She Walks at Night, by Seishi Yokomizo

 

9781805335573

Pushkin Vertigo, 2026

originally published as Yoru Aruku 夜歩く(1948)

translated by Jesse Kirkwood

247 pp

paperback

I’m always pumped to hear news of another Seishi Yokomizo novel coming out in translation, and I’m always looking forward to whatever comes next. While my reading mojo may have gone walkabout for a few months, my book-buying enthusiasm has remained very much alive and kicking -- I’ve already preordered Yokomizo's The Queen Bee Mystery, due to be published in May 2027.  

Early in this novel (which, according to Wikipedia is Yokomizo's  third in the Kosuke Kindaichi series) the narrator, Torata Yashiro (who writes really third-rate crime novels)  imparts to the reader a chilling warning: She Walks at Night is a tale of a “series of murders so ghastly they defy comprehension.” The crimes are “steeped in an atmosphere so nightmarish they resemble something from a macabre old picture book,” complete with the “musty scent of an ancient hereditary curse.”  At just seventeen pages in, Yokomizo already has my full attention. 

Torata also lets us in on the fact that "the origins of these events were as distant and deep as they were complex," requiring a "careful journey" into a "dark and convoluted past."   Bringing us back to the present, what he calls the “Furugami murder case” appears to get underway with a bizarre incident at an upscale, and apparently popular, cabaret. Koichi Hachiya, a hunchback and “rising star of the art world,” is shot, although fortunately the wound isn't fatal. The incident takes on a more intriguing dimension when Torata's friend, Naoki Sengoku, reveals to Torata that the shooter is none other than Furugami daughter Yachiyo.  The two friends  share a strange bond, with Torata's "peasant farmer"  family having originally been "under the control" of the wealthy and powerful Furugami household dating from the time of Japan's feudal era.  Torata had never been to his home village, since his father had left the area to seek his fortune in Tokyo at the end of the Meiji period.   Naoki and Torata discovered they hailed from the same area when they met at university; Naoki had likewise never been back to the "Furugami family's former territory."  However, based on their mutual geographical roots, Naoki had put himself in the role of Torata's quasi-benefactor, helping him out financially and otherwise, a relationship that continues in the present when they are both thirty-five.  Torata needs the money Naoki offers since the crime novels he writes are not so profitable, but there is always something he must do as repayment, to make himself "useful" to Naoki.  

After filling Torata in on the unsettling business surrounding Yachiyo, Naoki reveals a series of developments that seem to have been lifted from some particularly dark nightmare. A fortune-teller has predicted that Yachiyo will one day marry a hunchback, and a disturbing letter sent to her appears to reinforce the prophecy. Then comes another letter, accompanied by a photograph from which the head has been snipped. To make matters worse, Hachiya has been staying at the Furugami family home for the past week and has been wreaking more than a bit of havoc with his behavior.   Convinced that something dreadful is brewing, Naoki invites Torata to the Furugami mansion on the outskirts of Tokyo, warning him that “something's going to happen” and that “the house is a powder keg.” Torata, feeling once again indebted to his friend, can hardly refuse. But he may soon regret accepting the invitation. Before long, he finds himself caught up in a succession of increasingly sinister events, culminating in murder and the discovery of a headless body. And if the Furugami mansion is already a powder keg, it seems someone has just lit the fuse.  

cosplay event honoring detective Kindaichi Kosuke from kuratoco

Unlike most of the previous Kindaichi Kosuke novels, our scruffy detective takes his time getting onto the scene, and seemingly doesn't do much active detecting. However, he does uncover the huge twist this story takes, which is beyond satisfying and comes at a point where, like good old Kindaichi itching from his famous dandruff, the reader is likely scratching his or her head wondering just what the heck is going on.  

Trying to convey the full complexity of this novel would be a daunting task, so I’ve deliberately kept my description a bit on the vague side. There’s a great deal to unpack here, from Japan’s feudal past and the upheavals of the postwar period to the tangled web of relationships within the Furugami family. All of these elements contribute to a story whose depths are best discovered by the reader firsthand.  As a friendly piece of advice, before even starting this book, it would be more than helpful to scan or take a photo of the family tree/acquaintainces diagram offered before the start of the novel, and the list of "other characters" on the page that follows. Doing that will hopefully spare readers the frequent interruptions I experienced myself, having to flip back through the pages to keep track of who was who and how everyone was connected. 

While it may not be my favorite of the Kindaichi novels, She Walks at Night still has plenty to recommend it, particularly its creepy atmosphere and pronounced Gothic undertones. I would certainly recommend it to anyone following the Kosuke Kindaichi series in English. The tangled backstories and complicated family relationships demand rather more concentration than the average crime novel, but the effort is still very much worthwhile.  

Well, looky here -- I am back again: The Gaunt Stranger, by Edgar Wallace

 

9798886011685

Stark House Press, 2025

192 pp

paperback (with my many thanks to the publisher!)

