Fans pick 100 books like Case Closed, Vol. 1

Edogawa Rampo is the father of Japanese detective fiction, and this macabre short story collection is a perfect introduction to his work. While not detective stories per se (he’s written some that are), these stories showcase a series of works that are fascinating, varied, dark, and very fun to read. 

Borrowing from elements from Western Silver Age detective fiction but adding elements of the grotesque and twisted, he is very distinct from all the Western mystery fiction I’ve read from a similar era. Since detective fiction formally started with Edgar Allen Poe and his C. Auguste Dupin in macabre stories, this seems a throwback to that storied history for me.

I like macabre mysteries with compelling hooks and clever resolutions that blow my mind, and this book does exactly that. Japan has a long tradition of writing “fair play” mysteries, which they call honkaku novels. These borrow from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction in the vein of Agatha Christie but certainly are their own category. 

These novels are like puzzles, focusing on the rules of fair play by giving readers all they need to figure out the mystery. This story was my first honkaku story and is only the length of a novella (like many honkaku novels), and it’s also rather dark, which I enjoy since I like horror as much as mystery.

This 90s manga series is one of the first proper murder mystery manga. While it’s aged a bit and not a honkaku that readers can solve, it borrows a bit from some famous Japanese honkaku novels and might be a good introduction to Japanese murder mystery fiction. Despite the homages, this is distinctively its own story.

As is commonly done in Japanese mysteries, most involve a seemingly impossible murder in a remote location with a long list of shady suspects. While teenage detective Kindaichi Hajime tries to solve the case, more murders happen. The stories are creative, and the solutions are, too—this series often has more macabre moments but is often sympathetic to the killers.

This is a fair-play honkaku novel that involves a twist with the supernatural—in this case, zombies. In Japan or otherwise, most detective fiction tends to avoid the supernatural. Still, zombies actually do behave predictably, so they can be used in the way a murder weapon can. 

Again, you can also solve this mystery before the “detective reveal,” which I didn’t manage to do, but the solution also involves some clever tricks. My reason for recommending this is the use of zombies (to besiege a manor where the characters are holed up), giving this detective story a fresh and unique flavor I haven’t seen before.

Though potentially incomplete (some scholars argue we're missing one or two chapters, or that the story was never meant to end), The Tale of Genji manages to paint a vivid picture of the life of a lost age, with its own array of traditions, values, and fashions; a world where one's skill with poetry was just as valuable as political acumen and their outlook is so different from a modern perspective. At the same time, it presents the timeless complexity of relationships between men and women, and the social expectations and norms that impact those connections.

The actual story as told by an actual geisha (rather than the male author of Memoirs of a Geisha), I was absolutely obsessed with this book when I began studying Japanese.

I loved the depictions of Kyoto pre-war and all the festivals, ceremonies, and intricacies that go into the life of a geisha. The post-retirement part of the story is also so real and human, and while it is a much quieter book compared to the sturm and drang of Memoirs of a Geisha, it has a delicate beauty that stuck with me. 

Japan is full of figures from its own history that loves to villainize, and few of them stand out, like Taira no Kiyomori. This prose retelling of the original epic covers the rise and fall of the Taira Clan is full of politics, scheming, ruthlessness, and more than a few bloody battles. Kiyomori is someone I can understand the motivations of, even as I condemn him for his tactics and monstrous actions. The Heike Story is the bloodstained and muddy underbelly that emerges as the samurai warrior class rises to prominence and the power of the old aristocracy wanes.

A graphic designer by training, Kenya Hara is one of Japan’s most theoretical design thinkers. He steps back and ponders possibility. Especially where the future of Japan is concerned.

Seated in his elegant office in downtown Tokyo, Hara explained to me years ago that Japan once churned out exports but now, as other countries assume that role, Japan must offer something else. In this book he indicates that something else not a physical object. It is the experience of the country’s rich culture, aesthetics, and underlying values.

Living in Tokyo for many years enabled many chances to savor the smell of fresh tatami mats and the toothsomeness of new harvest rice.

Hara’s thoughts resonate with me, but I hope Japan never stops making elegant, user-friendly housewares.

The Woman in the Dunes (Suna No Onna, Sand Woman) was a 1962 novel written by Kobo Abe. The story is about an amateur entomologist who ends up as a forced partner to a recently widowed woman living at the bottom of a sand dune. The story, of course, goes far deeper than that.

While reading the book I recalled the Tottori Sand Dunes on Japan’s West Coast, one of the most surprising landscapes in the island nation. After reading the book and visiting Tottori I watched the 1964 film adaption of the book directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara and starring Eiji Okada and Kyoko Kishida. It is one of the few instances where the film is at least equal to or perhaps surpasses the book version. I highly recommend first reading both books then watching the films to see how skillfully the written word can be converted… show more.

This book came out only a few years after my first encounter with anime and just blew me away, introducing me to a completely different world – a world that at the time was mostly out of reach because Western translations were still rare. 

Having been published in 1983, it may be considered outdated, but manga translator and historian Frederick Schodt is a master narrator and does a great job of explaining how Japanese comics evolved during manga’s golden age. Now we can find any kind of information on the internet, but Schodt’s thorough analysis and engaging prose are second to none. 

If you are into cultural history and like to go beyond simple manga talk, this is still a must-read.