the great detective is not of this world anymore. To his great surprise though, his dying moments are followed by his own birth scene. While completely confused at first, our protagonist realizes he has been reincarnated as a baby now, but still in possession of his old memories. What's equally surprising is that he is not in Kansas anymore, or even Earth. He finds himself reincarnated in Pangea, best described as the world from fantasy novels, with magic, elves, dragons and more. Our baby protagonist is given the name Van and he grows up as the eldest son of a peasant farmer family. Van turns out to be a rather talented student, especially of magic: magic is a skill most people master in this world up to a certain degree, but usually at a rather limited scale. Van's memories of Earth science give him an edge in his studies however, and realizing how talented their son is, his parents decide to send him to the Royal Academy of the kingdom of Sherck. While normally only reserved for children of nobility, the commoner Van is chosen as this year's scholarship student because of his enormous skill in magic, and he soon becomes friends with two other 'outsiders': Leo Bahl is the brash, but clever young head of one of the most important families of nobility of Sherck, while Kirio Lafla is the only daughter of an impoverished family of nobility who was raised as a boy. Eventually, all three friends manage to graduate from the academy, and the joint thesis of Leo and Van on a complete restructuring of the justice system in Sherk, emphasizing the need for scientific investigation, attracted attention from the whole country.

Each year, the top graduating students are commemorated in a Commendation Ceremony, but this year's ceremony is exceptional, as it will be attended by the king and queen of Sherck, as well as their daugther Princess Victi, who is considered to be the living reincarnation of Saint Phata, protector of the whole world of Pangea. Victi hardly appears before others, as the royal family and the church fight a political war over her, so the fact that Victi herself will speak to each of the four students individually is singularly unique. The private ceremony is held at the former Royal Academy, a small building with no windows originally built as a fort (because the students are usually of nobility). Princess Victi is to receive each of the students one after another in the chapel as part of the ceremony: her two security guards (one of the Royals, of the church) guide the students from the main building to the chapel and once the princess has spoken with the student, the guards bring the student back to their room. Each time the Mythril doors of the chapel are locked by the two special keys held by the two guards, meaning Princess Victi is always safe inside the chapel even when they are transporting the student to and from the chapel. After the last student's done, the guards walk the princess back to her room in the main building, when suddenly part of a wall is blown up, and in the confusion, the princess disappears. One of the chapel keys is stolen too, and when they blow open the Mythril doors of the chapel, they stumble upon a horrid sight: the decapitated body of Princess Victi, reincarnation of Saint Phata herself, lying on the floor! But how could her murderer have opened the chapel with only one key, and where did they escape to considering the whole forest surrounding the former Royal Academy is swarming with soldiers? The Royal Detective Geralt the Silent is soon called to explain the situation, butLeo and Van protest to his farfetched 'solution' and say they can really solve this mystery based on proper forensic investigation and logical reasoning.

Okay, so a detective novel in a fantasy setting, one where magic is possible. Like I mentioned in a short piece last year, I love mystery stories that make use of supernatural settings. As long as the 'unusual' elements are properly introduced and explained, science fiction and fantasy elements work perfectly fine in mystery novels (in fact, the best examples authors do their best to actually be more fair than most other mystery novels). Magic is fairly well defined in Isekai no Meitantei 1 with clear limitations: line of sight is for example essential to cast magic in this world (you can't cast magic in some remote place on the other side of the world), casting takes time and while a skilled magician can easily create a block of ice the size of a fist, no magician can conjure up a whole snowman out of nowhere (to people who know Fullmetal Alchemist, magic here kinda works like alchemy in FMA, in the sense that a scientific understanding of all elements help the magician cast their magic). The Challenge to the Reader too helps define some more limitations, and with a fair amount of text that help define what magic can and more importantly can't do in this world, I'd say that Isekai no Meitantei 1 is still a fair mystery novel, that can be solved by logic and reasoning, and definitely no less fair than something by Carr for example.

It does take a long while to get to the mystery plot though. The first half of the novel is really just set-up of the world, with Van adaptating to this new environment and explaining everything about Pangea to the reader. It's fairly standard isekai fantasy stuff, which also makes this part quite boring, as so much is just exposition. On the other hand, it's also necessary, as both Van and the reader need to learn what is exactly possible in this world in order to present a fair mystery plot. You also have the usual power fantasy tropes, with Van turning out to be a brilliant student due to his Earth memories, and even co-authoring an epoch-making thesis. In the early parts of the novel you might think you'll be getting some kind of Harry Potter story, but then it jumps a few years in time, and suddenly we have Van being some kind of brilliant philosopher who wishes to change the whole criminal justice system. By the way, there are official detectives in this world, but because here the natural sciences have not developed and due to the presence of magic, investigation work in Pangea is more like 'guesswork' and there's no need for gathering evidence, proving a hypothesis or even having someone check the detective's solution: usually people just accept whatever the detective says happened (and sometimes, the 'solution' is just "perhaps there's this obscure magic spell that could..."). It's Van's history as a cop and as a fan of Earth's mystery novels, that drives him to conduct investigation in the same manner as his beloved detectives. In a sense, this reminds of the 3DS game Professor Layton vs. Gyakuten Saiban, where medieval fantasy witch trials are shaken up by the introduction of.... logic in the trials.

When you make it to the main mystery plot, you get a well-executed, but perhaps also surprisingly unsurprising detective story involving magic. As mentioned, the effectiveness of magic in this world is fairly limited. For example, at a limited distance, throwing a knife is both more effective and faster than trying to cast an explosion spell at the target. In this mystery plot, magic is therefore used for smaller scale events, but it's definitely a plot that only works because of the existence of magic. What makes this novel 'unsuprising' is exactly the fact magic is mainly used for rather smaller parts of the crime, rather than something large-scale. Of course, that's also what makes Isekai no Meitantei 1 a fairly-clewed mystery in the first place, because magic is kept at a scale that is still comprehensible to the reader, and Katazato is sure to mention all the practical uses of magic as utilized in the actual crime, have already been properly mentioned long before the solution. Magic is simply a tool like a string or a needle, not the solution to everything. Whereas Geralt the Silent first proposes a solution that is quite ridiculous for a mystery novel ("and then the murderer used some unknown magic spell that..."), the solution Van arrives at is one the reader can deduce themselves based on the clues, based on a logical examination of everything presented to them. I do think it's kinda easy to guess who the murderer is, because so much of the plot depends on a certain fact, but overall, it's a competently clewed mystery that uses magic at the right places.

Considering the current release now has a "1" in its title, I assume sequels to Isekai no Meitantei 1 - Kubinashi Hime Satsujin Jiken will follow. And yes, I'd be interested in more adventures of Van in Pangea. I do think the question of whether this really needed to be an isekai story is a fair one. At this point, Van having memories of his Earth life is mostly manifested in the fact that he's a quick learner, and the fact he knows about scientific investigation and mystery novels in general, but to be honest, this could've been a pure fantasy novel too, with Van simply being a bright kid who noticed the shortcomings of the investigative methods in this world. At the moment, there's little that really necessitates Van being from our world, besides being a vehicle for the reader to help introduce the world and provide for a framework for a fair mystery story, but Van being an Earthling isn't really interfering either, and perhaps we'll see more of that part of his Earth past in future volumes. As a first step in the world of Pangea, I'd say this first novel does a perfectly fine job.

Original Japanese title(s): 片里鴎『異世界の名探偵 1 首なし姫殺人事件』