Our protagonist, high school student Tadokoro, is the Watson to his friend Katsuragi. Tadokoro had dreamed of becoming a detective himself but realized he didn’t have the aptitude, so he’ instead settled for tagging along with Katsuragi. Both are fans of the mystery novelist Yuuzan and hatch a plan to sneak out of their school camp to visit Yuuzan’s mansion, which is nearby.
Yuuzan’s manor is an isolated house on top of a mountain (because of course it is). While climbing, a fire breaks out near the base of the mountain—so the primary goal of reaching Yuuzan’s manor shifts from meeting their idol to seeking shelter from the fire. Yuuzan is comatose and on his deathbed, being cared for by his son, grandson, and granddaughter. The cast is rounded out by an abrasive young woman who was also climbing the mountain and got trapped by the fire, Yuuzan’s neighbor who lives in another house on the mountain, and Asukai, an insurance agent who had been visiting Yuuzan’s neighbor. As it turns out, Asukai is the person who inspired Tadokoro to (try to) become a detective—and has become a shadow of her former self.
The cast is trapped on the top of the mountain by the wildfire (like in Ellery Queen’s Siamese Twin Mystery). Since Yuuzan is a crazy mystery writer who built an isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, the building is naturally full of tricks and secrets. The group assumes that there must also be a secret passage to the foot of the mountain (and safety) somewhere, and devotes themselves to finding it. However, overnight someone is killed by one of the contraptions in the house. It looks like it could be an accident, but the group must still contend with the fact that there may be a traitor in their midst….
I love bizarre, isolated mansions filled with secrets. I love closed circles. I love having multiple detectives. So Murder in the Crimson Manor had a lot going for it, but in the end I still feel that it’s just okay. The cause of the victim’s death is explained partway through the book, which then just leaves the question of “who,” which is explained with flimsy reasoning that isn’t tied to the murder method or the tricks in the house. As a result, all these tropes that I like are there, but they aren’t played with, they don’t interact with each other, they aren’t subverted, they aren’t used in a clever or unexpected way. They’re just there.
There is also a large component of the crime that is unexplained. As far as I can tell this is an oversight or plot hole, so it drags down my overall feelings on the book. To give a vague description, one of the contraptions used by the culprit requires two people to operate, but the book never explains who this second person was, and there are no great candidates for this second person. To be explicit (rot-13, this won’t make any sense unless you’ve read the book), gur vffhr vf ubj Xhtnfuvzn chg Zvqbev’f cvpgher va gur fcnpr oruvaq gur snxr prvyvat, fvapr ur’q arrq fbzrbar gb envfr gur prvyvat. Gfhonfn grpuavpnyyl pbhyq unir urycrq, ohg vg qbrfa’g dhvgr svg. Xhtnfuvzn pbhyq unir nfxrq Gfhonfn gb cynpr gur cvpgher juvyr fur jnf hc gurer, ohg vg’f hapyrne jul ur jbhyq nfx gung be jul fur’q npprcg, naq Xhtnfuvzn jbhyqa’g xabj gur cebcre gvzvat gb envfr gur prvyvat (gung vf, nsgre Gfhonfn cebcreyl cynprq gur cvpgher ohg juvyr fur jnf fgvyy ba gur sne raq). Xhtnfuvzn pbhyq unir tbar vagb gur fcnpr orsber Gfhonfn (jvgu gur zrpunavfz bcrengrq ol Gfhonfn), ohg ntnva vg’f abg pyrne jul gurl’q qb guvf, naq Xhtnfuvzn jbhyq unir fbzrubj arrqrq gb xabj va nqinapr gung gurer jbhyq or n fcbg sbe Zvqbev’f cvpgher.
Detective novels are rarely ironclad, but such a large hole pertaining to a major plot element cant help but sink my feelings on the book a bit. The book is fairly long, so to go through all that for a single murder that concludes with relatively weak logic and a sizable plot hole is a letdown.
The characters, like the plot, are fine but not great. The elephant in the room is Katsuragi, who has the magic power to sense lies. It’s not really magic—it’s a honed skill developed by constant exposure to lies and deceit in his position as the son of a high class family—but it still feels weird and out of place. Just like the magatama in Ace Attorney, Katsuragi never just asks “Did you do it?” since then there would be no story, even though there is nothing within the narrative stopping him from doing so. Which is an annoyance, but the greater sin is the fact that Katsuragi’s power doesn’t matter. It’s never used creatively or in an interesting way. Like the set pieces of the setting, it’s just there, which begs the question of why Atsukawa bothered writing it in.
On the other hand, Asukai is incredibly interesting. I’ve never seen a character quite like her. While reluctant detectives aren’t novel, the way Asukai rejects detecting so thoroughly is. When you have dueling detectives, usually they are competing to solve the case first. But Asukai fights to prevent the existence of a case in the first place. Maybe I’m being overdramatic, but I feel like the tragedy of Asukai’s story taps into a quintessential component of the human condition—of loss and longing for the past—even if that story is dressed up with extravagances like implausible deductions and flamboyant serial killers.
Atsukawa’s treatment of Asukai and Katsuragi also connects to his conception of detectives, which is not as a mundane profession or glamorous role bestowed by the narrative, but as an immutable and inherent quality. You either are a detective, or are not. It may all be narrative conceit, but I enjoyed the interplay on the topic among Tadokoro (who wants to be a detective but is not), Asukai (who does not want to be a detective but is), and Katsuragi (who willingly accepts his role as detective). It’s silly, but if you can’t have fun reading dramatic shonen-style speeches on what it means to be a detective, you should probably lighten up a bit.
Murder in the Crimson Manor is, ultimately, less than the sum of its parts. It has a neat balance of classic tropes with new tweaks (such as an isolated mansion and dueling detectives), cool set pieces, interesting deductions, and a unique character, but none of the pieces build upon the other, and that’s before we get to the massive plot hole. A Great Detective Never Lies had a more unique premise with more story threads that tied together into a stronger narrative knot. While I’ve done no outside research on Atsukawa, I know, just from reading his books, that he’s a mystery nerd who grew up on both classic detective fiction and popular anime from the 90s and 00s. So maybe it’s just because I see my tastes in his, but despite the flaws of Murder in the Crimson Manor I still at least enjoy the way Atsukawa approaches the genre.
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