A successful mystery for me, I've concluded, is an engaging mixture of character, place, and plausibility. If the detective, the killer (you have to have a killer), and the supporting cast are not convincing, the mystery fails. If the author is able to evoke a place and the local culture—Bangkok, Tibet, Ghana, Sicily, places I know nothing about first hand—so much the better. Indeed, following an interesting detective around the landscape as he/she interviews witnesses, collects clues, and makes associations is almost all I want in a novel.
Michael Pronko's debut, The Last Train: A Tokyo Mystery is doesn't do that and in fact is satisfying on all three counts: character, place, and plausibility.
to his bio, Pronko has lived in Tokyo for twenty years. He has a BA in
philosophy from Brown, an MA in comparative literature from Wisconsin,
and a PhD in English from the University of Kent at Canterbury. He is a
professor of American Literature at Meiji Gakuin University and has
published three collections of essays about Tokyo. He says about The Last Train,
"My book goes into the realities of Tokyo, the biggest city in the
world, looks at the injustices of economics and the unfair position
women are put into. It's not just 'set in' Tokyo, it's about Tokyo, in and of Tokyo."
book begins by following a lovely, and determined young woman as she
throws a drunken man into the path of the night's last express train.
In Chapter 2 we meet Hiroshi Shimizu, a police detective specializing white-collar crime, and his senpai, Takamatsu. A senpai
is a senior, superior, predecessor, mentor; someone whose calls you
take. The body on the tracks is a problem for the police: An American
businessman. No sign of robbery. Unlikely to have simply fallen. Yet not
someone who would kill himself. The American consulate is interested,
as is the American Chamber of Commerce. Takamatsu wants Shimizu on the
case because Hiroshi, after college in Boston and a romance with an
American woman, speaks fluent English.
Pronko tells his story from the points of view of both Hiroshi and Michiko Suzuki, a woman strong enough and skillful enough in akido martial arts to throw a man in front of a train (and a former sumo
wrestler through a plate glass window). Both are well-rounded and their
motivations comprehensible. Pronko has lived in Japan long enough to
understand the nuances of Japanese culture and behavior. We
understand—if not agreeing with—Michiko's decisions, which echo those of
the 47 ronin, the loyal retainers who took revenge on the lord who
caused their lord's disgrace and death.
Hiroshi and Takamatsu (until he ends up in the hospital after tangling
with Michiko) and Sagamichi, the former sumo wrestler, as they visit the
Roppongi entertainment district, goes to temples, corporate offices,
and industrial wasteland in their effort to make sense of what they
learn. In a set piece at the end, Hiroshi fights his way through the
maze of Shinjuku Station, something anyone who has been there can
empathize with. You don't have to know anything about Japan to enjoy The Last Train, but if you do, much of it will resonate—even learn something new as I did.