The Noh Mask Murder (1949) by Akimitsu Takagi

Now, the perceptive among you may have noticed my love for the Japanese detective novels of the shin honkaku school, simply neo-classical or neo-orthodox in English, but not to be overlooked are their original, often Western influenced honkaku fore bearers – which sadly have been overlooked by the translation wave. For the longest time, the only available honkaku works were some short stories by Edogawa Rampo, Akimitsu Takagi's Shisei satusjin jiken (The Tattoo Murder Case, 1948), Seishi Yokomizo's Inugamike no ichizoku (The Inugami Clan, 1951) and two collections of short stories from Okamoto Kido and Keikichi Osaka. Pushkin Vertigo is slowly correcting that oversight.

In 2019, they published a long-awaited, second Yokomizo translation, Honjin satsujin jiken (The Honjin Murders, 1946), which was the first of currently half a dozen new translations. Pushkin Vertigo's run of Yokomizo translations is for a fan of Golden Age detective fiction akin to opening Tutankhamun's sealed tomb. A veritable treasure room of previously inaccessible Golden Age gems! Well, to me anyway. I loved Gokumontou (Death on Gokumon Island, 1947/48), Akuma ga kitarite fue o fuku (The Devil's Flute Murders, 1951/53) and Yokomizo's locked room classic, The Honjin Murders.

So it was promising when they expanded their honkaku catalog by reprinting Takagi's The Tattoo Murder Case, shortened to The Tattoo Murder, because it implied a new translation was likely somewhere in the pipeline. Every time Pushkin Vertigo reprints an older translation, they follow up with one, or more, new translations from the same author – like they did with Soji Shimada and Yukito Ayatsuji. My little observational deduction proved to be correct and an English translation of Takagi's second novel was announced as forthcoming last year.

Nomen satsujin jiken (The Noh Mask Murder, 1949), translated by Jesse Kirkwood, is Akimitsu Takagi's second novel, but not a sequel to The Tattoo Murder Case that introduced his series-detective, Kyosuke Kamizu. The Noh Mask Murders is a standalone novel starring Akimitsu Takagi himself, his friend Koichi Yanagi and a public prosecutor, Hiroyuki Ishikari. Just like real-life counterpart, the fictional Takagi abondoned metallurgy to devote himself to writing "reading detective novels from around the world" who "fancied himself an amateur investigator" and pined for an opportunity "to put his deductive skills to practical use." And use it to write a firsthand account-style detective novel. His friends hands him exactly such an opportunity. After the war, Koichi Yanagi returned to Japan without a job or place to stay, but found a place when the Chizui family kindly opened their home to the returning soldier. However, the Chizui family is not what they appear on the outside.

Akimitsu (both the author and character) obviously admired S.S. van Dine and The Greene Murder Case (1928) is referenced several times. Not wholly without reason. The family depicted in The Noh Mask Murder make the dysfunctional Greenes appear relatively normal.

Taijiro Chizui became the head of the family after his brother, Professor Soichiro Chizui, died from a heart attack after getting injured in an experiment ("...a glass flask exploded"), which left him bedridden before his heart gave out. So the family of his brother moved into the mansion, but Yanagi confides in Ishikari that there's "something deeply wrong" with Taijiro's branch of the Chizui clan. Taijiro is consumed by greed who would do anything to satisfy his lust for wealth, perhaps even murder. His oldest son, Rintaro is "a terrifying nihilist" to whom "justice and morality are no more than intellectual games." Yojiro is not as overtly crazy as his father or brother, but "a snake only ever begets a snake." Sawako is their sister who appears to be the most normal of the lot, but who knows what years among her crazy, half-invalided relatives have done to her. Such as Taijiro's mother, Sonoe, whose right side of her body paralyzed with palsy, which did nothing to blunt her fierce temper. And then there are the remnants of Professor Chizui's branch of the family. After he passed away, his wife lost her mind and has been a resident patient of the Oka Asylum, in Tokyo, for the past ten years and she not alone as their daughter, Hisako, "unravelled completely" – reason behind her insanity is really unsettling. Finally, there's the professor's 14-year-old son, Kenkichi, who's dying from an incurable heart disease ("...surely his days were now numbered").

