Are there many novels that celebrate and champion persistence? Do all cops in novels ignore authority and tackle the weight of bureaucracy through ignorance? Early reviews pointed me to a challenge.
Inspector Imanishi Investigates by Seichō Matsumoto is a post-World War II novel originally penned in 1989. The lead protagonist, unsurprisingly, is Inspector Imanishi. He is a world apart from the rebellious bulldozing Harry Bosch found in Michael Connelly’s novel series. Instead, Imanishi is methodical, modest, and clinically human in his approach. He persists without need of a lightbulb moment or an act of genius. At every turn Inspector Imanishi displays empathy. He listens. He feels the victims’ lives. He endures whilst remaining ethical and responsible. The fog of guilt lurks. Grief and shame wallow. The good Inspector appears to put himself in others’ shoes.
What happens when guilt becomes unbearable? Drawing on a contrast of a post-war reshaping metropolitan Tokyo and that of rural provincial Japan, this book uses geography, culture, and traditional etiquette to deliver the truth. Themes of memory and recollection, urban alienation, interconnectedness, societal and historical tensions. The slow movement of justice’s machine underlines the need for structure and hierarchy but appears to comment on a lack of urgency. What secrets live between city lights and village shadows? Can you bury a crime in a country still healing?
How well can you really hide from who you were? The plot features new names, misdirection, reinvented pasts to escape guilt, shame, and consequences shows disguise as social-cultural adaptation. In an ambiguous world, the detective is a constant: deeply moral. Rarely does a slow-burn of a book stand out, yet from the opening chapter to the conclusion, I was hooked. The jigsaw was essentially a lesson in the importance of detail. Like a cold-poured Guinness, “Good things come to those who…. wait.” The novel’s ending seemed more reflective than triumphant yet left me wanting more. Was reluctant justice enough? Does empathy make the best detective?
Matsumoto’s Inspector Imanishi Investigates is a novel celebrating persistence and realism. It is the antidote to flashy books filled with spectacle and glamour. The notes of fading traditional values give hints at a nation’s people suffering an identity crisis – or at least instability causing a social flux. I found myself pondering, how much of our world’s remembered reality was misremembered? Can patience solve what brilliance cannot? Is closure enough when lives have already been lost?
mystery
Spiralling down.
The awesome of the mysterious light, radiating through a fine mist, drifting towards me was mesmerising. The patterns like straps on a parachute ascending upwards like a triangle missing its uppermost plain.
I tried to video it and take photographs. Even as Panda, my dog, nudged me to throw his ball, I pondered, wondered, and questioned what it could be. I knew from the object’s translucent state, it couldn’t be a drone. The misty form transformed passing rays of light outwardly. I queried all my logic. It couldn’t be a weather balloon. Not even a burst one.
I watched as it appeared to disappear and pass directly overhead. Then reappear, fade, and appear once more. I could see satellites passing overhead, far above this unidentified floating object. And aircraft flashing way up high. Its course stayed true, from Moston toward Clayton, Manchester. I pinged an image and video to my space expert friend Dan. He has raised his twin boys on a diet of the outer limits and knowledge.
An excited reply came back, “Maybe a rocket launch. SpaceX? I’ll ask Alex.” One of the twins would know or have a better idea. The light orb appeared to fan out like that of a ship’s rudder. Was this a projection? A hologram? No visible beams could be seen in the very clear sky. Not even a cloud. For Manchester, without a cloud is a spectacle itself!

Alex and Dan came back by message, see SpaceX launch in Florida, a few who’s previous. And that’s when looking at they sky became ruined again. Mites danced in the highest of visible atmosphere. The satellite pathways of Starlink and so on. Hundreds and thousands. Many of which become visible all too often. What would our ancestors make of it?
From hunter-gatherers of old to modern and better equipped people, eyes to their skies has been normalised and led to discovery and theories, or stories and moments of magic. I’ll confess this fuel dump by SpaceX was enchanting. Until I thought about the waste. The atmospheric dumping of gases and liquids. What would be the consequences? My adopted cousin Anthony commented, “Elon is pissing on us all.” He’s right. The days of Mulder and Scully are limited.
Mystery box.
晚上好
I have a box.
At breakfast the box shall open.
What’s in the box?
What could it be?
It’s not my birthday.
What mystery lies within?
An unexpected box.
It’s labelled to me.
What could it be?
For Mr Bee?🐝
晚安