Edogawa Ranpo is Japan's most famous mystery writer. His stories have been translated and adapted into various formats: movies, comics, anime, and bizarre superpowered bishounen with only the vaguest link to the original author. Even famed horror mangaka Junji Ito has adapted some of his short stories. But while any seasoned reader of Japanese literature would be familiar with Ranpo's detective fiction, very few of them are familiar with, or perhaps dare to acknowledge, his contribution to queer literature.
Ranpo's most well-known English language debut was Japanese Tales of Mystery and Imagination. This was a painstaking collaborative effort between Ranpo who could read in English but not speak it, and his translator who could speak Japanese but not read it. Based on the title and his pseudonym, you can tell Ranpo was a huge fan of English horror writer Edgar Allan Poe. So honestly, "mystery" is an inadequate descriptor of his writing. His stuff is part mystery, part horror, part bizarre.
Ranpo was a contributor to the eroguronansensu (literally erotic, grotesque, nonsense) genre of the early 20th century. True to its name, it was basically full of shock factors that pushed the boundaries of society. Kinky sex, gore, medical sensationalism — pulp fiction at its finest. The Japanese government did ban a lot of these works, but publishers got around censorship by distributing them underground.
From 1929-1930, Edogawa Ranpo published Demon of the Lonely Isle (Kotou no Oni) serially in the magazine Asahi. And it does have all the weird shit he loves, though I won't reveal all to avoid spoilers.
Ever since his school days, our protagonist Minoura has known that his good friend Michio has been in love with him. Minoura has rejected all of Michio's advances but still considers him a friend. The two men grow up; Michio becomes a surgeon while Minoura becomes an accountant at a firm that bores him to death. Minoura is handsome but quite average; despite that, he quickly falls for his coworker Hatsuyo. The two fall in love but just as they are about to be married, Hatsuyo is murdered. As Minoura struggles to solve the crime, Michio gets involved, and it goes from orthodox murder mystery to a conspiracy thriller with horrors beyond imagining…
I'm saving the review of the actual book for the end so skip ahead if you're only interested in that. Honestly, I've been a fan of Ranpo for the longest time and I've wanted to read this book for years now. I'm so glad to finally have an English translation by Alexis J. Brown. I think what strikes me the most is that this is the earliest book I've read that treats its queer character (Michio) with such complexity and tenderness. This isn't subtle queer-coding either; Michio is explicitly labeled as homosexual in-text. Him and the MC have a complex friendship that I'll get into later. Michio isn't an entirely good man, but the narrative treats him with enough sympathy that it truly moved me.
After WWII, Ranpo and his friend Junichi Iwata had a light-hearted competition on who could find more literature and historical references on male homosexuality. Iwata focused on creating a history of homosexuality in Japan while Ranpo focused on the West. Ranpo was particularly very interested in Ancient Greece at that time, while Iwata wanted to prove that male-male love was truly Japanese and not just some foreign import. I don't just mean a Western import; there was the idea that it was a Chinese import, along with Buddhism. And yes, Buddhist monks have a lot to do with Japanese homosexuality but that's an essay for another time.
Unfortunately, Iwata died before publishing all of his work. Despite this, Ranpo actively supported and endorsed his research. Ranpo himself published his own essays but I haven't been able to find English translations.
Ranpo was also friends with Shiro Hamao, another eroguronansensu writer who could be considered one of the earliest modern gay rights activists. In the early 20th century, Japan had begun to adopt Western modes of pathologizing sexuality and systemic homophobia. Hamao was very much against this, and said homosexuality was an innate aspect and thus homosexuals should not feel shame. But in truth this was because Hamao knew that male homosexuality had always been a part of pre-modern, pre-Western Japan. This is true, by the way — many daimyo and samurai practiced nanshoku and had male lovers, though you don't hear about that much for obvious reasons. Do note that ever since the Americans forcibly opened up Japan to the world in the Meiji era, Japan took to modernization (aka Westernization) with gusto… after all, it would be one way to gain power in this new global stage. Thus began their staunch militarization and adoption of Western ideals, one of which is taking after the Western sexologists of the time.
So we've already established that Ranpo had queer interests, but he also liked controversial stuff in general. I honestly expected all the usual queer tropes of classic literature: Michio would be the titular demon, he would be awful, etc… but was very pleasantly surprised to find something else entirely.
First off, Demon of the Lonely Isle has a modern writing style but it is still from 1929 so expect some offensive content lmao. This is especially in regards to the terms it uses for the disabled characters, though they are also sympathetic.
