Smoke and Mirrors

「放課後の魔術師・・・お前の仕業なのか？　この事件、絶対解決してみせる。名探偵と言われた、ジッチャンの名にかけて！！」

『金田一少年の事件簿：学園七不思議殺人事件』

"After-School Magician, was this your work? I'll definitely solve this case. In the name of my grandfather!"

"The Young Kindaichi Files: The Seven School Mysteries Murder Case"

And as I reread Tantei Gakuen Q ("Detective Academy Q"), I thought, if Tantei Gakuen Q and Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo are set in the same universe, why would Hajime have chosen to go a normal high school? He would have been a great student there. Oh, because of Miyuki of course.That explains everything. That's when I realized that I had been reading too much of both series lately. Oh, and hey, I've almost posted half the amount I posted in 2010 in total within the month.

Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken ("The Seven School Mysteries Murder Case") was originally serialized in 1993 as the fourth story arc in the Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo series, but it has been used as the pilot story in both the TV drama starring Doumoto Tsuyoshi (1995) and the anime (199７) and acquired a very prominent place within the Kindaichi Shounen mythos. People might wonder why the story order was changed, but it was actually a very wise choice of the producers of both the TV drama and the anime to choose this story as their opening story, as what is a better way to introduce a high school student detective than in his own natural habitat, the school?

Slacker (and grandson of famous detective Kindaichi Kousuke) Hajime gets recruited into the school's Mystery Study Club (and Miyuki tags along to keep an eye on them) and it is decided that the club is going to investigate the Seven Mysteries of Fudou High School, a set of urban legends surrounding the old school annex building. It is said that if a student gets to know about all seven of the mysteries, he will be killed by the After-School Magician. It also seems that someone calling him the After-School Magician has sent a threatening letter to Fudou High's director, telling him to stop the plans of breaking down the old annex. The club members thus start their investigation into the Seven Mysteries, but it does not take long for the After-School Magician to appear before the eyes of the eager student. With the hanged body of their club's president. What's even more puzzling is that the After-School Magician manages to escape, together with his victim, from a locked and watched classroom in just seconds!

Well, let's start out with saying that it does not take a masterdetective to solve the puzzle of the instant disappearance out of the locked room, because the solution screams at you the moment the investigation starts. The TV drama tries to mix things up a bit by adding an original subplot, but the basic idea is still very basic and will not fool anyone. The way the Seven Mysteries of Fudou High are connected to the murder is done pretty good though and definitely one of the high points of the story.

This story misses the big closed circle serial murder cases-angle of the previous stories, but Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken does work a lot better as the introduction to the series. The manga's pilot story, The Opera House Murder Case, does involve school activities, but the setting of a high school as a high school detective's debut is much more natural. Furthermore, the story has several plot twists that involve Hajime's own friends, making Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken a much more personal story compared to the previous stories.

While the story does not feature a particularly memorable trick, it is still one of my favorite Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo stories and to be honest, I do not really know why. I have an at times irrational weak spot for Kindaichi Shounen, but there is more to this than that. Part of it is probably because Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken was the first detective story that introduced me to the world of Japanese high schools. To be precise, the world of high schools as depicted in horror stories. By now, I've come across many, many stories that reference urban legends surrounding Japanese schools and it is an often used trope in horror stories (Hanako-san is a famous example), but the Seven Mysteries of Fudou High were the first school urban legends I got to know. But the old school annex is also an often seen trope in horror stories and in my totally poluted mind, a Japanese school just needs a ghost and a haunted annex before I can properly call it a school. Actually, Kyushu University's Hakozaki campus has quite some buildings that fit the image.

But Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken also made quite an impression on me because I first saw the anime version of this story. I usually prefer the original manga to anime adaptations, but the Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo anime is really a well-made production. One of the biggest characteristics is how creepy the anime is in comparison to the manga. The whole atmosphere of the TV series is a lot darker than the manga and the production team really nailed the whole horror-tone the series in general tries to invoke (but it does not always succeed in the manga because of the way scenes are cut). I also have to praise Wada Kaoru for an awesome soundtrack. Shissou / The Wild Run (the main theme) and Jicchan no Na ni Kakete / In the Name of My Grandfather are memorable tracks that really set the more epic tone of the anime series.

