Murder in Any Language

"It's an imperfect world; always will be, as long as human beings are around. And only a fool thinks there's such a thing as a perfect crime."

- Gil Grissom (Max Allan Collin's The Killing Game, 2005)

The Boekenweek (book week), held each year in March, ever since its inception in 1932, is an annual "week" of ten days that is dedicated to Dutch literature. A well-known writer, who earned his or her place on the printed page, usually Dutch or Flemish, is asked to write a book, as a rule these are novella-length stories, that is presented as a Boekenweekgeschenk (book week gift) to everyone who purchases a book or becomes a member of a library – and in 1973 this honor was bestowed on Bertus Aafjes.

Bertus Aafjes (1914-1993) was a famed poet, novelist and world traveler, but, thanks to that peculiar sense known as hobby deformation, I always associate him with a wonderful series of historical mysteries featuring the venerable and sapient Judge Ooka – an 18th century magistrate who presided over Edo.

Before Aafjes sat down to write the book week gift, he had produced four volumes of Judge Ooka stories and was now commissioned to pen a fifth, however, there was one stipulation: it had to be adaptable for television. This left the poet of crime in somewhat of a quandary, since there were few Asian actors in the Netherlands at the time and therefore the focus of the story had to be somehow on his compatriots. Luckily, there was a stretch of time in Japanese history, known as Rangaku (Dutch learning), when the borders were as tightly closed as the door to Dr. Grimaud's study and the only Europeans who were allowed passage were Dutch traders. During those years, the Dutch enclave of Dejima was there umbilical cord to the outside world and through this contact they kept taps on the Western progress in science and technology – as well as art and literature.

Well, that takes care of one problem and resulted in Een lampion voor een blinde (A Lantern for the Blind, 1973), in which Judge Ooka is en route to Dejima to escort an envoy, De Hofstoet, from the Dutch enclave back to Edo – where they will give their homage to the Shogun. Judge Ooka is a student of Rangaku and this enabled him to communicate with the people in charge of the Dutch factory, however, his studies were not enough to fully prepare him for this meeting. Big portions of the first half of this novella concern themselves with contrasting Dutch with Japanese culture and they are engrossing if you enjoy history, but this is, after all, a detective story and soon the first problem arrives at the horizon – and it's not Commadore Perry's ship.

The last ship that arrived from Amsterdam, De Liefde, brought two heelmeesters (surgeons), the experienced Bading and the young Oranje, and one of them will be appointed as surgeon in Japan – while the other will be shipped off to a settlement in Siam. However, they both want to stay in Japan and each claimed that the other stole a letter, during their voyage, which confirmed their position as surgeon on Dejima and destroyed it. This makes it impossible to establish who's telling the truth and the decision is now up to the Opperhoofd, Captain Simon Slingeland, nicknamed The Red Oni from Holland, when they reach Edo, but the silent rivalry between the surgeons has set the tone for their journey – and during one of their first dinners Ooka makes a terrible mistake that will result in the death of one of them.

One night, Ooka tells them how he hanged two murderers on the eye-witness testimony of a blind woman and this immediately prompted an observation from the surgeons how they could've committed the perfect murder – if only they had known that the woman was blind. The judge realizes that he has made a horrible mistake, but is unable to prevent a murder. Nevertheless, when it happens even he's surprised at the devilish ingenuity on the part of the killer. It's not Oranje or Bading who was felled with a bullet, but the Opperhoofd, Slingeland, and Bading accuse Oranje of the foul deed backed up with the testimony of a blind maid. 

The girl was unable to understand what was said before the shot was fired, since they spoke Dutch, but she recognized the voice and mannerism of Oranje. You can probably guess what scheme Bading had in mind, but the best part is that nobody was really fooled and knew, or suspects, what really happened. But it's impossible to proof. The perfect crime! And the only disappointing part of the story is, perhaps, that Ooka resorted to a bluff to ensnarl the murderer instead of hatching one his Machiavellian traps, but let's not split hairs over a minor imperfection in an otherwise engrossing and charming story. 

