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What’s it all about?
A bestselling and internationally acclaimed masterpiece of the locked-room mystery genre
Why did I want to read it?
I have read some Japanese crime fiction before (this, for example) but came to The Tokyo Zodiac Murders via my recent intense interest in the Golden Age of Crime Fiction.
Although the some would say that the GACF died out in the UK (not me, it seems alive and well) the traditional forms were preserved in Japan in the form of Honkaku mysteries, where old-fashioned plot devices etc. are used in a modern setting.
Specifically, these works are determined to play fair with the reader, giving all of the information necessary to solve the crime at the centre of each story.
Here endeth the lesson.
Thoughts?
It is a very strange but utterly convincing book. I actually went off and checked whether these murders were real because the first section sets out the details alongside some new evidence in a way which made me convinced that this was based on a real-life case (which it isn’t).
So we have the back story, and when new evidence comes to light our protagonists head off to investigate this series of grisly murders – one traditional locked room mystery, one bloody home invasion and then the murder and mutilation of six young women who will be found at various sites around Japan which seem to have some form of mystical solution. All of the victims are related, and all but one is a young woman.
At a couple of points in the book the author speaks directly to the reader, stating that all of the information that you would need to solve this mystery has been provided, so basically off you go and come up with a solution before you reach the conclusion.
I won’t go into the plot more than this, because half the fun is in trying to work out what on earth is going on. The answer to how the murders were carried out is ingenious but I think you would need to be Japanese to pick up on one of the clues presented.
I enjoyed reading this very much, and it is clearly an important work in the genre. It has reinforced my interest in Japanese crime fiction and a few more have found their way onto my TBR pile.
My study is nowhere near as tidy as this room!
A quick round up of my reading and book buying for (most of) February 2018. I won’t return to those already covered in my Sunday Salon posts over on The Dowager, but that still leaves an embarrassing amount of new books to note.
Books read = 5. There are a couple I still have to review, but if you are interested in my thoughts on Phase One of #ReadingMuriel2018 then head over to this post.
Books bought since my last post = 11, making a total of 24 bought in February, almost all were Kindle purchases so at least they aren’t taking up valuable floor space. These are:
- The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton
- Murder at the Brightwell by Ashley Weaver
- House of Spines by Michael J Malone
- The Woman in the Water by Charles Finch
- The Chalk Man by CJ Tudor
- Divided Lives by Lyndall Gordon
- The Missing Ones by Patricia Gibney
- Sight by Jessie Greengrass
- A World Gone Mad by Astrid Lundgren
- Dreaming in French by Alice Kaplan
- I’ll Be Gone In The Dark by Michelle McNamara
It is clear that a book buying embargo is probably required 🙂
Also, is anyone else as annoyed as I am by the tendency of Amazon to start putting a book’s description in the title? See the screenshot below. Most irritating.
Pretty pleased with my February haul, now onwards to March.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, Dame Muriel Spark has long been one of my favourite authors and I’m taking part in the commemoration of her centenary this year by reading All of the Things. If you’ve been here long enough you may remember that I tried this before and failed miserably around book 8 out of the 22 novels that she wrote. But I’m determined to finish the project this time around.
Phase 1 took place between 1 January and 28 February and covered the novels she published in the 1950s…..
The Comforters (1957)
My edition is the 1982 Penguin, and I first read this novel in 1984; this is the third time of reading.
Caroline Rose is afflicted by what she calls the Typing Ghost, hearing her thoughts being spoken back to her as if she was the main character in a novel. Is that the case or is she going mad?
I love the waspishness of this novel which basically sets the tone for all of Muriel Sparks books – there is a lot of humour and quite a bit of philosophy, especially here where the very nature of existence is in question. Interestingly, Muriel Spark experienced hallucinations herself at one point due to medication she was taking at the time, though hers manifested themselves as jumbled words on the page which, as she pointed out, would not translate well to a novel. Such a strong and refreshing first book.
Robinson (1958)
My edition is the 2003 New Directions, bought specifically to fill the gaps in my collection when I tried to read all the novels back in 2006; this is the second time of reading.
January Marlowe is writing a journal covering the events of the few months she finds herself stranded on the island of Robinson, owned by a man also known as Robinson. She is there with two other survivors of a plane crash; no-one knows they are alive and they are all awaiting the planned arrival of a ship to tell the world they are OK and help them get back to their lives. But then there appears to have been a murder, and tensions rise as they become suspicious of each other.
I vaguely remembered the plot of this one but for some reason it really resonated with me more the second time around. Even though this is a first person narrative which often screams “unreliable narrator” I really trusted January’s voice. All of the men were downright unpleasant in one way or another so I was rooting for January all the way through. The plot is nice and twisty, which I loved. Of the three, this is the one I can see myself reading again soonest.
Memento Mori (1959)
My edition is the 1979 Penguin, probably one of the first of her books I bought after leaving school (which is where I was introduced to Muriel Spark through the medium of a certain Jean Brodie).
This is the fourth time I have read Memento Mori.
The novel concerns a group of elderly people, (almost) all known to each other and all experiencing the infirmities and complications of their advanced ages. A number of them receive mysterious phone calls where the caller simply states “Remember you must die.” Is this a hoax being carried out by someone they know? Or something more than that?
I first read this when I was 19 and I’m pretty sure that I was deeply impatient with the old folk, with their aches and pains and worries and constant tinkering with their wills and their habit of harking back to things long past. I’m 56 now and I find myself increasingly sympathetic to their plight and anxious for their continued well-being. And in Mrs Pettigrew we have one of Dame Muriel’s wonderfully monstrous women. Still a superb novel.
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So, very pleased to have successfully reached the end of Phase One; looking forward to starting the next group covering her novels from the 1960s. Some of my absolute favourites are in there!
Bride of the Book God 