It's technically a novella so it's a short, easy, and fun read. I mean, the subject matter is messed up but I think a 21st century reader would be a little more desensitized lol. The first half is very much an old-fashioned orthodox murder mystery. Hatsuyo was murdered in a locked room with no witnesses… How did that happen? Then there's a second murder that takes place in broad daylight, in front of dozens of witnesses who didn't see anything… this is the sleuthing Ranpo is known for, and fans of Agatha Christie will be delighted.
The second half of the book is more of a thriller with our protagonists trying to catch the killer and unearthing a horrible decades-long conspiracy in the process. They travel to the so-called lonely isle which is a desolate, deadly, and decayed place of hopelessness. This section has some adventure story vibes with its buried treasure, forbidden romance, underground labyrinths and well, more murder.
So if you're already a fan of Japanese mystery fiction then you'll enjoy this. But I think what sets this novel apart is its characters and their relationships with each other. So yeah, let's talk about the homoerotic CONTEXT — about Minoura and Michio.
Just offhand, I find it funny that the first real mention of Michio is when the narrator is musing about how his fiance finds him handsome… RIGHT BEFORE THEY'RE ABOUT TO GO TO A HOTEL TOGETHER
"[About Michio's feelings] I’d never felt the same way, but as far as I could tell I’d matched the selection criteria of this hard-to-please handsome young man, noble in body and spirit, so at the very least this gave me a degree of confidence in my own appearance.
"But there will be an opportunity to go into my relationship with Michio later on. Let me instead return to that first night with Kigiki Hatsuyo in that out-of-the-way hotel, one I remember so clearly even now."
Later, Minoura dictates how him and Michio became such good friends. And honestly, er, it reads very nanshoku which Ranpo would have definitely been aware of at that time. Many other writers of this time discussed the reality of student homosexual relationships (gay male ones and lesbian ones), with various opinions. So I am sure he did this on purpose. Minoura is made to be aware of Michio's feelings, but he never feels any disgust as a student:
"Again, I was fully aware of what we were doing. Sometimes he would zealously squeeze my fingers with his own and though I pretended not to notice and put up no resistance, my heart would flutter, though I never squeezed back."
He doesn't push Michio away… but he doesn't return his feelings either. I think it's quite telling that the only times Minoura uses harsh words to describe Michio's homosexual feelings for him are once he becomes an adult, when he's supposed to have "grown" out of such childish feelings. Michio, however, pursues Minoura even after they have graduated. In fact, Michio is so jealous of Minoura and Hatsuyo that he himself tries to go between them and offer Hatsuyo his hand in marriage—though she isn't interested.
Note that when the English translation refers to Michio as a "misogynist" I strongly suspect Ranpo is using a historical wording that also referred to gay men in Edo era Japan.
Michio knows Minoura isn't interested in him. Minoura is supposedly very straight; he falls in love with women in-universe passionately. And Michio does do some heinous things considering his inability to accept rejection… but I honestly was surprised by how much Minoura, and the narrative, forgives him. Because Minoura considers him a good friend to the very end; he even finds comfort in Michio repeatedly once things get hopeless…
Here are some of my favorite lines:
"My suspicions ran deep and I wasn’t going to be taken in so easily by Michio’s excuses, no matter how plausible or how persuasively he put them. Although I’m embarrassed to say, I behaved like a spoiled child in his embrace. It occurred to me later that whether unconsciously or to cover my shame at raising my voice and sobbing so openly, I perhaps felt the need to be cosseted by this man who loved me still."
"Added to this, the type of relationship that existed between Michio and myself meant we were more than just “friends”; Michio’s affection for me was atypical, and though I didn’t really comprehend how he felt, I understood it on an intellectual level; and just like any normal romantic sentiment it wasn’t distasteful; so when we were face to face, there was a kind of sweet sexual tension in the air. This tension perhaps made our “Investigation HQ” all the more enjoyable."
"I could hear his steady breathing and feel it hot against my cheek. His clothes were sodden, and his muscles taut, but his embrace warm. I was hit by the smell of his body which was pleasant to my senses. All this reassured me. Thanks to Michio I was able to stand again"
And a SPOILER ALERT for the final line of the book, which moves me deeply:
"My son, Michio, never called out for me or his mother. Until his very last breath he clasped one of your letters to his breast. It was you, and you alone, he kept asking for."
It would have been so easy to demonize Michio's homosexuality in this horror novel — but Ranpo didn't. Because Ranpo and his friends were sympathetic to the queer experience, because they knew their history, because they knew the world was shifting right in front of them. We can never know the author's sexuality. He was married and had kids, though this is weirdly not referenced in English sources, but I don't think any of that matters, because his work is one of the kindest things I've seen from that era. And he wrote spooky stories for a living.
One hundred years ago, Shiro Hamao was remembering an era where men loved men freely. And I am comforted to find connection with these dead writers who lived a century ago and thought the same. The truth is, we've always been here — and you are not alone.