What is it that you enjoy most about crime fiction? Is it the complexity of the mystery itself, or is it following an eccentric detective as they piece together what happened? Is it the personalities of the suspects themselves, or is it the locations – either far off, exotic shores or something closer to home? My favourite crime novels usually play with all of these elements, and possibly more if it is brave enough to get a little gruesome. Seishi Yokomizo definitely wasn’t afraid to push the envelope when he wrote his series of 77 books following Kosuke Kindaichi, known in the UK as the Detective Kindaichi Mysteries. I was ensnared from the very first entry in this series, The Honjin Murders. Yokomizo defied all my expectations and assumptions about the genre (which is always a welcome reaction) and every subsequent entry has impressed me more than the last, leaving me waiting for the release of every next translation with increased anticipation.
I am by-no-means an authority on detective stories, as much as I love them. I’ve surveyed Sherlock Holmes, dabbled in Dupin, been pleased with Poirot and very recently met Miss Marple. Yet there is something about Yokomizo’s writing that feels perfect, but effortlessly so – ticking every box, without ever letting me realise that the boxes were there to begin with.
A Time and a Place for Everything
Kindaichi occupies a very particular space in time – I’ve read the first 4 stories so far, and all are set on the very fringes of World War II, with book one being pre-war and the rest being post-war. This very specific, precarious moment in history lends each story a subtext that creates deliciously complex implications for victim, suspect and detective alike. Post-war Japan obviously hosted completely different sentiments to the post-war England I am familiar with, which I’ve seen most commonly in Agatha Christie’s novels. However, where Christie often seems to centre around the sentiment of reconstruction and a struggled return to the norm, Yokomizo instead features themes of desperation, fallen pride and ruined families as a direct result of the war.
While both authors write of each country being in a state of damage and recovery, Yokomizo is far less shy about showing the ruinous parts of the country, and though many of the stories are set in the countryside mansions of the rich, dilapidated and derelict buildings are often not far away, usually deliberately hidden and therefore pivotal to revealing a previously unknown facet of the mystery. Abandoned tunnel systems, deserted pirate fortresses – Yokomizo makes a show of confronting secrets such as these, and the terrible crimes committed to conceal them. Indeed, the crimes themselves are horrific, and the murderers are bolder, willing to go the furthest lengths in their desperation. While you may be used to the sneaky and subdued killings of Christie’s villains, committed by poisoners, gunmen and backstabbers, Kindaichi contends with slayings that range from morbidly fascinating to exceedingly inventive.
Island Geography
Beyond the broader location of Japan, the specific scene-settings are unique book-to-book, for the most part. It is very much a trope of the genre at this point for murder mysteries to be set in large mansions with dubious histories, and the Kindaichi Mysteries are not an exception, with the very first entry being set in a ‘honjin’, an old inn for the Japanese nobility. Even modern crime fiction does not tend to deviate from this much, with books such as The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle embracing the mansion setting enough to make the location itself a ‘character’, something for the main character to scrutinise and master. However Yokomizo is careful to ensure the type of home and specific location always feel important to the plot without becoming a gimmick. The ‘honjin’ location informs the reader of the strange history and status of the family which the novel centers around, while the specific room within the honjin where the murder occurs is a functional setting, in that it is the basis for a ‘locked room’ mystery.
In The Village of Eight Graves, the tragic mythology associated with the graves for which the village takes its name serves as the foundation of much of the conflict that triggers the murder in this novel. Without spoiling anything, the locations in this novel are crucial to creating ambiguity around the killers movements and motives, and therefore creates both ambience and an extra layer for Kindaichi/the reader to untangle. This is similar to Death on Gokumon Island which features extensive scenes where characters are literally timing how quickly the killer could have moved from point A to point B – Yokomizo makes the reader very aware of the geography of each of his locations, not only to complicate the crime but also to ensure total comprehension of the situation, giving us as much information as possible as though he is totally confident we still will not guess the perpetrator.
The Man Himself
Kosuke Kindaichi defies the typical detective archetype – in many ways he is the antithesis of my favourite detectives. He does not have the neatness of Hercule Poirot, instead opting for a scruffy mop of hair, wrinkled kimono and misshapen hat. He is not quite as manic as Sherlock Holmes, nor as impulsive and blunt. Though he is a little better socially, his trademark stutter and nervous head scratch do not put him on quite the same level of charm as the charismatic Miss Marple. All of this makes Detective Kindaichi possibly the most endearing of the bunch; an excellent detective who is a little rough around the edges, never too proud to help but quietly confident in his own ability to find the bad guy. And it is not just us as readers who find Kindaichi lovable, as the rest of the ‘cast’ frequently find it easy to confide and rely on our dependable detective. This means that the other characters are very rarely an afterthought, but are instead as considerately crafted as some of my favourite, more character driven novels. They have distinct personalities and feel like real, fleshed out people rather than stock suspects and victims, which makes the crimes they commit and fall prey to all the more compelling.
Conclusion
These are just a few reasons why this series has pulled me in so rapidly, but actually it is difficult to pinpoint what exactly makes these books so special. I know they aren’t exactly a secret, but in the interest of highlighting as many potential ‘hidden gems’ as I can, I implore you to give this series a try if you are in the mood for something a little different. Yokomizo’s style of writing seems to have hit that sweet spot for me, where it is sufficiently dramatic to grasp my attention while somehow avoiding many of the usual cliches. It contains the most absurd situations, locations and characters, yet presents them in such a sincere, expressive way that it becomes the most entertaining thing to read. In this way, it treads the line between pageantry and reality. It is unpredictable yet is so carefully contrived and in such earnest that by the end, I am convinced that the author never misplaced a clue and never wasted a word.
Have you read any of the Kindaichi Mysteries? What is your favourite crime series/novel? Let me know in the comments below!