Een lampion voor een blinde is not only one of my favorite Dutch detective stories, but also one of the best inverted mysteries, set during a very interesting period in history, I read and deserves to be translated – along side all those wonderful short stories.

This is the second book reviewed for the 2012 Vintage Mystery Challenge: Dutch Delinquencies:

My VMC2012 list: 

Een lampion voor een blinde (A Lantern for the Blind, 1973) by Bertus Aafjes

De moord op Anna Bentveld (The Murder of Anna Bentveld, 1967) by Appie Baantjer

De onbekende medespeler (The Unknown Player, 1931) by Willy Corsari
Voetstappen op de trap (Footsteps on the Stairs, 1937) by Willy Corsari

Een linkerbeen gezocht (Wanted: A Left Leg, 1935) by F.R. Eckmar

Spoken te koop (Spooks for Sale, 1936) by F.R. Eckmar
Dood in schemer (Death at Twilight, 1954) by W.H. van Eemlandt

Fantoom in Foe-lai (The Chinese Gold Murders, 1959) by Robert van Gulik

Het mysterie van St. Eustache (The Mystery of St. Eustache, 1935) by Havank

Klavertje moord (Four-Leaf Murder, 1986) by Theo Joekes

Het geheim van de tempelruïne (The Secret of the Temple Ruins, 1946) by Boekan Saja

I also reviewed one of the short story collections in this series, which you can read here.

Solomon in Kimono

"Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot, which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie."

- Jean Cocteau

Bertus Aafjes (1914-1993) was a Dutch poet, literati and a world traveler whose oeuvre includes several volumes of short stories and one novella length mystery featuring the venerable and sapient Judge Ooka – an 18th century magistrate who presided over Edo. It's understandable that people see him as the counterpart of Robert van Gulik, but the comparison is a superficial one. The tales about Judge Ooka are more poetical, saturated with haiku's, and seldom deal with murder or any other kind of violence. Instead, they focus on complicated disputes, moral problems and secondary crimes such as theft or blackmail. This makes Aafjes a lot closer related to Chesterton than to Van Gulik, however, they do share a literary kinship as both men drew their inspiration from the same ancient texts.

These poetical mysteries also take a new and interesting approach to the impossible problem: that of the seemingly insoluble answer. Judge Ooka doesn't investigate thefts from locked rooms or bodies found in virgin fields of snow or mud, but unties complicated Gordian knots that are presented to him in his courtroom – and coming up with a suitable solution appears to be as impossible as any of the locked rooms dreamed up by John Dickson Carr and his followers. The best example is probably the superb short story "The Case of the Indivisible Horse," in which the judge has to divide thirteen horses, between two quarrelling merchants, and the solution requires more cunning than merely threatening to chop-up the horse in equal pieces and awarding the hole horse to the one who relinquishes his rights in order to keep the animal alive. 

The Trampled Peony (1973) was his last volume of detective stories in which the historical Judge Ooka solves deviously plotted crimes and knotty problems. It's a nice overview of the series and includes nearly every type of problem encountered in his previous cases.

The Case of the Trampled Peony

The story that lends its name to this book starts with Judge Ooka at his country estate, philosophizing about nature and poetry, when he receives a distressing note from an old man whose daughter has just committed suicide – and he's convinced that someone drove her into taking her own life. It's a longer than usual story, in which the judge spends most of his time reconstructing the life of the tragic woman, who was divorced after a charge of infidelity and remarried a drunk writer, and breaks down the hidden identity of the person who's morally responsible for her hanging – based on witness testimonies, a trail of flowery haiku's and a trampled peony. The whole plot is a testament to Aafjes interest in reworking these classical sagas into a contemporary puzzle plot mysteries, even though this story is more reminiscent of Conan Doyle's iconic Sherlock Holmes stories rather than those of his literary, puzzle orientated descendants. But that's really a compliment and makes for a good opening story.