So a cozy, happy little household, to say the least, which also houses a Noh mask, "said to harbour a two-hundred-year-old curse," sealed away in glass case. Someone is wandering around the mansion wearing the mask. Yanagi and Hiroyuki Ishikari even spot the mask starring at them from an upstairs window of the mansion on one of its walkabouts. Yanagi decided this is exactly to type of case his old school friend, Akimitsu, wanted to test his detective skills ("...fancies himself Japan's answer to Philo Vance"). Shortly after his arrival, Taijiro dies in his room without a mark on his body with the door and windows securely locked from the inside. The demonic Noh mask is lying on the floor and there's the fragrance of jasmine lingering around the body. Even more curious and ominous, someone called an undertaker to have three coffins delivered to the mansion.

The investigation is told as a retrospective account as imagined by Akimitsu in the opening chapters ("...a new type of detective novel, unprecedented anywhere in the world"), but journal is written by Yanagi. Not Akimitsu! Just one of the many twists and turns the plot takes as the body count begins to rise.

If you know anything about my taste, you know The Noh Mask Murder is right up my alley. And not always for the obvious reason. First things, first. Ho-Ling reviewed The Noh Mask Murder all the way back in 2011 acknowledging its historical importance and original locked room-trick, but thought it spoiled and borrowed too much. I agree it bluntly spoiled a few very famous detective novels, however, it didn't lazily borrow from them. Just modeled and tried to improve on certain ideas with various degrees of success. The Noh Mask Murder, as a whole, essentially improves on Van Dine's The Greene Murder Case ("the holocaust that consumed the Greene family"), which is not a spoiler as the opening states "before long, the entire illustrious family had reached its demise" in addition to several references to the novel. Reason why it worked better here is that Akimitsu didn't structure it like a last-man-standing-did-it process of elimination, but as a genuine, fairly clued detective story – marred only by using a well-worn idea as the main thrust of the plot. Something the seasoned mystery reader is certain to pick upon, but even then the ending has a final twist of the knife in store. And then there's the solution to the locked room murder.

While the explanation really needed a diagram, it's easier to follow than the locked room-trick from The Tattoo Murder Case and one part of the trick is very pleasing to visualize. A dab of artistry to an otherwise technical locked room-trick, but really good for such a type of locked room mystery. More importantly, the historical significance of The Noh Mask Murder and other translations of original honkaku mysteries is greater than Ho-Ling gave it credit for, even more so today than in 2011.

Firstly, the translations of Takagi and Yokomizo novels beautifully complement the shin honkaku translations, because they give Western readers a sample of what that movement used as a foundation to build upon and expand. Secondly, the importance and influence of the translation wave on the budding Golden Age/locked room revival, which is a fantastic example of something coming full circle. A hundred years ago, Rampo introduced Japan to the Western-style detective story that inspired writers, like Takagi and Yokomizo, to create a local variation on the great American and British Golden Age detectives. After the Second World War, the traditional detective story fell into decline in both sides, until Shimada revived it in the early 1980s and inspired an entire movement that revitalized the traditional-style, fair play detective story – showing you can teach an old dog new tricks. The movement is still going strong today, working hard on their third Golden Age, while spreading its influence across Asia and even the West. Ever since the English debut of Ayatsuji's Jukkakukan no satusjin (The Decagon House Murders, 1987) started the translation wave in earnest, the shin honkaku-style has left its traces on Western (locked room) mystery writers. For example, James Scott Byrnside (The Strange Case of the Barrington Hills Vampire, 2020), A. Carver (The Author is Dead, 2022), Jim Noy (The Red Death Murders, 2022) and especially H.M. Faust (Gospel of V, 2023). So to see all of this coming full circle with beloved, classically-styled locked room mystery is both incredibly pleasing and the historical cherry on top of an otherwise already excellent detective novel. If this exchange of ideas between Western and Japanese mystery writers is not unique, it is at least something special for us and should be treasured.

