Tag: Japan

The Mill House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji

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Translated by Ho-Ling Wong

This is the third of Japanese author Yukito Ayatsuji’s books I’ve read – I loved The Labyrinth House Murders but found The Decagon House Murders disappointing, so I was curious to see what I would think of this one. All three books are part of Ayatsuji’s Bizarre House series and all of them feature the detective Shimada Kiyoshi and an unusual, sinister house designed by the architect Nakamura Seiji. The Mill House Murders was originally published in Japanese in 1988 and is available from Pushkin Press in an English translation.

This book is set entirely within the walls of the Mill House which, like the Decagon House and Labyrinth House, is one of Nakamura’s creations. It’s home to Fujinuma Kiichi, who sustained terrible injuries in a car accident several years earlier and is now confined to a wheelchair, with a mask and gloves covering the damage to his face and hands. Kiichi is the son of the late artist Fujinuma Issei, and although he normally lives a reclusive life with his wife, Yurie, and their servants, once a year he invites a group of acquaintances to the house to look at his father’s paintings.

In September 1985, the group are making their annual visit when several shocking events occur, all in the space of one night: a woman falls to her death from the tower, one of Issei’s paintings vanishes, one of the guests disappears without explanation and a gruesome discovery is made in the furnace room. A solution is suggested by the police, but it’s not very satisfactory and lots of questions remain unanswered. A year later, in September 1986, the same people have gathered at the Mill House again and this time they are joined by Shimada Kiyoshi, a friend of the man who disappeared (and was largely blamed for everything that happened). Shimada believes he can find out the truth about the events of 1985, but he’ll have to hurry before history begins to repeat itself.

The Mill House Murders is another Ayatsuji novel that I thoroughly enjoyed, so it does seem that it’s only The Decagon House that, for whatever reason, didn’t work for me and I’m glad I decided to give him another chance! Although I often find that Japanese mysteries focus very heavily on complex puzzle solving, often involving alibis, timetables and maps, with characters, relationships and motives pushed into the background, this particular book is more balanced. It does have some floor plans, but I was pleased to find that I could follow the plot quite easily without having to study them too carefully, and the characterisation is stronger than in the Decagon and Labyrinth books.

The timeline switches backwards and forwards throughout the book, with one chapter describing the events of 1985 and the next set in the present day of 1986. This could have become confusing, but as long as I paid attention to the chapter headings, I had no problem keeping them straight in my mind. The mystery itself is a clever one; I partly managed to solve it (mainly because some of Seishi Yokomizo’s novels have similar tropes), but I didn’t get it completely right and was content to let Shimada Kiyoshi, the series detective, explain the full solution for me.

The translator, Ho-Ling Wong, also translated the other books I’ve read in this series and does a great job of making everything very clear and readable. I see there’s a fourth book in the series already in print – The Clock House Murders – and another, The Black Cat House Murders, on its way. I’ll look forward to reading both!

Suspicion by Seichō Matsumoto

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Translated by Jesse Kirkwood

For this year’s Japanese Literature Challenge (hosted by Meredith at Dolce Bellezza), I wanted to read something by an author who was new to me and decided on Suspicion by Seichō Matsumoto. It turned out to be an excellent choice!

Suspicion was originally published in Japanese in 1982 and is now available from Penguin Classics in a new English translation. It’s a short novella at 112 pages, but it’s satisfying and I didn’t feel that it needed to be any longer. Loosely based on a true crime, the plot revolves around the trial of Kumako Onizuka, a woman accused of murdering her husband. She had only been married to Shirakawa for a few months when their car plunged into the sea one rainy July evening. Onizuka, who later claimed to have been in the passenger seat, managed to escape, but Shirakawa was drowned.

The story is told mainly from the perspective of the journalist Akitani, who is covering the case for the Hokuriku Daily. Akitani believes Onizuka is guilty and has written several pieces for the newspaper making his opinion very clear. Onizuka has a shady background, having already committed two or three other crimes, and the fact that she took out a large insurance policy on her husband’s life just before his death makes the whole thing look even more suspicious. Akitani is convinced that it was Onizuka and not Shirakawa who drove the car into the sea and in his newspaper articles he draws attention to her past, her character and even her name, Oni, which is associated with demons in Japanese.