And this is slightly offtopic, but am I the only one who prefers traditional cel-animation to digital animation? It might be my age, but I really feel there is something special to cel animation. I know that there are some simply amazing things out there animated digitally, but watching some of the Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo anime really made me realize how awesome traditional cel-animation was and how much of an impact it had on the overall ambience of a production. Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo ran from 1997 to 2000 and started out as a traditionally animated series. Those episodes are really the best part of the series, as they really convey the feeling of terror and fear of the stories. It is the way the colors are displayed on the screen, the movements, the whole way a cel animated show turns out be. The later episodes are animated digitally and suddenly everybody looks all shiny with saturated colors and gone is the whole creepy atmosphere! The jump to digital animation really took away an important aspect of the anime I think. Compare the Hajime above to this Hajime! You can just tell that cel-animated!Hajime is much more awesome!

OK, I admit that digital animation was the best thing that could have happened to the Conan anime. But even you have to admit that the cel-animated episodes feel less... almost sickenly clinically clean compared to the digitally animated episodes.

While not a perfect story by a long shot, Gakuen Nanafushigi Satsujin Jiken really works well as an introducing story of the series and I think the school urban legends angle makes this a story worth watching. And as I write this conclusion, I remember that I should praise the English translation of the manga a little here, for a simply brilliant adaptation of a particular message that was originally very dependant on a cultural specific thing (not going into details here): the adaptation actually makes it possible for English readers to solve it themselves. It's pretty ingenous in the original story too, by the way.

And no, I am not going to review every episode of the anime. I might do one on the two original stories of the anime though.

Original Japanese title(s): 『金田一少年の事件簿： 学園七不思議殺人事件』

The Lost Special

なんなんだなんなんだ

この毎日はいったいなんだ

窓に映る僕は誰だ

ここはどこで　どこまで行くんだ

「ファイティングポーズの詩」 (馬場俊英)

What is this? What is this?

What kind of life is this?

Who is the me reflected in the window?

Where am I and where am I going?

'Fighting Pose Song' (Baba Toshihide)

It would have been so much more logical if I had started out reviewing English-translated Japanese novels and then moved on the non-translated novels. No offense meant to anyone, but moving back to English does feel like taking a step back.

One of the most prolific writers in Japan is Nishimura Kyoutarou. He is famous for his travel/train mysteries, that seem like a mix between detective stories, the railway schedule and a tourist guide. Keenfully constructed alibis that make use of the detailed and complex railway system in Japan and cops who have to travel across Japan by train to investigate their cases, it's the formula Nishimura has used for many, many years now and what made him popular. He is also strongly connected with TV productions and if you're watching an afternoon rerun of a two-hour mystery drama in Japan, there is a one in a three chance it's based on a plot by Nishimura (the other candidates are Uchida Yasuo and Yamamura Misa). Wikipedia tells me he has written 469 novels as of today, at the rate of almost a book a month. Sometimes two. And yes, that does has effects on the quality of his novels. I've seen a couple of the TV dramas and read one or two of his train mystery novels, but they are usually not really that interesting (I liked the first DS game though!). But no, I am not a big fan.

In fact, the only Nishimura Kyoutarou novels I've discussed here until now were the four novels of his Great Detectives series. Not Afraid of Great Detectives, Too Many Great Detectives, Even Great Detectives Don't Have It Easy and Cheers To The Great Detectives feature the four detectives Hercule Poirot, Ellery Queen, Maigret and Akechi Kogorou in a grand murder investigation crossover. These are some early works by Nishimura and the books are out of print (also because Nishimura never bothered clearing the rights for the use of the characters), but they are 'normal' orthodox detectives and not train-mysteries at all. The series started out pretty fun but ends in a mess, but the idea is fun. Anyway, it is pretty strange to have discussed four novels of Nishimura without any of them featuring a train...

The first Nishimura Kyoutarou novel I read was The Mystery Train Disappears (original title: Misuteri Ressha ga Kieta), which is as far as I know the only novel available of him in English. The novel was originally published in 1982, with the translation dating eight years later and is part of Nishimura Kyoutarou's Inspector Totsugawa series, his most famous creation. I have to admit that I know very little about Totsugawa, but there is actually little to tell about him except for the fact that he is a homicide inspector at the Metropolitan Police Department, who with his partner Kamei has been solving crimes since the 1970s. And he's also the hero in Nishimura's most recent work (to be released this Wednesday),  Totsugawa Keibu Seibu Shinjukusen no Shikaku ("Inspector Totsugawa - The Dead Angle of the Seibu-Shinjuku Line"). So Totsugawa's been around for some time.

