Seven Stories (2016) by MORI Hiroshi

Dr. MORI Hiroshi is a Japanese engineer and mystery writer whose debut novel, Subete ga F ni naru (The Perfect Insider, 1996), earned him the first ever Mephisto Prize, which the editors of Mephisto Magazine created in 1996 and irregularly awarded to creative, or experimental, unpublished genre fiction – slanted mostly towards detective fiction. For example, the prize was awarded in 2002 to Zaregoto series: kubikiri saikuru (Zaregoto, Book 1: The Kubikiri Cycle, 2002) by "NisiOisiN."

Some former winners united in 2012 under the banner The BBB: Breakthrough Bandwagon Books to get their novels and short stories translated and published in English. The BBB catalog has a wide variety, almost eclectic, collection of Japanese fiction and non-fiction, but, until now, had only read one of their translations, MORI Hiroshi's "Sekitō no yane kazan" ("The Rooftop Ornaments of Stone Ratha," 1999). An armchair detective story pondering an archaeo-historical mystery from ancient India with architectural features. Admittedly, a very minor detective story, but a fascinating one and earned his collection of short stories a place on my wishlist.

Dr. MORI's Seven Stories (2016) collects five standalone stories and two stories from his well-known S&M series, which were translated, compiled and edited by second winner of the Mephisto Prize, Ryusui Seiryoin – who won it the same year with Kazumikku: sekimatsu tantei shinwa (Cosmic: End of Century Detective Myth, 1996). By the way, that prize-winning novel sounds amazing with an enigmatic figure, The Locked Room Lord, warning "that 1200 people would be killed in 1200 locked rooms," but that one is, hopefully, for a future date. Just two comments before delving into these stories. I didn't include the original publication dates as usual with my short story reviews, because I found contradictory dates. However, the copyright page notes the originals were published in Japan between 1997 and 2001. Not every story in this collection is a detective story proper. Seven Stories provided me with more than enough reasons to tag the review with the "Hybrid Mysteries" label. 

Seven Stories opens with "Kotori no ongaeshi" ("The Girl Who Was the Little Bird") and is not, strictly speaking, a traditional mystery, but a character-driven crime story with a fairy tale-like quality. And it worked. Unlike some one, or two, of the other stories collected here. The story begins when Kiyofumi Shimaoka resigns from a university hospital position to take father's place as the head of Shimaoka Hospital in the wake of his tragic murder. Dr. Hideo Shimaoka was beaten to death the year before by the victim of a hit-and-run that had been brought to the hospital and the tale that follows stretches out over many years. A story telling of Kiyofumi's awkward marriage to his nurse, Ayako, who (sort of) witnessed the murder and how they bonded with the small bird the murderer left behind in the consultation room. And how that bird eventually flew away. Some time later, Kiyofumi takes on a student nurse, Miho Shirasaka, who tells him she's "the little bird who flew away from that birdcage." But he has to promise not to tell anyone ("keep the secret even from your wife, okay?") she's a bird or she'll "fly away through the window—again."

Ryusui Seiryoin wrote in his afterword, "Interpretive Article," he picked "The Girl Who Was the Little Bird" because he felt it to be "the most well-balanced work and possessed the potential to be accepted by the widest spectra of audiences" among Dr. MORI's works. I think I can see his reasoning. It has themes and plot-elements that turn up in nearly all the stories collected here. Such as an unresolved problem from the past, characters who mirror each other or blend together and toying with identities. What really impresses is how Dr. MORI succeeded in writing a fairly clued, but counter intuitive, low-key detective story as the murder is little more than a background detail in their lives and is rather about good deeds getting rewarded – even good things coming out of bad deeds. A great, if unusual and unorthodox, opening story and a standout of the collection. The kind of story that would have been right at home in Motohiro Katou's Q.E.D. series (c.f. "Three Birds" from vol. 18). 

"Katahō no piasu" ("A Pair of Hearts") is next and begins with Thoru introducing his girlfriend, Kaoru, to his twin brother, Satoru, who appear to be the mirror image of each other. Thoru is left-handed, has short hair and wears an earring on his left ear, while Satoru is right-handed with long hair and an earring in his right ear. A bewildered Kaoru becomes "obsessed with the mirror image of her boyfriend for reasons that she did not understand," which is a problem compounded when one of the brothers dies in a house fire. But who really died? This could have been an interesting take on the "whose body?" puzzle, but this character-driven tale is an affair of the heart and not the mind. So while not a bad story at all, it's unlikely to excite regular mystery readers who follow this blog. 