Obviously, I have not been back here for some time,  but I'm planning to turn things around as of now.  We're still in Florida where the real estate market has pretty much tanked unless you're selling gigantor mansions in the multimillion dollar range, but hopefully we will weather this storm just like everything else that's gone on in our "when it rains it pours" kind of life.  It's just time to get back to doing what I enjoy doing, and that's reading and then sharing my thoughts about the books at hand.   Today it's all about The Gaunt Stranger, by Edgar Wallace (1925), published by Stark House in December of 2025.  I have to say that the ending of this novel nearly knocked me on my can because it was so unexpected, which for me is always a big win.

Wallace sets the scene in his opening chapter, plunging the reader into post-WWI Flanders Lane, Deptford, a “narrow and dingy” place where the houses still cling to something of their former “faded dignity.” The gentry had long since decamped to Blackheath, leaving poverty to creep through the streets like rats, spreading from the cellars and basements into the Lane’s “attic rooms.”  One house, however, stands apart from the general decline: that of Mr. Meister, a lawyer who is “more than this ... a philanthropist.” He takes on cases pro bono and occasionally goes so far as to refer clients to “great advocates.” Yet, as Wallace notes, “Flanders Lane did not love him," and with good reason. Meister inspires fear among some of the residents, as anyone foolish enough to cross him might soon find themselves in serious trouble with the police.  He has also run afoul of his legal peers, having "nearly escaped expulsion for unprofesssional conduct."  One of the people with whom he has been generous is Mary Lenley, the sister of Johnny Lenley who had been sent to prison despite his legal representation.   Meister supported her with an allowance, fixed things so that she could learn typing and shorthand, and then employed her "at a generous wage."   As the story opens, Meister receives a telegram that leaves him thoroughly shaken. Henry Arthur Milton, a convicted criminal, has escaped from prison, and it seems a sure thing that it is only a matter of time before he comes looking for Meister. Known as “The Ringer,” Milton is a master of disguise, and Meister has every reason to fear his return. As the back-cover blurb reveals (so no spoilers here), Meister had once “set him up” and sent him to prison. Inspector Alan Wembury is dispatched to keep an eye on Meister and take charge of the situation, but there is little comfort to be found in his presence. Everyone, including Milton’s somewhat wild wife Cora, seems convinced that the Ringer will prove impossible to catch, leaving Meister looking very much like a sitting duck.

As Curtis Evans observes in his introduction, Wallace “folds” the Ringer into “a realistic environment of everyday cops and crooks, plain detectives and petty deceivers," and for me, this blending of the larger-than-life with the everyday is a large part of what makes the novel such an enjoyable read.  Another reason I enjoyed The Gaunt Stranger is Wallace’s ability to sustain a brooding sense of menace throughout the novel, drawing the reader into a shadowy world where identities are uncertain, appearances are deceptive, and the motives lurking beneath the surface are not always quite what they seem.     And when everything finally fell into place, I have to confess that I let out a very loud “holy crap!” to an otherwise empty room. I was gobsmacked, bowled over, and quite frankly, completely floored.  Hooray. 

from Amazon

The Gaunt Stranger has appeared on the big screen more than once; the 1938 version portrayed in the photo above was released (according to Wikipedia) in the US under the title The Phantom Strikes. I also found an earlier version from 1931 by the same director, which references the play based on the novel from 1929.  

from Wikipedia

And, if that isn't quite enough movie viewing, there is also a silent movie version, as well as a 1952 film featuring (among others) Herbert Lom and Denholm Elliott, who seems to have not been among the main players. 

from Wikipedia

I'm not home right now but when I get back I'll attempt to find these movies online somewhere.  I've  actually had this book on my shelves for a bit and finally felt like reading again (don't even ask) so I tossed it in my book bag to bring with me on vacation.  I'm soooo happy I did.  

A Silver Spade/The Kindest Use a Knife, by Louisa Revell

 

9798886011784

Stark House Press, 2026

originally published 1950/1953

307 pp

paperback (my copy from the publisher, with my many thanks!)

Well, I actually finished reading this book some time ago, but our house has been in the hands of painters for like two weeks now so a lot of my stuff (not to mention my office) has  not been accessible for a while.  Between the construction we did and now the painting, I'm ready to be done with all of this.  Arrghh! 

  A new January 2026 release from Stark House, this two-in-one volume brings together books three and four in Louisa Revell’s short series featuring the formidable Miss Julia Tyler. A Silver Spade (1950) and The Kindest Use a Knife (1953) center on this woman in her late sixties who proves that age has only sharpened her instincts. A devoted reader of crime fiction, Miss Tyler is curious, perceptive, and beyond capable of holding her own when she inevitably comes to find herself smack in the middle of real-life murders.  In his introduction, Curtis Evans points out that, much like Murder, She Wrote’s Jessica Fletcher, Julia can’t seem to go anywhere without a murder tagging along right behind her. Having now read all four of these novels, I’d say that his assessment is pretty much dead on.  For readers new to the series, much of the fun lies in the fact that Miss Julia devours mystery novels, and her fondness for fictional detectives has a way of bleeding into her real-life curiosity, often leading her into situations that carry the unmistakable scent of mystery.