The title of The Mystery Train Disappears tells the reader everything, actually. The Mystery Train is a special train run by the Japan National Railways with an unknown destination and schedule. All people know is that they are promised an entertaining ride on a train that is to leave Tokyo on a Saturday and return the following Monday. And this sense of mystery of course attracts people. Over 8000 people applied for a seat, but only 400 passengers were lucky enough to receive tickets for this exclusive train. A day after the Mystery Train's departure, the JNR's director receives a phone call: someone claims to have taken all 400 passengers hostage and demands ransom money. At first, nobody believes this story, but a couple of a phone calls makes it clear: the Mystery Train has indeed disappeared! The train definitely left Tokyo on Saturday, but it never arrived at Tottori, one of the secret destinations of the Mystery Train's schedule. The trains that were scheduled after the Mystery Train were all running on time, so there couldn't have been an accident on the track midway. How did the kidnappers manage to get hold of a complete train and all 400 passengers?

The problem with the disappearance of a train has traditionally been that there are not many ways to make a complete train disappear. I think I've read Conan Doyle's The Lost Special and Queen's Snowball in July, and I like the latter's solution more, but let's admit, there are only so many things you can do with a gigantic heavy metal tube that usually needs some kind of rails under it to move. Nishimura's solution to the problem is interesting, but though I am no railway fanatic, even I see several problems with the way Nishimura explained how the Mystery Train disappeared. Indeed, the Japanese wiki-page for this novel even makes an explicit statement that the disappearance trick used here is not possible now and not even when the book was originally published. Which kinda kills the magic. A big problem also lies with the scale: Nishimura's trick might have worked on a smaller scale, but certainly not with a 12-wagon train with 400 passengers.

There are actually two investigations going on at the same time: one is the search for the disappeared train and another is related to the transfer of the ransom money and the latter one is actually more interesting. The criminals manage to get away with the ransom money from a running train, even though the windows were locked and every passenger searched by the police. This disappearance trick overshadows the trick of the Mystery Train as it is more believable, which could not have been Nishimura's original intent.

I am also not exactly sure whether a series detective like Totsugawa was needed in this book at all. The police and the JNR are being played with by the hostage takers throughout most of the book and in fact, the story reaches its conclusion pretty much on its own, without any real interference of the police. I am not a Totsugawa fan at all, but I can imagine that some readers might have felt unsatisfied with his portrayal, because literally any police inspector could have filled in the role of Totsugawa here.

In the end, I do wonder why this novel was selected to be translated. As far as I know, it's considered pretty average even among Japanese fans of Nishimura, so why not one of his better books? Most of the Japanese mysteries translated to English are pretty good / considered classics, but The Mystery Train Disappears does not really feel worthwile. If in need for an awesome Japanese train mystery, see Matsumoto's Points and Lines.

Original Japanese title(s): 西村京太郎　『ミステリー列車が消えた』

Two Stations in Kashii

「ずいぶん寂しい所ね」

『点と線』

"What a lonely place!"

"Points and Lines"

I'll just start this post with admitting right away that I am not a big fan of Matsumoto Seichou. And that's actually not completely his fault. It is more because of how (mostly English) reviewers and scholars can't seem to stop raving about the realism in his novels and how Matsumoto manages to capture the social problems of postwar Japanese society, like class-struggles and the unfair justice system, perfectly within his stories. English reviews of Matsumoto's Ten to Sen ("Points and Lines") and Suna no Utsuwa ("The Sand Vessel", published as Inspector Imanishi Investigates) therefore often have the tendency to turn out almost the same, even though technically the stories are quite different. Historicizing when discussing fiction is something I do too, even though at times it seems a bit as an excuse to 'justify' reviewing genre fiction, but I have the feeling the (English) Matsumoto Seichou reviewers have a tendency to exeggarate this.

Matsumoto has written some interesting stories though. While Matsumoto's more orthodox detective stories sometimes suffer from being rather bland, several of his short stories like Kimyou na Hikoku ("The Strange Defendant") and Hansha ("Reflection") are pretty fun to read. But the one novel by him I really, really like is Ten to Sen ("Points and Lines").

Matsumoto Seichou debuted in 1957 the short story Kao, but the Matsumoto-boom in Japan started one year later, with his first novel Points and Lines (also available in English). The discovery of the dead bodies of Otaki, a waitress and Sayama, a senior offical in a ministry, on the beach of Kashiihama, Fukuoka is what sets the story in motion. The case is initially handled as a love suicide, but one of the local detectives suspects that it was actually murder, also because Sayama was wanted by the Metropolitan Police Department in relation with the investigation of bribery case at his ministry. This man's death is rather convenient for his superiors. A important suspect comes up during the investigation, but there is one problem: the suspect has an ironclad alibi. The suspect had to be in Fukuoka on the southern island of Kyuushuu on the night of the murder, but that would have made it impossible for him to be in Sapporo on the northern island of Hokkaidou the next morning. How did the man manage to teleport from one side of Japan to another?

