The Decagon House Murders

This was a weird one. I loved it.

The Decagon House Murders by Yukito Ayat­suji is an exem­plar of a genre I hadn't known existed: “new orthodox” mysteries, shin honkaku in Japanese — a return to the old rules of the game:

• Characters introduced fully and fairly
• A clearly circumscribed stage (think: snowbound chalet)
• No vital information withheld from the reader

Per the intro­duc­tion by mys­tery writer Shi­mada Soji:

As a result, [Ayat­suji’s] char­ac­ters act almost like robots, their thoughts depicted only min­i­mally through repet­i­tive phrases. The nar­ra­tion shows no interest in sophis­ti­cated writing or a sense of art and is focused solely on telling the story. To readers who were used to Amer­ican and British detec­tive fiction, The Decagon House Murders was a shock. It was as if they were looking at the raw building plans of a novel.

That reads as much like a warning as a recommendation!

It was a review in the Washington Post that piqued my curiosity. The book that arrived from Amazon was flimsy, with a thick seam of glue — clearly print-on-demand. This endeared me to it instantly. The publisher, Locked Room International, is deeply niche and delight­fully specific — the kind of oper­a­tion that only sur­vives in book pub­lishing. (Some days, I think this kind of oper­a­tion is what book pub­lishing is for.)

The Decagon House Murders is a weird read, and you should believe Shi­mada Soji when he tells you the writing is clunky and the char­ac­ters vacant. But the book presents a fas­ci­nating puzzle, and the solu­tion is electrifying, in large part because it relies entirely upon the book-ness of this book. No movie adap­ta­tion is possible. I'll say no more.

January 2016, Berkeley