Like a delicious curry
Keigo Higashino is Japan’s preeminent writer of detective fiction, with over 60 books across 30plus years of writing. And yet, only about a dozen of these books have been translated into English. That is why The Final Curtain is billed as “the final Detective Kaga book” — the original is indeed the final book in the internal chronology of the series, but there are a fair few Kaga adventures yet to be translated into English.
The book begins on an appropriately cinematic note: we see how, 10 years ago, Detective Kyoichiro Kaga collected the ashes of his deceased mother. When Kaga was just an 11yearold, his mother Yuriko Tajima had abandoned him and his father without warning — now, the woman who kept her ashes tells Kaga that Yuriko blamed herself “for failing as a wife and a mother”.
In the present day, Detective Kaga’s cousin and colleague Shuhei Matsumiya asks for his help on a pair of murders that have a strange set of connections to Yuriko’s passing a decade ago — and her possible relationship with a shadowy stranger called Watabe. One of these curious connections is a calendar with annotations in the form of bridgenames, one bridge for each month. Another is a theatre actor and director, Hiromi Asai, and her old high school class, some of whom may have knowledge of how the past connects these disparate individuals.
People don’t change
The impressive thing about The Final Curtain is that while the action is propulsive and the intricate plot unspools expertly, the actual ‘whodunnit’ part isn’t always the main event, especially in the second half where enterprising readers (and/ or longtime Higashino fans) may well join the dots themselves. Instead,
Higashino uses his psychological acuity to delve deep into every single character’s motivation in life.
It is this brand of frothy, Freudonaholiday psychological realism that’s now considered the Japanese veteran’s signature touch. Stray looks exchanged, a suspicious hand gesture, an overly familiar conversation — Higashino’s detectives are wellversed in interpreting these windows to the soul — Detective Kaga perhaps most of all.
This is the fourth book in which Englishlanguage readers are encountering Kaga, seen most recently in last year’s underwhelming A Death in Tokyo. Here both he and Higashino are back to top form. Which isn’t to say that Kaga has changed very much at all. In fact, one of the points on which Higashino has been stubborn all these years is that people don’t really change. And people who are in the business of ‘solving’ other people cannot afford to change, lest they lose their edge. Sample this passage where Hiromi is meeting Kaga after several years. At their last meeting, Kaga was organising a kendo camp for some of the children Hiromi was teaching theatre to.
“He hadn’t changed at all over the intervening years: his eyes were just as keen and bright, his features were just as strong, and he still gave off that very human sense of warmth. What Hiromi had asked of him was difficult enough, but he had gone well beyond that, trying to teach the children everything they needed to know to acquire perfect swordfighting technique. In the end, it was Hiromi who had to suggest that perhaps the children were good enough. Kaga was not just a kind man, he was also a man of his word.”
Several story arcs
I was impressed, also, by the way Higashino packs in a lot of story arcs in the third act without making it impossibly dense or cluttered. Every piece of the puzzle is allotted the same degree of detail and solemnity, no theme is dangled just to check it off a list. For instance, in the past as well, Higashino has used Japan’s nuclear history as a plot point, depicting how the shadow of radiation illness still hangs upon a part of the populace. In The Final Curtain, too, one of the ‘people of interest’ is found to have worked at a nuclear power station — the kind of job that leaves its imprint upon the body and mind.
Keigo Higashino Hachette India
“Anyone who worked in radiationcontrolled areas had to register. The task force had already confirmed that neither Shunichi Watabe nor Mutsuo Koshikawa were on file there. Of course, someone could still have been working under those names in nuclear power plants, just not in any radiationcontrolled areas. However, an expert on nuclear power industry staffing issues they had talked to had assured them that that was highly unlikely. In the nuclear business, everyone knew that the best way to earn serious money — more money than was available anywhere else — was to expose yourself to generous amounts of radiation.”
This might be my favorite Higashino of them all, actually. As good as The Devotion of Suspect X and Malice were, this is Higashino operating with sedate mastery. No flashiness, no fuss, just good, solid police procedural writing coupled with a veteran’s insights into the human heart and mind. Highly recommended for all fans of crime fiction.
The writer and journalist is working on his first book of nonfiction.
Do I start with the stories I have read before or dive into the new ones? This was my dilemma when faced with Bulbul Sharma’s Mayadevi’s London Yatra: New and Selected Stories.
Since the first — ‘Fish Curry Memories’ — was new, I dove right in. Paraphrased, the story is rather bald: an elderly woman tricked into housekeeping for her nephew in a foreign land and her longing for home. But Sharma throws in various ingredients — broken relationships, food, resilience, courage, fear — to serve up a tale as delicious as the curry Leela dishes out before finally making her escape. To savour Sharma’s writing, read the passage in ‘Food to Die For’, on how the narrator’s grandmother and her sidekick begin cooking for a religious ceremony. There is an almost tactile nature to her words, as if you can reach out and touch the various items being prepared.
Powerful voices
Completely different is ‘The Child Thief’. A young girl, trained from babyhood to help her father steal, begins to work
Bulbul Sharma Speaking Tiger ₹399
in her brother’s gang. But made uncomfortable by his boss, she devises a novel way to get rid of the man. In total contrast is ‘Roses for my Love’. On his 50th wedding anniversary, Mr. Sen recalls how he got married and drifted apart from his wife. But,