And to admit another thing: one of the reasons I love this novel is because I lived in Kashiihama, Fukuoka for a year. I was only a minute away from the crime scene of Points and Lines. I have stood there at the beach dozens of time. Kashiihama was a wonderful place to live. So rereading the novel really brought up some great memories of this little neighbourhood in the eastern ward of Fukuoka. More than fifty years have past since Matsumoto first wrote this story and things might have changed a bit in those years (nowadays the road from the station to the beach of Kashiihama is not really lonely, for example), but Matsumoto's description of Kashii and Kashiihama is not as outdated as one would think and conveys the ambience of the quaint little block wonderfully. Matsumoto's writing might seem dry at times, but he actually has a wonderful knack for describing ordinary day scenery and customs expertly in just a few words. His short story Harikomi ("Stakeout") for example also features some great descriptions of Kyuushuu, the problem with it is just that it is not a mystery story at all. Matsumoto himself was from Kokura, so he must have have been familiar with Kashii. Interesting is that the two stations at Kashii (a JR station and the private Nishitetsu line), that play an important role in the story, are still in use today. Points and Lines actually made Kashii famous and even now there is a Seichou Sakura to commemorate Points and Lines planted at the Nishitetsu Kashii station.

But nostalgia is a dangerous thing, Tezuka Osamu's impressive series Phoenix taught me, so what about the story itself? Is Points and Lines worth reading if you have not lived in Kashii? As can be guessed from the summary, this is a story that revolves around the deconstruction of the main suspect's alibi and it is actually pretty ingenous. Matsumoto (the murderer) really did his best in coming up with a seemingly ironclad alibi with several safety nets for himself. It's a bit of a shame the English paperback version does not feature a map of the whole of Japan (it has a couple of maps of the Fukuoka area though), because for readers not familiar with Japan's topography, it might be hard to imagine how the distance between Kashii and Sapporo. It is really, really far away. Which makes the alibi trick all the more awesome. I actually want to write a bit more about the trick, but I guess that be nearing that ever-dangerous spoiler area, which is something I want to avoid.

And now for my third confession, I don't think I've ever read anything written by Freeman Crofts. But the focus on alibis and trains in Points and Lines is similar to many of Freeman Crofts' stories, I've been told. Trains play a big, big part within the world of Points and Lines and that's not strange. Trains have been a very large part of the Japanese culture ever since their introduction in the early Meiji period (post-1868) and was crucial for nation-building. Many people have heard about the bullet-trains developed in Japan. Trains are still an important means of transportation for longer domestic trips and there is even a whole culture around the so-called eki-ben, boxed meals sold at stations with local specialties. Heck, the whole subgenre of travel mysteries and train mysteries (mostly by Nishimura Kyoutarou, but I haven't reviewed any of his travel mysteries yet) in Japan is pretty much built upon the whole train culture, linking domestic tourism and the detailed railway schedules of trains that magically never seem to be late. I assume that countries like the United States don't have such a tradition in train mysteries. In the Netherlands, I guess most train mysteries are doomed to fail because the time in the railway schedule seldom seems to correspond with the actual times, you usually have to count in a five minute lag. Or maybe ten minutes.

Points and Lines also occasionally relies on what some people like to call 'typical Japanese customs / way of thinking', which are actually not really such unique indigenous customs as those people seem to make them out be. Matsumoto's stories do often seem to feature some cultural customs as crucial plot-points. In fact, one of the more important insight the detective in the story has, is pretty much copied from Matsumoto's own debut story Kao ("Face"), which also revolved around a certain way of thinking. Point and Lines however makes much better use of the same 'trick', almost like Matsumoto himself thought the trick in Kao could and should have been used for something better.

Like I admitted, I love Points and Lines partly because it is so strongly related to a place dear to me, but it is also a good alibi deconstruction mystery that is satisfying not only to those reviewers who praise Matsumoto for describing how a chair looks like in Japan in his novels, but also for people interested in a good old mystery that happens to be set in Japan.