So, simply as a (locked room) mystery novel, The Noh Mask Murder has practically nothing to really complain about. The inclusion of a diagram, floor plan and perhaps a family tree (I'm bad with Japanese names) would have improved the story even further, but if the only, very minor, complaint is a stylistic one, there's really not much to seriously complain about. The Noh Mask Murder comes highly recommended as a genuine, previously inaccessible, Golden Age locked room mystery. A good one at that. More please!

A note for curious publishers: if anyone from Pushkin Vertigo or another publisher stumbles across this post, I compiled a "Top 10 Non-English Detective Novels That Need to Be Translated" that warrants a look. Just a suggestion. ;)

The Tattoo Murder Case (1948) by Akimitsu Takagi

Over the past nine months, I've read and reread a spate of Japanese detective novels and short stories by such mystery writers as Takemaru Abiko, Rintaro Norizuki, Edogawa Rampo, Soji Shimada and the man with the palindromic name, "NisiOisiN" – coming in addition of my regular reading of manga series like Case Closed, The Kindaichi Case Files and Q.E.D. So why not continue this trend and revisit a particular title I wanted to reread ever since reading John Russell Fearn's The Tattoo Murders (1949).

"Akimitsu Takagi" was the penname of Seiichi Takagi and worked for the Nakajima Aircraft Company during the Second World War, but lost his position when the company had to close down when the Occupational Military Government (US) banned all military industries in Japan. Reportedly, Takagi decided to become a writer on the advice of a fortune-teller.

So, along with his contemporaries, Tetsuya Ayukawa and Seishi Yokomizo, Takagi became one of the pioneers of the original, distinctly Japanese honkaku-style of detective fiction.

Shisei satsujin jiken (The Tattoo Murder Case, 1948) is, as Ho-Ling Wong perfectly described it in his own review, "a surprisingly well-polished debut novel" takes place against the backdrop of the messy, bombed-out ruins, shuttered buildings and makeshift shops of post-war Tokyo – where "ragged crowds" meander aimlessly and mingle with American soldiers. After sunset, the rubble-strewn streets "teemed with prostitutes, petty criminals and vagabonds" with occasional gunshot shattering the "uneasy silence of the night." However, the plot is deeply rooted in that "shadowy, sensual world" of tattoos and this is "the tragic story of three of those tattoos."

Horiyasu was a famous tattoo master with three children, Kinue, Tamae and Tsunetaro, two daughters and a son, who he tattooed with one of the most taboo of all tattoos, the Three Curses.

The Three Curses is the legendary tale of three sorcerers, Tsunedahime, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru, who lived in the depths of Mount Togakushi, in Nagano Prefecture, where they competed "to see who could create the wickedest, most powerful spells." Sorcerers are closely associated with three large creatures: Tsunedahime rides on an enormous slug, Jiraiya on a giant toad and Orochimaru has a huge, long snake. According to the superstition, the tattooing of a snake, a toad and slug on the people with the same blood flowing through their veins, like siblings, "the three creatures would fight to the death" – which means Horiyasu placed a deadly curse on his three children. Tamae and Tsunetaro were killed in the war. Kinue has no reason to be believe her full-body, Orochimaru tattoo will allow her to live a long, prosperous live.

Professor Heishiro Hayakawa is better known as "Doctor Tattoo" and is the curator of the beautifully macabre collection of "vividly colored, intricately-tattooed skins hanging on the walls" or "suspended from the ceiling" in the Specimen Room of Tokyo University. Professor Hayakawa works hard to expend the collection and considers Kinue's tattoo to be a national treasure, wishing to preserve it for posterity, but she keeps turning down the old "skin-peeler." Uncharacteristically, Kinue takes part in a competition of the first post-war meeting of the Edo Tattoo Society and there she meets Kenzo Matsushita.

