9781805335214
Pushkin Vertigo, 2025
original title Ōmarike Satsujin Jiken, 大鞠家殺人事件, 2021
translated by Bryan Karetnyk
375 pp
paperback
“On a certain street corner, one day in the near future—” construction is roaring through the Semba district of Osaka. The old storefronts are coming down, to be replaced by the shiny new developments that will soon erase the neighborhood’s past. A small noticeboard tries to offer a nod to history, mentioning that this was once the place where the image of the classic “Osaka merchant” was born. But its quiet attempt at remembrance doesn’t stand a chance against the jackhammers, excavators, compressors, and crushers that are making the area “disappear for good.” Then something unexpected happens -- while digging, a work crew uncovers what looks like an old air-raid shelter. They pause for a bit, curious—it’s not empty, nor is it a typical shelter. Inside are bits of everyday life frozen in time: furniture, dishes, and even a stash of old mystery novels. One worker recognizes them immediately: a complete set of the Ryuko-Shoin world detective-fiction series, a mix of Japanese, American, and British titles. There’s also a cloth decorated with a temari ball and an old-fashioned logo bearing the name Ōmari—a name none of them have ever heard. The hole is filled in, covered over, and forgotten. Whatever life once thrived there has vanished again, this time beneath concrete. And with it goes any trace of the "vibrant way of life and commerce that the House of Ōmari once brought to the area" —not to mention the numerous murders that happened there "during its final days."
Luckily, we have the creative imagination of Taku Ashibe to relate that story, in this novel that ranges from 1906 in the Meiji Era through the end of World War II and beyond. Ashibe is an incredibly prolific author and a member of the Honkaku Mystery Writers Club of Japan, nominated several times for the Honkaku Mystery Award for best fiction before winning it, along with the Mystery Writers of Japan Award in 2022, for Murder in the House of Ōmari.
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| Note the temari ... from Amazon Japan |
Before the story plunges into its unsettling run of murders, the author takes a moment to ground us in the company’s past and the people who built it. The House of Ōmari began as a modest “general-goods wholesaler” in South Kyuhoji-machi, but in 1894 the family made a savvy move into cosmetics—a decision that would define their future success. Over the years, one of the later heads expanded the enterprise even further, adding manufacturing to the mix while keeping the wholesale side alive and branching into over-the-counter medicines. By 1906, the House of Ōmari is thriving. Sentarō, the family’s “young master” and heir apparent, decides to take a casual trip to the Panorama Museum near Namba Station. With only a company errand boy in tow, he heads out for what should have been an ordinary day—until he suddenly disappears, “like a puff of smoke.” His vanishing leaves the family without a male successor, throwing the Ōmari line of inheritance into disarray. To stabilize the future of the business, the family ultimately adopts their senior head clerk, who then marries their daughter Kiyoe and changes his name to Shigezo Ōmari. The couple went on to have four children—two daughters (Tsukiko and Fumiko) and two sons (Taichiro and Shigehiko). But with Japan’s entry into World War II, the fortunes of the Ōmari family begin to shift. By 1943, the business is a shadow of what it once was; selling cosmetics is now considered unpatriotic, and to be "longing for" Euopean-style goods has to be kept under wraps. By 1945, the family is largely reduced to assembling care bags for soldiers, and their prosperity starts to unravel. Both sons are away serving in the military, leaving the two daughters and a daughter-in-law, Mineko, at home with their parents to keep the household and what remains of the business running. It’s a dark night that same year when the police summon Dr. Namibuchi to the House of Ōmari for what they call a “police medical matter.” When he arrives, it turns out to be an attack on Tsukiko—but thankfully, she’s very much alive, and the blood is revealed to be fake. Yet the relief at her being alive doesn’t last long. Shortly after the police and the doctor finish their examination of the scene, a real tragedy is uncovered: the body of Shigezo, the family patriarch, hanging in his bedroom. The police and Dr. Namibuchi quickly confirm what everyone fears—this was no suicide. Shigezo has been murdered. As mentioned earlier, Shigezo’s death is only the first in a chilling string of murders. Add to that a peculiar detective and a series of bizarre happenings around the house, and the story quickly becomes stranger—and far more intriguing—than anyone could have imagined.
Sure, it takes a more than a little while before the first murder actually occurs, but it’s far from wasted time. As the fortunes of the House of Ōmari rise and fall, the author also captures the shifting landscapes of Osaka—and Japan as a whole—showing the transformations the country undergoes leading up to and during its militaristic period socially, culturally and economically. It’s impressively done, working both as a well-plotted murder mystery and a vivid slice of history, with the two elements perfectly intertwined. There is a bit of silliness here that might have been left out (a demon with red hair comes to mind), but otherwise, I have to admit to being completely caught up in the book, trying to figure out who is behind all of these horrific events. Murder in the House of Ōmari had me tapping into my inner armchair detective, keeping me hooked from start to finish—while at the same time, the author’s rich historical backdrop had me completely absorbed in the history of a changing Japan as well as Osaka's merchant culture.
This one’s definitely best for patient readers, but the payoff is well worth it—by the end, the story proves to be a truly satisfying read on many levels. Definitely recommended.