Original Japanese title(s): 松本清張　『点と線』

Detective Movie

「僕も映画界の巨匠蔵沢 明の孫なんだよ。お互い偉大な祖父を持つと苦労するね・・・」

「別に？そんなことないっスよ！ジッチャンのことは誇りに思うけど、俺は俺だからさ！！」

『金田一少年の事件簿：銀幕の殺人鬼』

"I am the grandson of Kurasawa Akira, the grand master of the film industry. We both suffer quite a bit by having such illustrious grandfathers, right..."

"Not really! ... I am proud of my grandpa, but I am myself!"

"The Case Files of Young Kindaichi: The Murderer of the Silver Screen"

A sharp mind is of course essential to a fictional detective, but what is also important is.... a distinctive silhouette. Sherlock Holmes. Edogawa Conan. Kindaichi Hajime. Kindaichi Kousuke. One glance and you instantly know who the character is and what kind of story you can expect. I've written several times how important Ishikawa Kon's movies, and especially Ishizaka Kouji's acting, have been for the visual image of Kindaichi Kousuke. The shoddy hakama, the long hair, it was all in the original novels, but it was Ishizaka who first succesfully depicted Yokomizo's creation on the screen in 1976's Inugamike no Ichizoku. It's that image that people nowadays recognize as Kindaichi Kousuke.

One year before Ishizaka debuted as Kindaichi, Nakao Akira starred in a movie version of the first Kindaichi Kousuke novel, Honjin Satsujin Jiken ("The Daimyou's Inn Murder Case"). The novel itself is generally seen as one of the best, if not the best Japanese locked room mystery ever, but this 1975 movie is also widely regarded as one of the best, if not the best locked room mystery movie ever. The movie tells the story of the locked room murder of a couple on their wedding night, accompanied by the horrifyingly creepy sound of someone playing madly on a koto. For more details on my thoughts on the story and the importance of Honjin Satsujin Jiken within the literary history of Japanese detective fiction, I refer to the review of the novel, but it has to be said that it is almost surprising how loyal the movie generally is to the original story.

Generally I say, because there is one big change from the original story. The original story was set just before the Second World War, but the 1975 movie is set in contemporary times and even more surprising, has a Kindaichi Kousuke dressed in jeans. This was a radical (visual) change from the original character, who always walks around in an old hakama. Just compare Nakao's Kindaichi (left) to Ishizaka's Kindaichi (right)!

I thought I would totally hate this movie because of this, but I couldn't be more wrong. Nakao's choice of dress was a bit distracing at first, but he plays a wonderful Kindaichi Kousuke, who's a bit sharper and older than Ishizaka's one. In fact, most of the acting is good and the set, a gigantic old Japanese mansion (complete with annex) is simply gorgeous. Most of the story is set around this mansion and they really went out all out with it.

This movie is also widely praised because it managed to portray the trick behind the locked room murder in an understandable, yet impressive way. And yes, it does precisely that. The trick is so much more impressive when visualized and truly deserves the praise it gets not only as the first true Japanese orthodox locked room mystery, but also as a great trick an sich. The way it is reproduced on film is wonderful and I understand well why people consider this the best locked room mystery movie ever.

My only gripe with the movie is the way Kindaichi's explanation is portrayed in the movie: it is edited as a multi-part explanation with accompanying footage (if you see it, you'll know what I mean), but it drags on for quite some time and could have been at least ten minutes shorter without any real sacrifices, I feel. I vaguely remember the explanation being split in two parts in the original novel too, but it kinda kills the suspense you build up during a denouement scene if you cut it off halfway through only to continue it later. A smooth running explanation scene feels so much better.

Ishikawa Kon and Ishizaka Kouji never did a version of Honjin Satsujin Jiken. This might have also be because of the movie-rights, but they might have also felt that it was not really needed. It might have featured a visually different Kindaichi Kousuke, but Honjin Satsujin Jiken is really an excellent adaptation of the oriignal story.

 Original Japanese title(s): 『本陣殺人事件』

Three Act Tragedy

「私はオペラ座の怪人---思いのほかに醜いだろう？この禍禍しき怪物は地獄の業火に焼かれながらそれでも天国に憧れる！」

『金田一少年の事件簿：オペラ座館殺人事件』

"I am the Phantom of the Opera. Am I not unbelievably hideous? But even while this ill-omened monster is being consumed by the inferno of hell, I still long for heaven!"

