translated from the original Japanese by Jesse Kirkwood.
Reading reprints of classic mysteries can be so hit and miss for me, and especially when they’re in translation. As cultures converge globally, reading these snapshots of past attitudes to murder and other unsavory dealings can often feel jarring, especially when taking into account the fact that sometimes there just aren’t words to adequately express a particular cultural touchstone (tho Mr Kirkwood certainly does an excellent job here, so far as I can tell!) The attitudes towards mental health and sex, especially, can seem really dispiriting, particularly in comparison with our relatively more compassionate age.
Which was why Akimitsu Takagi’s The Noh Mask Murder was such a breath of fresh air for me. There is sex and madness aplenty in the pages of this slender volume first published in the 1950s, but they’re treated matter-of-factly and not as indicators of evil. Surprisingly progressive and compassionate, this book showcases the post-World War II culture of Japan while also invoking the universality of the human experience.
But dearest to my novel-loving heart was the brilliant construction of this unusual book, a set of found documents delivered to a detective who happens to bear the same name as the author. The diary at the heart of the book is also an observation of the case, with several less than flattering descriptions of the detective himself. It’s smart, playful and inventive, even before you get to the end of the book and are shocked by how many layers of revelation are contained in these mere 200+ pages.