"Boku wa Akiko ni kari ga aru" ("I'm in Debt to Akiko") is the third story of the collection and praised to the heavens by the editor, "THE masterpiece of his masterpieces," but left me underwhelmed and slightly disappointed. Nor is it an easy story to describe and judge. A dream-like narrative by an anti-social loner, Kimito-kun, who meets a young woman, Akiko, in the university cafeteria. The questions is how she knows his name, why she picked him as a companion and why Kimito felt compelled to spent a few strange hours with Akiko. Not bad for a coming-of-age story covered in pixiedust, but it's not a detective story or even a slice-of-life mystery. It's not even the best story in the collection. 

"Kokū no mokutōsha" ("Silent Prayer in Empty") is one of only three short stories in Seven Stories that can be properly described as detective fiction. This one is perhaps best described as a quasi-inverted mystery. Midori Mizuki and her 7-year-old son, Yuta, have been living under a dark cloud ever since her husband, Tomonori Mizuki, disappeared following the robbery and murder of the chief priest of a Buddhist temple in town – whose fingerprints were discovered at the scene of the crime. Midori threw herself upon her work and, a few years later, was offered a better paying position in Shizuoka City. So she came to say goodbye to the new priest, but then the murder of the priest and disappearance of his supposed murderer came back up. This is, once again, a more philosophical, character-driven crime story, but very well done one with a fitting conclusion.

The editor originally intended not to include the next story, "Kappa" ("Kappa"), because "the ending of this work is bold enough to go beyond the genre as a mystery fiction" and that has everything to do with the titular yokai (monster) of Japanese folklore. "Kappa" was included on account of it being "one of the first four short stories he wrote" and "this fact has to be emphasized." So it has to be contrasted with the previous (except the second) short stories in the collection, but the story belongs in a collection or anthology of ghost stories or supernatural fiction in general. It reads like a cleaner, romanticized version of Edogawa Rampo's horror stories complete with that strange, twist ending. 

A note for the curious: a Kappa is a green, scaly-skinned humanoid living in bodies of water, like rivers, ponds and swamps, who attack or pull pranks on humans. This creature was used in an orthodox detective story in Gosho Aoyama's Case Closed, vol. 69.

I've already reviewed the next short story, "The Rooftop Ornaments of Stone Ratha," but it bears repeating that it stands, plot-wise, as arguably the strongest and purest detective story collected here. Better even than the seventh and last work of Seven Stories. 

"Dochiraka ga majo" ("Which is the Witch?") is sadly one of only two short stories in the popular Professor Saikawa and his student Moe (S&M) series to have been translated into English and noted in my review of "The Rooftop Ornaments of Stone Ratha" the series was obviously modeled on Isaac Asimov's The Black Widowers series – as the short stories a regular gathering "officially named 'TM Connection' or 'The Banquet of the Black Windows.'" An unmistakable reference to Asimov's short story collection The Banquets of the Black Widowers (1984) and "Which is the Witch?" appears to have taken its cue from one of the stories in that collection, "The Redhead." This story needs some time to get going, but, during their latest gathering, two different puzzles emerge involving two stalkers, a creepy fortuneteller in a cafe and a girl who "transported herself from one place to another instantaneously" as if by magic. Sounds like an impossible situation, or an open-air locked room mystery, but it really isn't. However, the synergy between the various puzzles and plot-threads were nicely done and tied together. So not a bad story to round out the collection.

All in all, Seven Stories appears to be a mixed bag of tricks, as usually is the case with short story collections, but, to be fair to Dr. MORI and his work, the collection is perhaps best described as an acquired taste – certainly around these parts. So the collection, as a whole, should be read for its storytelling rather than the intricate, inspired plotting commonly associated with the Japanese shin honkaku mysteries. However, the stories were published separately and, if the collection as a whole does not appeal to you, the two S&M stories are still of interest to fans of the traditional detective story. I think Dr. MORI wrote something truly special with "The Girl Who Was the Little Bird," but can also see why it wouldn't be to everyone's taste. So, yes, not a particular helpful and rambling review, but Seven Stories is one of those books that will divide opinions depending on how of a purist you are. You really have to decide for yourself.

Just a heads up, I have something very British, very vintage and very obscure lined up for the next post. Fingers crossed it will be good!