"The Case Files of Young Kindaichi: The Opera House Murder Case" 

Happy birthday, Kindaichi Hajime! It's been 20 years since our young high school detective Hajime and love interest Miyuki first made their debut in the story Operazakan Satsujin Jiken ("The Opera House Murder Case") in 1992, but the duo is still going strong, with a new case waiting for them in March (The Man-Eating Laboratory Murder Case). I do hope they'll celebrate his anniversary with more events later this year! What about a new videogame (a good one please this time)? Or a new TV drama based on the second season stories?

It does seem that few people realize that the Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo series is pretty much what shaped the whole detective manga genre. Kindaichi Shounen was almost epoch-making as a manga inspired by orthodox detective fiction and series like Detective Conan and Q.E.D. are very much indebted to their grandfather. Kindaichi Shounen popularized the fair-play mystery comic genre and introduced little touches too, like catchphrases that serve as challenges to the reader (the infamous nazo wa subete toketa /  all the mysteries have been solved). It also spawned a gigantic media mix franchise: an anime (including movies), several widely popular live action series and movies, audio dramas, a novel series, videogames and probably more stuff I can't think of right now.

And so, to commemorate Kindaichi Shounen's twentieth anniversary, a review of a special set of stories from the Kindaichi Shounen canon. And we begin with the very first Kindaichi Shounen story, Operazakan Satsujin Jiken ("The Opera House Murder Case"). Kindaichi Hajime and childhood friend/love interest Nanase Miyuki, together with members of the theater club of their high school and their supervising teacher, travel to the Opera House Hotel at Utashima island to rehearse their play of Gaston Leroux' The Phantom of the Opera. It does not take long for Kindaichi, who is not actually a member of the club, to notice that there is some underlying tension between his companions, all tied to the suicide of an ex-member of the club. The whole thing explodes however when a murder is commited by dropping down a stage light on top of one of the actresses. More murders happen, including one under impossible circumstances and they seem to have been commited by someone dressed like the play's Phantom. But little did the murderer know that Kindaichi Hajime is the grandson of the famous masterdetective Kindaichi Kousuke...

The Yokomizo Seishi estate later objected to the use of Kindaichi Kousuke's name actually, so in later volumes Hajime usually just refers to 'his grandpa'. But it was indeed fitting for Hajime to be the grandson of Kindaichi Kousuke, and not only because they both represent the first in a wave of orthodox detective fiction. Kousuke's most famous cases, like Akuma no Temariuta, Inugamike no Ichizoku, Gokumontou are all essentialy mitate-satsujin (a 'resembling' murder), an off-spring to the nursery rhyme murder. These are murders to are made to symbolize something else. Nursery rhymes are an example, but mitate-satsujin are usually more diverse as it has none of the 'storybook' annotations the nursery rhyme murder has. In this first case of Hajime, he also encounters mitate-satsujin, with the actual murders resembling the murders of the play, both commited by the Phantom. And yes, there are no (few?) actual murders in the original Phantom of the Opera, but it is later explained that the school club is performing a stage adaptation that features a lot of murders.

The overall story is entertaining for early Kindaichi Shounen standards, but the use of a well-known trick in the last part of the story pretty much points out who the murderer is. Of course, most Kindaichi Shounen stories follow a formula pretty strict, with the most common tropes actually introduced in this first story. The school club on a trip, a closed circle situation, an avenger of the past, persons playing multiple parts, locked room murders, impossible situations and a dramatic ending. Which makes the series predictable at times. When the series is on a roll however, it does these tropes wonderfully though and then these tropes don't feel as a burden at all. In this first story, it's clear what the major influences are, but it does not feel as a bad thing. The complete story is decent and to me it is clear why the story managed to draw in a large audience.

Regarding the production of the series, it has to be noted that this first story was actually written by Kaneda Youzaburou. Amagi Seimaru, the current script-writer, was the one who came up with the idea of Kindaichi Shounen no Jikenbo (, but Kaneda was the one who actually wrote a large part of the first season of the Kindaichi Shounen manga. Amagi took over the series about halfway the first season and he has been the story-runner for everything Kindaichi Shounen since 1998.

At the end of the story, Hajime, Miyuki and the other survivors of the tragedy leave Utashima and the Opera House Hotel, but they retutrned 2 years later, in Operazakan - Aratanaru Satsujin ("The Opera House - Murders Once More"), the second novel (and remade as the first anime movie) (penned by Amagi). The owner of the Opera House Hotel, a former playwright and director, decides to reopen his hotel as a proper theater and has invited several old friends, including Hajime, Miyuki and inspector Kenmochi to the first performance in his theater. And yes, it is The Phantom of the Opera. Hajime naturally feels worried about a new performance of The Phantom in the Opera House Hotel and he is right. The first night a gigantic chandelier falls on top of the actress playing Carlotta. More murders happen and once again Hajime finds out there's a secret in the past of the cast.