Fresh home from her Louisville adventures in No Pockets in Shrouds, sexagenarian Julia is busy getting the house in order for the family’s newest arrival: her great-niece Anne’s baby. Amid all the domestic bustle, she receives an unexpected visit from Mrs. Turner, who is in desperate need of a last-minute replacement for a Latin instructor at a summer camp for gifted students in Maine. Qualified Latin teachers are apparently hard to come by, and Julia is—according to Mrs. Turner—her “one and only prospect.” Julia initially refuses; she’s far too busy. But just as Mrs. Turner is heading out the door, she casually mentions the threatening letters that drove the previous Latin teacher away. For Miss Julia, that detail seals her fate, and it isn’t long before she’s heading for Camp Pirate Island, drawn by the promise of a mystery she can’t resist.  But what starts as a few anonymous letters quickly escalates, beginning with a bullet that whizzes past her on the beach and soon erupting into not just one, but multiple murders—and a summer camp teeming with suspects. 

I was also excited by the anonymous letters, thinking the book might turn out to be another entry in the poison-pen novel category, but like Miss Julia I got way more than I'd bargained for.  

from ebay (you really have to love that picture!)

Reading A Silver Spade was a genuine pleasure—easily more compelling than the two books that came before it. The mystery is strong, but what really lingers is the edgy, slightly discordant undercurrent that gives the novel its sharp bite, as multiple homicides unfold in a place that feels almost fundamentally at odds with even the possibility of such violence.  This is a summer camp where, after lessons end, the girls are meant to be singing songs, putting on skits, swimming in the lake and gathering around campfires—simple, cheerful rituals that in some cases, take on a chilling quality once death enters the picture. And, honestly, this story stirred up a bit of nostalgia for me—not that I ever studied Latin at a summer camp (I mean, really?) — but it did take me back to those fun days of Girl Scout camps I attended when I was much younger.    Let's just say I should have guessed the who but I never did, and that's definitely a win. 

first edition hardcover, from ebay

In The Kindest Use a Knife, Miss Julia is back home in Rossville, Virginia. As she notes, 

"I've been away from home a good bit since I retired. Annapolis and Louisville and Camp Pirate Island, Maine, were all nice, and the excitement in all those places had certainly kept me from sitting down and feeling superannuated and sorry for myself, but Rossville is home and the garden spot of the world." 

Garden spot it may be (to Miss Julia anyway) but it's certainly not immune from the problems of the rest of the world, including murder.  Jack Morris, wheelchair-bound son of Evelyn Morris and a father who had left years earlier, has taken an overdose of pills.  Evidently, thinking it was likely that Jack would die (he didn't), Mr. G.R. Riley, senior warden of St. Ives Church (with a "duty to see to the business affairs of the parish") had consulted an architect regarding the restoration of the Old Rectory, where the Morris family have lived for some time.  Years earlier, when Evelyn's husband Richard had taken off as part of an insurance scam, he had left her and her two children in a sorry financial state, and they had been staying in the Old Rectory rent free as a kindness.  Now Riley wants to move Evelyn's family out and make the place the parish house.  But when Evelyn unexpectedly appears at the Guild Meeting—where members are voting on Riley’s plans—the votes swing in her favor, despite a number of locals who quietly hoped she’d be forced out. So when Miss Julia later discovers Evelyn with a knife in her back, it’s no surprise that suspicion falls on a few citizens of this "garden spot" … including, briefly, Julia herself.  But Evelyn won't be the only one to die ...

This novel is also very good, though I have to admit I enjoyed A Silver Spade more. It wanders a bit at times, but the central mystery is solid, capped by a holy-crap! denouement I genuinely didn’t see coming, and the small-town dynamic is really vibing here.   And while the story itself is undeniably hard to put down (and pardon the pun, please), The Kindest Use a Knife cuts deeper than I expected, exposing some discomfiting biases toward disabled people. I won’t go into specifics, but these moments serve as stark reminders of the period in which the book was written, and they gave me pause in ways that lingered after I’d finished reading. Curtis Evans addresses these issues more directly in his introduction (which I’d recommend saving for last), along with the author's treatment of African-American characters. It’s more than a little sad to encounter, but whenever I run up against this kind of thing, I remind myself that while we can’t change the past, we can—and should—learn from it.

Overall, this is a solid and highly-enjoyable volume of two engaging mysteries. Even though Miss Julia isn’t exactly a card-carrying sleuth, it’s still a pleasure to follow her as she listens and observes, sorts through what she’s heard and teases out connections (in the detective-fiction world as well as her own) as the crimes unfold.  And while she's not always on the money, I still think she's a peach.  There are three more Miss Julia mysteries to go ... hint, hint, Stark House!!

Definitely recommended for those who have followed this series in the first two books, to those who enjoy vintage crime, and especially to those readers who, like me,  have an abiding fondness for the work of more obscure women writers.