Meiji Guillotine

I generally don't use the dictionary very much when I'm reading. In a normal modern text I can generally understand almost all of the words on a page; and, as when reading English, I guess the ones I don't know unless I really have no idea. Some books, though, are more of a challenge. When I read The Panic of A Tomoichirou some months ago, the large amount of background knowledge and unfamiliar vocabulary connected to the end of the rule of the shogun in the mid nineteenth century made for a not very enjoyable reading experience for someone with my level of Japanese. The same problem comes up in the book reviewed here, 明治断頭台 (Meiji dantoudai, Meiji Guillotine, 1979) by 山田 風太郎 (YAMADA Fuutarou, 1922-2001), set only a few years later, on the other side of the revolution which replaced the shogun with the until then more or less ceremonial emperor. The short stories in this collection are a series of murder cases investigated by the newly established police force in Tokyo.

Short story collections have two types. Some are simply the book form publication of diverse stories, most of which have been published before in other outlets, united at most by having the same series detective. Others are a bit more like a concept album: they have a common theme and planned developments that span the whole volume. (Dorothy L. Sayers' Hangman's Holiday is an example of the former type, Agatha Christie's Partners in Crime for the latter.) The latter is found occasionally in the west, but seems to be very common in Japan. This book is certainly an example of the form. A mystery is solved in each chapter; but there is also an overarching story. That too added to the reading difficulty, as much of the narration at any point is not really relevant to the case in hand, sometimes because it is part of the larger story, sometimes because it is historical colour. There too a better knowledge of Japanese history would have been useful, so that I could understand whether something was being referenced for historical interest or because it was part of the story. Typically the stories take a long time to get to the actual puzzle part of the mystery. The crime often happens about three quarters of the way through the story.

Strictly speaking none of the stories are impossible crimes; but the stories are a little remiscent of John Dickson Carr. There are a lot of mechanical tricks, often using items specific to the setting, sometimes with a pleasing ingenuity, though never very plausibly. The police captain detective has returned from a visit to France, accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman, his landlord's daughter. His landlord's family had been the hereditary executioners in Paris (a very Carrian touch); and the guillotine features heavily in several of the stories. The solution to each mystery is presented by the French girlfriend, who dressed as a miko, acts as a medium to let the victims tell their story. This has the disadvantage that we never get actual reasoning for choosing a particular solution.

The Panic of A Tomoichirou

AWASAKA Tsumao's A Aiichirou stories are among the highpoints of Japanese detective fiction. I've read two of the three collections so far; but this time I'm going to talk about a prequel. 亜智一郎の恐慌  (A Tomoichirou no kyoukou, The Panic of A Tomoichirou, 1997) features a character who seems to be a bakumatsu version of A Aiichirou. Like Aiichirou he is handsome and elegant, but sometimes clumsy and cowardly, and has a talent for observation and deduction. While Aiichirou is a photographer who specialises in cloud photography, Tomoichirou works in the shogun's "cloud watching department", in which a few samurai spend the day lazily observing the weather in Tokyo from a tower in the shogun's palace.

The first of the seven stories in the collection introduces us to Tomoichirou and other samurai who are assigned to his team, when a court official realises that he has the skills for a secret investigator. The subordinates have various characters, one is a one armed, easy going lover of theatre, one an enthusiast for the ninja skills that are no longer really needed in modern Japan, one is immensely strong. In different episodes in the first story, they show their potential usefulness as secret agents.

The stories that follow have something in common with the A Aiichirou series, but are really far enough removed from it that I don't think that I'd recommend them to fans. There is an impossible crime (of sorts) in the second story, but really most of the stories are more like spy stories with a small detective element. Also although some have a similar humour to the A Aiichirou series, others deal with horrible crimes where humour is really not wanted. Finally Tomoichirou, unlike Aiichirou, is rarely a major character in the story, although he does always make some deduction near the end. More often the mystery plays out as an adventure story with different members of his team as the main investigators (much like Van Gulik's Judge Dee series).