This is a really strange story to rate. The murders here are also made to resemble the ones that appear in their version of The Phantom of the Opera and as a result, this story really resembles Operazakan Satsujin Jiken. The light-source falling on top of someone (this time in a locked room), a hanged corpse, someone found in a water-vessel, this story feels more like remake of the original story than a proper sequel. They are just too alike. Overall, the first story feels better constructed, even though the impossible chandelier murder in this novel was actually quite good. The other murders just seem less satisfying.

At one hand, the novel feels a bit different because of the heavier themes compared to the manga. Which isn't all nice to begin with. The other Kindaichi Shounen novels also feature this. On the other hand, the quick switches between points of view, between segments and the short dialogue sections really make this book feel like a glorified storyboard for a manga or anime. It's moving fast, too fast for its own good. This is a story that could have improved from a longer page count. I saw the movie a long time ago and in my memories, the movie is a lot better than the novel in regards of pacing.

The final appearance of the Opera House Hotel is in Operazakan - Daisan no Satsujin ("The Opera House - The Third Murder Case"), the second story of the second season of the manga (post-2004). The old owner of the Opera House Hotel has passed away and the island has been in the possession of a friend of his for some time. She decides to tear the place down and has invited a group of old students of the deceased stage director, and Hajime, Miyuki and Kenmochi for one final performance of The Phantom of the Opera in the Opera House Hotel. By now, you would think that performing this play there could be considered attempted murder, but enfin. Hajime feels uneasy about it all and it doesn't take long for the chandelier to fall on top of a poor actress. Again. It's the start of a new series of murders on Utashima and the main suspect is... once again the Phantom.

This time, the murders don't really follow the ones of the play anymore, so the story avoids feeling too similar to the previous two stories set at the Hotel. Also different from the previous two stories is how the first murder (the falling chandelier) is actually the least satisfying murder of them all. Which is not to say that it is a bad trick, but the overall standard of the tricks in this story is pretty good and certainly the best of all three murder cases at the Opera House Hotel. Ignoring The Phantom of the Opera for the murders themselves (it is used for background settings though) was a wise choice by Amagi this time and really made this an enjoyable story. It also allowed him to explore the island of Utashima a bit more (this is actually the first time we get a full shot of the island and we get a glimpse of the other points of interest at the island), which was pretty interesting, considering that despite Hajime and Miyuki having visited the island several times, we never got to see much of the island.

Thematic, this story also forms a nice evolution / reconstruction of the previous two volumes, with several established tropes being reversed in this story. It really strengthens the story if you read it after the first story, as it does feel like a set then. This story has also been made into a TV anime special in 2007, which my memory tells me was a somewhat shortened version of the original story which did not feel as satisfying as the manga.

For all three stories, it is interesting how the presentation of the Opera House Hotel as a yakata-mono (mansion story) never really succeeds. The creepy Western-style mansion on Utashima island is clearly meant to be presented as such, but The Phantom of the Opera completely overshadows the Hotel's presence. In fact, the only real presence of the Hotel is focused within the chandelier of the hotel's theater that has a tendency to fall on people. Which is pretty creepy yes, but the rest of the building just seems like filler. Which seems like a shame, because the setting really had potentional, especially as it was being re-used several times.

For the moment, it does not seem like Hajime, Miyuki and inspector Kenmochi will return to the island for a fourth time because of how the last story ended, but who knows? Utashima and the Opera House Hotel are so much part of the Kindaichi Shounen mythos that I wouldn't be surprised if one day, our trio will come back to their place of birth.

And remember, never ever stand beneath a light source in a theater. It will crash on top of you.

Original Japanese title(s): 　金成陽三郎（原作） &  さとうふみや（画） 『金田一少年の事件簿：オペラ座館殺人事件』 /  天樹征丸（原作） & さとうふみや（画）　『金田一少年の事件簿：オペラ座館　新たなる殺人』　『金田一少年の事件簿：オペラ座館　第三の殺人』

Secret of my Heart

「聞くは一時の恥。聞かないは一生の恥じ」

『428　～封鎖された渋谷で～』

"Asking will make you feel ashamed for a while. Not asking will make feel you ashamed for a lifetime"

"428 ~ In A Sealed Off Shibuya~"

This second entry in the Short Shorts certainly came earlier than I myself had guessed. I guess I pick up small, insignificant things at a faster rate than I thought. Like the previous time, this is just a series of unrelated thoughts that wouldn't have made for interesting seperate posts.