However, all the evidence against Onizuka is purely circumstantial and when her original lawyer steps down due to illness, the court appoints a new one, Takukichi Sahara, who believes he’ll be able to prove her innocence. Akitani is horrified – Onizuka has links with the Yakuza (Japan’s version of the Mafia) and if she’s freed she’s sure to want revenge on everyone who has spoken out against her.

This is such a fascinating book. On one level, it works as a detective novel, with Sahara doing the ‘detecting’, looking through the evidence, considering the witness statements and trying to determine what really happened that evening in July. Then there are all the other layers: the role of the media in influencing public opinion; the way preconceived ideas can lead us to make unfair assumptions; and how personal bias can make two people interpret a situation in completely different ways. The characters don’t have much depth – and we never even really ‘meet’ Onizuka, with our knowledge of her coming mainly from other characters’ conversations – but that didn’t bother me too much in such a short book with so many other things to interest me. There’s also a twist at the end, which leaves us to decide for ourselves what probably happened next!

I would like to read more of Matsumoto’s books. It seems that Tokyo Express is considered his masterpiece, but it’s described as a mystery revolving around train timetables and alibis and I’m not sure how I would get on with that. Should I try it or can anyone recommend another one?

Murder at the Black Cat Cafe by Seishi Yokomizo

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Translated by Bryan Karetnyk

Over the last few years, Pushkin Press have been publishing Seishi Yokomizo’s Kosuke Kindaichi mysteries in new English translations. This is the latest, but I found it different from the previous ones in several ways.

First, where the other books are full-length novels, Murder at the Black Cat Cafe is a novella (this edition also includes another short story, Why Did the Well Wheel Creak?, to make the book more substantial). Yokomizo’s detective, Kosuke Kindaichi, plays a prominent role in the first story, but a very small one in the second – in fact, I wouldn’t really call that one a Kindaichi mystery at all as he only appears right at the end. Both stories belong to the type Yokomizo refers to in the prologue as ‘faceless corpse’ mysteries – in other words, where the murder victim has had their face destroyed so they can’t be identified.

The other main difference is in the setting. Usually the Kindaichi mysteries are set in rural Japan – a small village, a country house, a remote island – but Murder at the Black Cat Cafe has a city setting: Tokyo’s red-light district, an area known as the Pink Labyrinth. First published in 1947, the story takes place just after the war and begins with a policeman on patrol discovering the faceless body of a woman in the garden of the Black Cat Cafe, an establishment owned until very recently by the Itojimas, who have just sold it and moved away. Beside the corpse is the body of a black cat, which has also been killed. It’s assumed that the cat is the famous mascot of the Cafe – until the Cafe’s black cat emerges alive and well. Where did the other cat come from and who is the dead woman?

I enjoyed the post-war urban setting, but with the second story, Why Did the Well Wheel Creak?, we are back on more familiar ground with a family living in a remote village. The patriarch, Daizaburo, has two sons – one legitimate and one illegitimate – who are almost identical apart from their eyes. When both young men go to war and only one returns alive, having lost both eyes, questions begin to be asked. Is this man who he says he is or could he be pretending to be his brother?

Both of these stories, then, feature mistaken or stolen identities and people who may or may not be impostors and both have enough twists and turns to keep the reader guessing until the truth is revealed. The first one was probably the stronger mystery, but I did enjoy the second one as well and liked the way the story unfolded through letters sent from a sister to her brother. I’m already looking forward to the next Kindaichi book, She Walks at Night, coming next year.

Thanks to Pushkin Vertigo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 2 for RIP XX

Strange Houses by Uketsu

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“I can’t tell you how many people have told me their scary house stories.

But none of them can compare to the houses in this story. These strange, strange houses.”