This is not a very enthusiastic review. Partly I may be holding Awasaka to a higher standard than other writers. Partly the historical background may have made this too difficult a book for me to enjoy it. I read a lot on the train, away from the internet or any dictionary. Mostly that works out fine; but here with a lot of vocabulary rooted in the culture of Tokyo under the shogun and a lot of references to historical events and people, I often lacked the background I needed to really appreciate the book. As historical fiction, they work much on the pattern established by Scott. The various adventures are often thrown up by the real historical events of the chaotic period that led to the rejection of the shogun for the rule of the emperor; but although the agents are successful in their own actions, they are not really changing anything in the flow of history.

Travellers to the North

北へ行く旅人たち (Kita e iku tabibitotachi, Travellers to the North, 1977) is a children's book by KAWAMURA Takashi (川村たかし, 1931-2010), a historical novel set in Meiji Japan, the first in what became a series of ten books, published between 1977 and 1988. The story follows the internal migration of villagers from Totsukawa in Nara prefecture, to Shintotsukawa (New Totsukawa) in Hokkaidou. In 1889 after torrential rain, massive floods and landslides killed 168 villagers in Totsukawa and destroyed hundreds of houses. The Japanese government was trying to develop Hokkaidou at the time, and the homeless villagers were offered new homes in the uninhabited country north of Sapporo.

For most western readers, the most comparable books will probably be the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The main difference is that Wilder's book is a fictionalised account based on her own childhood experiences, but Kawamura's book is straightforwardly a historical novel. It is also probably aimed at slightly older children, probably a little older than the main character, who ages from nine to eleven in the book. This is Fuki (フキ), the youngest of three children who are orphaned in the catastrophe described in the first chapters. This is the first of several partings for Fuki. Her older sister stays in Nara, making a hasty marriage to the man she had been promised to. Fuki goes to Hokkaidou with her older brother, Terukichi (照吉). They share the journey with a neighbouring family, NAKAZAKI Kikuji (中崎菊次) a friend of their father, his wife Shina (しな), son Toyotarou (豊太郎) and daughter Yukino (ゆきの).

In Hokkaidou the new homes are not ready for the settlers; and they spend their first winter there in communal huts across the river from the land they will be taking. Many of the migrants start to despair and think of running off (a dangerous desperation, as they are far from any town). Others spend the waiting time gambling away their money.

'It's not there,' Fuki rubbed her eyes. 'The one yen that sister gave me is gone.'
Everyone folded up the futons, and opened everything, even Terukichi's carrying cloth, looking for the money. It was nowhere to be found.
'Stolen,' Matsukichi said angrily. 'Gone, is it? If it's a thief, he'll likely have taken more than one yen.'
But Fuki seemed to be the only victim. Yukino came to her where she sat despondent on the floor and whispered, 'Yesterday evening, Terukichi was looking in your bag.'
'Eh?'
'I'm sure I saw him.'
Toyotarou pulled at his sister's sleeve, 'You sure about that? Not got something confused? Maybe you forgot it somewhere, Fuu?'
Fuki was sitting there dazed. She knew that Terukichi was gambling every day. It was hard to believe, but maybe he had taken it out without telling her.
'Oh yes. I just remembered. It wasn't stolen,' Fuki forced herself to smile. 'I forgot I told Terukichi he could have it, didn't I? I'm such an idiot.'
Nobody answered. The undried wood it the open fireplace split open with a sizzling sound. The gruel in the pot was boiling.
Fuki bowed to Yukino, 'Thank you,' and ran outside. She checked that no-one had followed her, then kicked the snow up with all her strength.
'Eei, idiot brother!'

The narrative moves between three viewpoints, Fuki, Kikuji and a more detached, historical, narrator, particularly in the description of the disaster in Totsukawa. The focus on Fuki increases after the settlers get to Hokkaidou and again when they get to their first homes.

For Japanese learners, I suspect that this might be more difficult reading than many books for adults (it was for me). There is a lot of dialect, and a lot of historical and rural vocabulary. Also, like books for adults the book is printed with minimal furigana.