Aah, the hours that pass by as I scour websites like YouTube and Nico Nico Douga. Which is probably not nearly as long as the time it took the creators of the following Detective Conan related movies. One is an impressive statistical research of all the deaths in the series. The title says I counted the persons who died in Detective Conan (including the anime and such). Yes, it is as ridiculous as it sounds. The creator even went through the trouble of categorizing the deaths in homicide, suicide, accidental death, illness and unknown causes. It goes up until the first 68 volumes of the manga, episode 574 of the anime and the Lost Ship in the Sky movie. There were actually fewer deaths than I had expected. Even more ridiculous is the movie where someone counted the times the word barō (a Conan-specific swear word based on the longer bakayarō) is said. And I thought reviewing the Conan manga from the beginning was insane. Random fact: it is barō in the manga, but pronounced more like bārō in the anime, which is why most people write it as the latter.

And ooh, a new videogame of Conan! Kako kara no Prelude ("Prelude from the Past") is a sequel (prequel?) to Rondo of the Blue Jewel, which was sorta decent. It's a DS/PSP release, which means I don't have to switch hardware yet. Wondering how they'll differ. I prefer DS games as they are cheaper and I can play a lot longer on my DS than on my PSP, but I'd totally go for the PSP version if they included voice acting.

Because Edogawa Rampo mostly wrote unorthodox mystery stories, I sometimes hesitate writing about them here, but I guess they fit this short shorts segment. Hito De Nashi No Koi ("An Inhuman Love") is a pretty famous horror short story by Rampo, that actually seems to start out as a detective. The narrator, Kyouko, tells the reader about an incident that happened when she had just married, a local heir who was known as being stunningly handsome, but there were also rumors of him being misogynist. Luckily for Kyouko, those rumors seem to be false, but she does discover that her husband sneaks out of bed every night to go to the second floor of the small storage building. Following him, she hears her husband and another woman talking silently there. Kyouko naturally thinks of an affaire and waits outside the building to confront the pair, but only her husband comes out. This is repeated several times, with her husband's lover seemingly disappearing into thin air every night. Up until this point the story seems like an impossible disappearance story, but the ending clearly places this in the horror subgenre. I sadly enough already knew the ending because Hito De Nashi no Koi was mentioned a paper on a certain theme in Edogawa Rampo's works, but it is still a pretty interesting short story.

Rampo's Monogram is even shorter than Hito De Nashi No Koi, but also less interesting. The story starts with two men who just happen to sit next to each other on a couch in the park. The two men start talking with each other and they both can't seem to shake the feeling they have met before, even though they are both sure they never did. This story is really, really happy and sweet and light-hearted and everything nice, which is very surprising for an Edogawa Rampo work. Heck, even his Shounen Tantei Dan series is darker than this. It thus felt surprisingly fresh, even though the story is pretty simple and nothing special an sich. Rampo himself didn't rate this story very high either, but he had an interesting note about how he wrote this story, basically a love story surrounding a 'code' of some sorts. Hiding behind a code was what fitted his own personality, Rampo said, as he himself was pretty shy and didn't dare to show his own feelings himself too. Awww.

Around the same time the TV drama of Nazotoki wa Dinner no Ato de ("Mystery Solving Is After Dinner") started, NHK produced a radio drama of the series. Or to be more precise, they made a radio drama based on the first story of the first book, Satsujin Genba de wa Kutsu wo O-nugi Kudasai ("Please Take Off Your Shoes At A Murder Scene"). I didn't really like this radio drama, because it featured a narrator who was absolutely unneccessary for the story. The complete story could have been perfectly conveyed with just the two characters of Reiko and butler Kageyama and that would have made for a much more enthralling show. The story itself is still a very entertaining one, that revolves around the simple question: why was the murder victim wearing shoes inside her apartment (which is simply not done in Japan). It seems like a very trivial question, but butler Kageyama manages to solve this case based on this little fact alone. In fact, most stories in Nazotoki seem to revolve around almost Queenian strange murder scenes.Which makes the series the more fun. It's kinda sad NHK didn't do this radio drama within their own NHK Youth Adventure series, as I've been very content with those productions until now.

Original Japanese title(s):　江戸川乱歩　『人でなしの恋』『モノグラム』 / 東川篤哉　「殺人現場では靴をお脱ぎください」

The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter

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

『名探偵コナン』

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

"Detective Conan"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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