I loved Uketsu’s Strange Pictures when I read it earlier this year, so I was excited to see another of his books, Strange Houses, available on NetGalley. Like the first book, this one has been translated into English from the original Japanese by translator Jim Rion. Also like the first book, it contains a number of illustrations and diagrams that form an important part of the story.

The novel begins with our narrator, a freelance writer, being approached by his friend Yanaoka, who is searching for a suitable house in which he and his wife can raise their first child. Having viewed a house in a quiet residential area of Tokyo, Yanaoka and his wife have both fallen in love with it but are confused by the floor plan which shows a ‘dead space’ – in other words, a tiny hidden room with no doors. The narrator has another friend, Kurihara, who is an architect, so he decides to ask his opinion.

When Kurihara studies the floor plans, he picks up on several other unusual features of the house. These, together with the hidden room, lead him to form a bizarre but terrifyingly logical explanation for the design of the building. Yanaoka chooses not to buy it, but the narrator is intrigued and continues digging into the house’s history, uncovering connections with some other equally strange houses!

I really enjoyed the first half of this book, almost as much as Strange Pictures. It has a similarly interactive feel, where we are encouraged to look at the illustrations and identify the clues in them along with the narrator. Although Kurihara’s theory about the design of the Tokyo house seems ridiculously far-fetched, it does also make sense when you consider the layout of the rooms, the positions of doors and windows and the location of the house itself. I would never have imagined that floor plans could be creepy, but the ones in this book certainly are!

A difference between this book and Strange Pictures is that the other book is made up of several separate but interconnected stories, while this one consists of just one plot and one set of characters. The change in format means this book feels less varied and innovative, but it also allows us to follow the story of one family – the family who built the houses – through to the end. In the second half of the book, the focus moves away slightly from the plans and layouts and concentrates more on the history of the family. Things become quite convoluted, with complex relationships between the family members, rivalries between different branches and tales of curses and traditions going back several generations. I was reminded of Seishi Yokomizo’s mystery novels and I wonder if these, as well as Yukito Ayatsuji’s Bizarre House series, have influenced Uketsu.

In an interview, translator Jim Rion has talked about how Uketsu wants his writing to be easy to read and accessible to all readers and I think Rion has done a great job of keeping that same clarity in his translations. I’ve also discovered that a third book, Strange Buildings, is coming soon. Something to look forward to!

Thanks to Pushkin Vertigo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 6/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

The Little Sparrow Murders by Seishi Yokomizo

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Translated by Bryan Karetnyk

I’ve read all five of Seishi Yokomizo’s Kosuke Kindaichi mysteries that have previously been published by Pushkin Press in new English translations. This is the sixth, with another due later this year, and I decided to read it for the Japanese Literature Challenge being hosted this month and next by Dolce Bellezza.

The Little Sparrow Murders was originally published in Japanese in 1959 and is set a few years earlier in the village of Onikobe in Okayama Prefecture. Private detective Kosuke Kindaichi is taking a break from crime-solving and has decided to travel to Okayama to visit his old friend, Inspector Isokawa, at the prefectural police headquarters. Isokawa gives him the address of a nearby inn to stay at, run by Rika Aoike, a widowed friend. Although Kindaichi had been hoping to relax and avoid any mysteries for a while, he finds himself drawn into one when he learns that Rika’s husband, Genjiro, was murdered twenty years earlier – and the killer was never found.

As Kindaichi hears more about the events before and after Genjiro’s death and gets to know some of the people involved, another murder takes place, coinciding with the disappearance of the village chieftain and a sighting of a mysterious old woman on a mountain path. It seems that Kindaichi’s relaxing break is over before it even started. He and Isokawa begin to investigate, convinced that the key to the present day mystery lies in determining what really happened to Rika’s husband all those years ago.

