For instance, Yukito Ayatsuji’s The Decagon House Murders, which is often credited with initiating the shin-honkaku movement, involves a university mystery club whose members are nicknamed after Golden Age authors, a set-up that is clearly reminiscent of And Then There Were None, and a culprit who literally hands out roles to the others. Alice Arisugawa is another important shin-honkaku author, and his books also feature a university mystery club. The second book in Ayatsuji’s “House” series, The Mill House Murders, was relatively straightforward in setting, but I suppose Ayatsuji didn’t particularly like that, since his third book, The Labyrinth House Murders, is more meta than all the other books I’ve mentioned combined.
“The Labyrinth House Murders” takes place at the 60th birthday party of (fictional) famed mystery author Youtarou Miyagaki. He’s invited seven people deeply connected to mystery fiction to his Labyrinth House: four of his protégé writers, as well as his editor, a critic, and a fan (who happens to be series detective Kiyoshi Shimada).
However, it turns out the party is actually a massively overcomplicated stunt by Miyagaki to find a successor. He’s killed himself (you don’t get to be a successful mystery author without being a bit of a drama queen, I suppose) and has no heirs, but says he’ll leave his fortune to whichever protégé writes the best novel, as judged by the editor, critic and fan. But there’s a few restrictions: First, they only have five days to write, and must stay in the Labyrinth House the entire time. Second, their entry must take place in the Labyrinth House, with the party guests appearing as the characters. Third, the victim in each story must be that story’s writer.
I probably don’t even need to tell you that the writers start actually dying in the same scenarios as the entries they began to write for the contest.
It’s difficult to imagine a way to get more meta without just directly breaking the fourth wall. We have a bunch of characters who are all involved in mystery fiction, who are being murdered in accordance murder mystery stories, during a dispute for an eccentric rich old guy’s fortune. The other characters even poke fun at the fact that Kiyoshi keeps encountering (and solving) murder mysteries.
Actually, there is one more level to the meta. Most of the novel The Labyrinth House Murders consists of the book-within-a-book “The Labyrinth House Murders.” The actual plot of The Labyrinth House Murders consists of Shimada reading “The Labyrinth House Murders” while sick at home one day. So even within the novel, the murders take place within a murder mystery story—albeit one based on “real events.”
Honestly, I love the decision to use the “Labyrinth House” for this story. True to its name, the house consists of a giant labyrinth surrounded by the other rooms. The dining room, kitchen, and servant's bedroom are directly connected to each other, but going between any other pair of rooms requires traversing the labyrinth. The house is also underground with no windows (besides impassable skylights), meaning the foyer is the only way in or out.
It’s ridiculous! Who in their right mind would ever build or live in such a crazy, inconvenient place? The Decagon House and Mill House were a bit strange, but if you visited them in real life you probably wouldn’t think much of them. The Labyrinth House, on the other hand, is obnoxiously unrealistic. But that’s why it’s perfect for this book! Just like the other plot elements in the book feel almost contrived to create a murder mystery, the convoluted architecture of the Labyrinth House is something that could only show up in a mystery novel—and that’s exactly where it is appearing.
To add onto the detective fiction tropes, the cast gets trapped in the house, since the key to the front door goes missing (and, again, that’s the only exit). I do want to say, though… The novel doesn’t bring this up, but I really think the place should have been called the “Fire Hazard House” instead. There’s only one exit, period, which can be locked from the inside with a key, and, unless you’re in the foyer, you’ll need to literally navigate a maze (with a fire going on!) to leave. I bet the bribe to the fire code inspector to approve this house was more than the construction costs. The thought of being in this house when a fire occurs is legitimately terrifying.
But anyway, let’s move onto lighter topics.
The previous “House” novels both featured a juxtaposition of two perspectives: Decagon switched between events on the island and the mainland, while Mill alternated between 1985 and 1986. I think Labyrinth is intended to focus on the “inner book” versus the “outer book,” but we just get an introduction, the entirety of “The Labyrinth House Murders,” and a conclusion. There’s no balance or integration, so it feels like a standard book-within-a-book rather than two contracting halves. I thought Magpie Murders pulled this off a lot better, since the two parts were relatively evenly balanced, even if they weren’t intertwined. To be fair, this isn’t an objective knock against Labyrinth—but it does feel a bit unfortunate it wasn’t able to properly follow through on a theme initiated by the previous entries in the series.
The framing does, however, add a bit of a unique twist. Although “The Labyrinth House Murders” is a mystery novel, it is a first-hand account of a real series of murders within the world of The Labyrinth House Murders—written under a pen name. So we know one of the people at the house is the narrator, but we don’t know which one it is. …This doesn’t end up being a fair mystery, but it’s a unique one, and fun to consider as you progress through the inner novel.
As for the murder mystery proper, it’s… a bit strange too. It’s fairly easy to figure out how the murders were committed. There’s a certain assumption undergirding the characters’ thoughts on the crimes for most of the novel, and it can be a bit frustrating how they don’t acknowledge this assumption until the end. It was a bit similar to my experience with The Egyptian Cross Mystery. A lot of detective stories clearly signal when they’re going into the denouement, but this one doesn’t. They’re chatting (near the end of the book) and suddenly start solving everything.
But that stuff isn’t important. I don’t think it’s what the book really cares about. There’s another question the book is posing, a question so ridiculously subtle and unfair that you probably won’t even realize it was posed until the answer is presented. In terms of solving this mystery on your own, my use of the word “unfair” in the previous sentence probably shows my feelings on it, but in terms of being surprised by the resolution… Ayatsuji got me. Mystery fiction hinges on a delicate balance between surprise and fairness, and if you’re going to throw one of those by the wayside, you’d better be sure you do the other one right, and I think Labyrinth does.
The Labyrinth House Murders is another solid entry in the “House” series. It doesn’t integrate its narrative structure as deeply into its plot as its predecessors, but it leans a lot harder into meta elements. The murders feel almost like a cheap distraction from the real issue at hand, but hey, that’s how it goes sometimes, and the “true question” is presented so subtly it cleanly breaks through the bounds of annoyance into simple acceptance. I still liked Mill more, but I rank this one over Decagon.
No comments:
Post a Comment