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A review by mackenzi
Beast in the Shadows by Edogawa Rampo
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
In October I'm going through some of my "books of interest" tbr (over 1700 books, yikes), shortest to longest. Each book I read this month needs to be longer than the last. Second on my list is Beast in the Shadows, a Japanese mystery/thriller published in 1928, 96 pages long.
There is something really interesting and almost dizzying about this little story, if one goes into it with the right mindset. Beast in the Shadows must be considered not just from the time-period and place it was written, which means it is tied to a different set of standards than what we're used to in the modern day, but also its length. 96 pages should clue you in that there is more than just the plot beats of the story, which will go by very quickly, but a concept that is being played with. And much like a carnival ride or funhouse excursion (or as Stephen King so aptly put it, a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger), we're focused on the journey, the experience of each page, not the destination. In fact, it's good to keep in mind that the short story/novella, much like a carnival ride, is entirely fabricated experience to put us through a swift and potent series of feelings, thoughts, and sensations, and the destination is the same place you started, completely unrelated to the excursion you just experienced.
So what does Beast in the Shadows offer us as a short but jarring carnival ride, or mysterious blind makeout session? It tells its mystery through the eyes of a very specific character; a successful detective novelist, specializing in crime stories solved through the art of deduction. This man has very specific and strong opinions, which he lays out with the cold confidence of one who states his opinion as fact. (I am familiar of his type because I can so often be him, so good luck reading any of my book reviews.) Here is the opening few paragraphs of the book word for word:
There is something really interesting and almost dizzying about this little story, if one goes into it with the right mindset. Beast in the Shadows must be considered not just from the time-period and place it was written, which means it is tied to a different set of standards than what we're used to in the modern day, but also its length. 96 pages should clue you in that there is more than just the plot beats of the story, which will go by very quickly, but a concept that is being played with. And much like a carnival ride or funhouse excursion (or as Stephen King so aptly put it, a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger), we're focused on the journey, the experience of each page, not the destination. In fact, it's good to keep in mind that the short story/novella, much like a carnival ride, is entirely fabricated experience to put us through a swift and potent series of feelings, thoughts, and sensations, and the destination is the same place you started, completely unrelated to the excursion you just experienced.
So what does Beast in the Shadows offer us as a short but jarring carnival ride, or mysterious blind makeout session? It tells its mystery through the eyes of a very specific character; a successful detective novelist, specializing in crime stories solved through the art of deduction. This man has very specific and strong opinions, which he lays out with the cold confidence of one who states his opinion as fact. (I am familiar of his type because I can so often be him, so good luck reading any of my book reviews.) Here is the opening few paragraphs of the book word for word:
"It sometimes seems to me that there are two types of detective novelist. One, you could say, is the criminal sort, whose only interest is in the crime and who cannot be satisfied when writing a detective story of the deductive kind unless depicting the cruel psychology of the criminal. The other is the detective type, an author of very sound character whose only interest is in the intellectual process of detection and who is indifferent to the criminal's psychology.
Now the detective novelist I am going to write about, Ōe Shundei, belongs to the former category, while I fall into the latter.
Accordingly, while my business is concerned with crime, I am in no way a bad person, for my interest is in the scientific deduction of the sleuth. Indeed, it might even be apt to say there are few as virtuous as me.
The real mistake is that such a well-meaning person as me accidentally became involved in the case. Were I somewhat less virtuous, had I within me the slightest trait of evil, I could perhaps have come through without regrets."
Just the first page and it practically knocked me flat. In these words he tells you how he sees the world; or at least, how he is interpreting the events he is about to relay to you; or perhaps, how he wants you to understand the events after the fact. And if you enjoy thinking about the difference between those three possibilities, you may just enjoy this little novella.
So this man tells you his story, and you get to experience the pleasant mind-cracking of having a conversation that seems almost normal except for the peppering in some truly insane takes. Events are repeated, gone over again, and then again, sometimes with new additions and sometimes with revisions. This is the main attraction of this carnival ride; as the main character re-examines every aspect with what he considers logical deduction, we realize we're not talking to a normal human, but to a dyed-in-the-wool crime novelist, a writer, a weaver of tales, a professional imaginer, and that what he considers deduction is really him constructing a narrative. Circumstantial is the kindest euphemism we can give to some of his leaps of logic. Yet he keeps plowing forward with NO hesitation. And the deeper into the story you're drawn, the more you wonder what details are actually true.
Reading in translation, sometimes I'm painfully aware of what can't be translated. Japanese novels can often feel somewhat dry or detached to me because of the nature of their writing and grammar (and my personal love of purple prose). Add to that my lack of knowledge of writing standards from a century ago, it's hard to pick up on author intention with regards to this character's flagrant lack of self-awareness. For example, when the main character states "I am in no way a bad person" and "were I somewhat less virtuous" it is hard to tell exactly the levels of irony we're working with. Someone in my time and place could praise themselves if done humbly enough, hedged behind plausible deniability. "I know I'm not the best judge of character, but I can recognize deceit" for example. Someone could also say "I'm not a bad person" and it wouldn't seem comical in most situations. Many of us want to believe this about ourselves on some level, so it's a relateable idea. So, was the intention of the author was to make a man so lacking self-awareness it goes past comedy and becomes painful? Or is this just a layer of irony like icing on a cake, a fellow who recognizes he has made some dreadful mistakes but fears more being seen as foolish, gullible or worst of all, like a bad person?
Of course, that is part of the draw of this story. I wish I had more clues in the character's mannerisms and modes of speech, but even with the cultural barrier, it was entertaining to be pushed and pulled along. When this story spits you out it really makes you question whether or not any of it was "real," which is a great accomplishment for a work of fiction less than 100 pages. Or is that just the narrative I've woven about this little book to get you to read it? There is only one way to find out.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Murder