Kenzo Matsushita is a graduate student at the medical school of Tokyo University, where he studies forensic medicine to eventually join the police medical staff, because his older brother is Detective Chief Inspector Daiyu Matsushita of the Metropolitan Police Department. So he attended the exhibition purely out professional curiosity and bumps into an old high-school friend, Hisashi Mogami, whose brother, Takezo, is married to Kinue and their uncle is Professor Hayakawa! And this is where the trouble really begins. Kenzo falls hard for Kinue, as if "bewitched by foxes," and they begin a short-lived, but passionate, relationship cut short by her murder.

Kenzo and Professor Hayakawa find, whatever remained, of Kinue in her bathroom: a severed head, two forearms and two long legs from the knees down were laid out on the tile floor, but the body's torso was missing and the murderer apparently vanished into thin air – because the horizontal bar on the door was firmly pushed in place and the window was tightly locked from the inside. A murder as gruesome as it's utterly impossible!

I first read The Tattoo Murder Case in 2006, or 2007, which was one of my first Japanese detective novels and remember liking it, but the book has gotten its share of criticism over the years. A notable example is the tepid, two-star review by "JJ," of The Invisible Event, who called the book a mix bag. So this was another reason why I wanted to reread the book. Honestly, I liked the book on my first reading, but loved it the second time around (sorry, JJ!). The Tattoo Murder Case is such a fascinating, richly detailed and smartly plotted detective story. That being said, some of the criticism is not entirely unfounded.

Firstly, the solution to the locked room puzzle is a mechanical variation on an age-old trick and recalls an impossible crime from a well-known American writer, which was handicapped by being poorly motivated (you had a point there, JJ). Nonetheless, I thought it was a clever variation that made good use of the bathroom setting. Ho-Ling pointed out in his previously mentioned review that the impossible crime element is historically important, because the story is set in a Japanese-style house that "pre-war critics thought to be unsuitable for locked room mysteries" and The Tattoo Murder Case was one of the first counter arguments.

The explanation as to how the murderer removed the tattooed torso from the locked bathroom even had a glimmer of Chestertonian brilliance!

Secondly, the story is, while not great, competently plotted with some genuinely inspired bits and pieces, but weren't always utilized to their full potential – showing a promising, but inexperienced, mystery writer. A good example is the back-story of the cursed tattoos and how the murder is supposed to look like the fulfillment of a curse, but this aspect is never played up. This would have been a very different story in the hands of John Dickson Carr, Paul Halter or Hake Talbot! Another problem is that the small selection of Japanese mysteries available in English comprises largely of novels with often more ambitious, better executed and original plots. If I would compile a top 10 of translations, The Tattoo Murder Case would be in the bottom five, but still good enough to make the top 10.

Takagi didn't simply use "the world of sharp needles and vermilion ink" as an immersive, vividly colored canvas to play out a detective story in front, like a stage set, but the history and superstitions of this world provided clues, answers and even clever bit of misdirection to the plot. Particularly the historical bits, character backstories and the outside, post-war malaise that had shattered the old order makes for engrossing reading. Another point of historical interest is the detective of the story, Kyosuke Kamizu, who appears very late in the game.

Two months later, the murder of Kinue remains unsolved and two additional bodies have been found in abandoned and burned-out buildings. So Kenzo decides to consult an old school chum, Kyosuke Kamizu, who as a youth of nineteen spoke six foreign languages and was christened by his fellow students "Boy Genius" – a nickname he always despised. Now he does special research in forensic medicine at the Tokyo University Medical School. Kyosuke appears to have been created as a younger and more likable version of S.S. van Dine's Philo Vance, but I recognized in him a rough prototype of the high-school/university student detectives that dominate so many anime-and manga mystery series.

Kyosuke makes quick work of the locked room problem and solves the whole case in the last one-hundred pages with his pet theory of "criminal economics." A satisfactorily conclusion to a (historically) engrossing detective story.

The Tattoo Murder Case is a mystery rich in history with an, especially at the time, original and a well-done plot, which has since been overshadowed by translations of his shin honkaku decedents. But that only adds to the story's historical importance and interest. If I were to compile a Haycraft-Queen-like Cornerstones of the Locked Room Mystery, The Tattoo Murder Case would be on it. So, long story short, I really liked it.