Having read a lot of older Japanese crime novels over the last few years, thanks mainly to Pushkin who are doing a wonderful job with their new translations, I’ve found that many of them – most notably the ones I’ve read by Yukito Ayatsuji and Soji Shimada – are more concerned with solving seemingly impossible crimes and complex puzzles than with characters and motives. Yokomizo, I think, usually finds a better balance between the two; although his books still have intricate plots, the focus is often not so much on working out how the murders were committed, but rather on why they were committed and who could have had a reason for doing so. The impossible crime books can sometimes be fun as well, but I personally prefer the more character-driven ones. In this particular novel, the murders take place out in the open, not in locked rooms, and there’s almost no discussion of alibis, timings or similar things that can sometimes bog down a plot.

One thing I loved about The Little Sparrow Murders is that Yokomizo builds the story around a children’s rhyme – a device that Agatha Christie also often used. The killer in this novel is inspired by a temari song (a song sung by children in Japan while bouncing colourful embroidered temari balls). It begins “In the trees in the garden behind our house, Three little sparrows came to stay” and goes on to describe three young women from different families, who were “all of them sent away” – in other words, murdered. The deaths in the book correspond to the rhyme, which adds some extra interest to the mystery. I hadn’t heard of temari songs or balls before so, as always, a Yokomizo novel has contributed to my knowledge of Japanese culture.

This is one of my favourite Yokomizo novels so far, along with The Honjin Murders and The Inugami Curse, but I did have one problem with it – trying to keep track of the huge number of characters! There are five families in the book and it’s not easy to remember which family each character belongs to and how they’re connected to people in the other families. If you’re reading the ebook version (or maybe even if you’re not), I recommend taking the time to draw some family trees using the character list at the front of the book before you start, then you can easily refer to them as you read. I would have been lost otherwise, I think.

I’m now looking forward to the next Yokomizo book, Murder at the Black Cat Café, coming in September. Pushkin Vertigo also have another Ayatsuji novel, The Clock House Murders, on the way, as well as others by authors I haven’t tried yet, so 2025 should be a good year if you’re a fan of Japanese mysteries!

The Meiji Guillotine Murders by Futaro Yamada

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Translated by Bryan Karetnyk

It’s 1869 and Japan has entered the Meiji era. The Tokugawa shogunate has fallen and the Emperor Meiji has been restored to the throne. After centuries of isolation, Japan is finally opening up to foreign trade and undergoing social, industrial and military reform. In Tokyo, a group of corrupt rasotsu (policemen) have found ways to exploit this period of change and upheaval for their own gain. With the arrival of two Chief Inspectors from the Imperial Prosecuting Office, Kawaji and Kazuki, it seems that the rasotsu will be forced to mend their ways – although the two men have other things to occupy their time as well as dealing with corruption.

With a number of bizarre murders taking place around Tokyo, Kazuki and Kawaji (based on a real person who is considered the founder of Japan’s modern police system) engage in a friendly competition to see who can solve the crimes first. A separate chapter is devoted to each case, which at first seem to be unrelated, making the book feel almost like a collection of short stories. There are five cases for the two detectives to solve, with the help of Esmeralda, a young Frenchwoman from a family of executioners whom Kazuki has brought to Japan along with that most deadly of French weapons: the guillotine. Despite the title, the guillotine is not necessarily used to carry out all of the murders in the book, but it represents the changes that Japan is experiencing as the country becomes exposed to modern, western influence. It also provides a reason for Esmeralda’s presence in Tokyo, which is important as she has a significant role to play in the solving of the mysteries.

The Meiji Guillotine Murders was first published in 1979 and is one of several Japanese crime novels that have recently been made available in English by Pushkin Press. However, although I’ve loved some of the others, I didn’t enjoy this one quite as much. Bryan Karetnyk’s translation is clear and readable (I’m already familiar with his work through some of his other translated novels), but I had problems with other aspects of the book. I struggled with the number of characters, particularly as so few of them have clearly defined personalities and with more and more of them being introduced with each new case the detectives investigate. My lack of engagement with the characters made it difficult for me to concentrate on following the plot, which is important as all of the separate cases are quite complex and you do need to be paying attention! I persevered and was rewarded with the final section of the book where, after some surprising twists and turns, everything is tied together perfectly.