The Case of the Theft in the Tea House

Judge Ooka is visiting a tea house, to admire the life-like murals adorning the interior of the establishment, when he learns that the proprietor was robbed of several pieces of gold, silver and copper. It's obvious who the sneak thieves are, but there's not sufficient evidence to secure a conviction and force them to fork over the stolen money. The shrewd judge hatches another one of Machiavellian schemes, however, it's based on a presumption and relied too much on luck to bring the case to a good ending. Not a bad story by any means, but not up to the best of the series, either.

The Case of the Willow Tree Witness

One of the shortest stories in this collection, in which the presiding magistrate of old Edo is presented with a most singular problem: a man claims to have been robbed of a pouch of coins and the only witness is a willow tree he was praying to. Judge Ooka comes up with another off-the-wall solution to trap the pickpocket, but his pitfall only worked because he was up against an incredibly dense and slow-witted criminal. Nobody with half a brain would've fallen for that ruse!

The Case of the Red Lacquer Box

Judge Kujou of Kyoto, an old friend and rival of Judge Ooka, visits Edo to hunt down a notorious conman who fled his district, but to capture this slippery fellow he requires the help of his friend – and here he finally starts exhibiting his familiar, fox-like cunning and his vice for courtroom theatrics! This is a pleasantly told story that shows plenty of cleverness and it's always a joy to see Judge Kujou put in an appearance. 

The Case of the Bronze Water Reservoirs

The stand out story of this book, in which the architect of the shogun, who's in the process of rebuilding his burned down castle, seeks the magistrates advise concerning a pending order for several bronze water reservoirs. The bronze reservoirs will be a new fixture in the palace, but they are gigantic and the caster has never made them before and refuses to state his price until they've been cast – and the architect has good reasons to assume that he will jack up his price by saying that he used more bronze that he actually did. Remember, this is the 18th century, and there was no way they could accurately weigh these huge reservoirs and check it for themselves. What your left with is a problem that comes very close to being an impossible one, but the sly judge devised a clever stratagem that's almost on par with the one from "The Case of the Indivisible Horse." I really wish these stories were available in English because I would love to know the opinion of my fellow Connoisseurs in Crime in how far these stories can be considered as impossible ones.

The Case of the Deceived Draftee

A surprisingly boring and mediocre story. Judge Ooka is forced to waste his considerable talents to investigate an infidelity charge and a house cat is his star-witness in identifying a woman's secret lover.

The Case of the Demon at the Flower Festival

Judge Ooka has been invited to attend the annual Flower Festival, where he learns of a woman deep-sea diver, now retired, and her equally skilled daughters who are haunted by the local demon residing at the bottom of the bay. The magistrate, however, suspects a clever set-up for murder, but he's unable to prevent it and ends up saving the murderer. The story rambles on for too long and the pay-off is hardly worth the journey. There's not much of a mystery once the murder is committed and Judge Ooka saves the killer from being burned at the pyre by exploiting local superstitions – unworthy of a nearly unrivalled plotter and schemer like him.

All in all, not a bad short story collection, consisting of the usual hits and misses, but overall enjoyable enough – and makes you wish Bertus Aafjes had devoted more of his time in writing them. He penned the entire series between 1969 and 1973 and is only a blip in his literary career - that began in 1936 and ended a year before his death in 1993. 

Bertus Aafjes (1914-1993)

The Judge Ooka Mysteries:

Een ladder tegen een wolk (A Ladder Against a Cloud, 1969)

De rechter onder magnolia (The Judge Underneath the Magnolia Tree, 1969)

De koelte van een pauwenveer (The Coolness of a Peacock Feather, 1971)

De vertrapte pioenroos (The Trampled Peony, 1973)

Een lampion voor een blinde (A Lantern for the Blind, 1973; a novella length story) 

Best-of collections:

Rechter Ooka mysteries (Judge Ooka Mysteries, 1982)

De mysterieuze Rechter Ooka (The Mysterious Judge Ooka, 1986)

Query: any one interested in me revisiting the whole series and reviewing them here?