Let those who lament the — vastly overstated — train fixation of Freeman Wills Crofts take note: Tokyo Express (1958) by Seichō Matsumoto contains so much red-hot timetabling action that I half expected it to be written by someone called Bradshaw. And it’s fitting perhaps that such a small, quiet crime — a double suicide on a gloomy beach — should result in a quiet and low-key investigation, but for me there needs to be a little more to show for all the hours spent looking at the precise movements of trains, ferries, and more. The essential culmination of this is clever, but the route we take to get there could have used a few faster, twistier sections of track.

First to investigate the bodies found in Hakata Bay is police detective Jūtarō Torigai, who, at a positively ancient 40 years of age, represents a slightly jaded, solemn presence in proceedings. His thorough, patient worrying at the problem of the dead couple unearths a few unusual details — the dining car receipt, for one — which make him suspect that more is going on. And, through slow, patient work he establishes some odd behaviour of the parts of the people who surround the victims, and begins to grasp at some sort of sinister shape behind their deaths.

The skein is then picked up by Tokyo detective Kiichi Mihara, brought into events by the corruption scandal brewing in the background in which the male half of the dead couple was embroiled. Mihara and Torigai work together at first, then Mihara returns to Tokyo and proceeds to travel the length and breadth of the country to follow up on various ideas that occur to him, before he reconnects with Torigai via letter and the devious nature of what unfolded is revealed.

He was sure the basic facts were indeed as claimed. But he also felt as if her were gazing up at the smooth surface of an edifice that concealed, somewhere in its depths, a more devious truth.

Somewhat like Clifford Witting last week, this sounds like my exact type of book — I’m a huge Croftian, after all, and this should fall into that sort of humdrum investigation. Except, well, the distinction with Crofts, I’d argue, is that his novels generally feel more materially sound, with each step progressing the investigation in meaningful ways, whereas here it’s page 106 (of 149) before a preposterously simple idea occurs to either investigator. Now, in fairness, there’s a historical reason for this, but it still doesn’t make any of what precedes it less frustrating; nothing really surprises you or makes you reevaluate what you knew. The design is very obvious early on, and it’s fun to watch the slow grinding of organisational gears, but, man, is it also difficult to get excited about.

One of the book’s strongest factors is the highly readable translation by Jesse Kirkwood, which finds some lovely imagery and turns of phrase to render the somewhat thin plot more appealing. And as a picture of a country in post-war transition, with Western influences ever-more prevalent among the middle classes, it has moments of interest, too. But as a narrative with people you can engage with or a plot to challenge the brain, it lacks. Yes, the focus on rigorous, careful procession is pleasing, and will delight many, but as a fan of the Humdrum school I have to say this left me with a greater understanding of why some people don’t like the Humdrum school.

Japanese translations are becoming delightfully more prevalent in the Western world — mirroring, perhaps, the intrusion of Western culture into Japan 70 years ago — and it will always be interesting to see what different cultures did with the traditional mystery form, even when they’re not completely successful (hell, many a native English speaker has written an unsuccessful novel of detection — that’s why the genre remains so appealing, because it’s hard to do right…!). I like Matsumoto’s commitment to a less obvious milieu and crime, and would be intrigued to read further, but this one is, I feel, for unsuspicious detail nerds who like a light side serving of history. Kirkwood does superbly well with what he has, however, and it would be great to see more from him in future.

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Aidan @ Mysteries Ahoy: The discoveries, when they come, are not particularly shocking. Indeed I would suggest that many readers will be baffled that at least one or two ideas didn’t occur to the police investigators significantly earlier in the tale. What makes the case interesting then is not some surprise that is pulled but the manner in which each small, rather ordinary revelation is carefully pieced into a bigger, broader picture of the crime. Several key ideas are established through clear, logical reasoning, making this a more interesting puzzle than you find in most police procedurals.