I did like the historical setting of the book and felt I was learning a lot about Japan during the Meiji era. At times it seemed more like historical fiction than a murder mystery, which was fine with me, but I think someone picking the book up expecting a more traditional crime novel may be surprised by the amount of historical detail. It’s an interesting, unusual book, and although I’m not sure whether I would read any more by Yamada, I do hope more of them are translated into English for those readers who loved this one. I’m enjoying discovering Japanese crime authors through Pushkin and so far my favourites have been Seishi Yokomizo and Akimitsu Takagi.

Thanks to Pushkin Vertigo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 7/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

Book 24/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Noh Mask Murder by Akimitsu Takagi

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Translated by Jesse Kirkwood

My 20 Books of Summer reading is off to a good start with this 1949 Japanese locked room mystery, now available from Pushkin Press in a new English translation. Thanks to Pushkin, I’ve been able to try several Japanese classic crime authors over the last few years, including Seishi Yokomizo, Yukito Ayatsuji and Soji Shimada. The Noh Mask Murder is the first book I’ve read by Akimitsu Takagi and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The novel opens with a discussion between Koichi Yanagi, a chemist who has recently returned to Japan after serving in Burma during the war, and his old school friend, Akimitsu Takagi (yes, the author himself, who appears as a character in his own novel – just like Anthony Horowitz in his Horowitz and Hawthorne series). Akimitsu explains to Koichi that he wants to write a new kind of detective novel, one based on a mystery he has solved for himself in real life:

‘I’d tackle some fiendish real-life mystery, then set down precisely how I solved it in the form of a novel. My readers would be provided with the exact same evidence as the author. They’d be able to follow the detective-narrator’s train of thought, assess the appropriateness of his actions – and even come up with their own alternatives. But I don’t imagine an opportunity like that will ever present itself…’

His opportunity comes sooner than he had imagined when Koichi stumbles upon a mystery at the Chizui family mansion, where he has been staying since returning from the war. The head of the household, Professor Chizui, who was once a friend of Koichi’s, died ten years earlier and the house is now inhabited by his two children and the family of his younger brother, Tajiro. The first sign that something is wrong within the Chizui mansion comes when an eerie figure wearing a sinister Noh mask is seen at one of the windows. Soon after this, Tajiro is found dead inside a locked room, with a smell of jasmine in the air and a Noh mask lying on the floor beside him. Akimitsu Takagi joins Koichi at the house to investigate the murder, but when they discover that someone has called the undertaker to order three coffins, it seems that there’s going to be more than just one murder to investigate!

The mystery is a fascinating one and although some time is spent discussing the mechanisms of how the locked room murder took place, the story never becomes too bogged down by the puzzle aspect; the focus is on the characters, their relationships and their motives. I did find the structure slightly confusing at times as we know we’re reading a book within a book written by Akimitsu Takagi (as both character and author), but within that there’s a journal written by Koichi and a long letter written by Hiroyuki Ishikari, the public prosecutor, so the narrative is sometimes three layers deep. There are some clever twists towards the end, however, which might not have worked if it had been structured differently.

Apart from the mystery, I found it interesting to learn about the different types of mask used in Japanese theatre and how although the Noh mask, which represents a demon, cannot change expression the actors can still use it to show various emotions by tilting the mask up and down and by the clever use of lighting. With the story being set in the post-war period, it’s also interesting to hear the characters reflect on the irony of being so concerned with the death of one person after living through a war in which millions died. If you kill a man in peacetime you’re considered a murderer, says Tajiro’s son, Rintaro, but if you kill a man on the battlefield you’re given a medal.

I really enjoyed The Noh Mask Murder, then, but be warned – in the prologue, where Takagi is discussing his plans for a detective novel, he casually spoils the solution of Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Not a problem for me as I’ve already read it, but I wish authors wouldn’t do that!

Thanks to Pushkin Vertigo for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 1/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.