The first novel I read by Laura Joh Rowland was The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria and I was immediately struck by the author’s ability to make medieval Japan come to life. The Concubine’s Tattoo is earlier in the series featuring Sano Ichiro (but not the beginning) and every bit as vivid and brilliant.
Even though I enjoy reading a number of authors who set their mysteries in medieval or ancient Europe, I find the Asian setting of Rowland’s novels refreshing. It’s a glimpse into another culture which sets her works apart. European courts were full of conspiracies, schemes and intrigue but that all pales in comparison to the environment at the shogun’s palace in Edo in 1690.
The Concubine’s Tattoo opens with the death of one of the shogun’s many concubines Harume. Fearing she died of disease, the shogun calls in his honorable investigator Sano Ichiro to determine if the palace is at risk from contagion. Sano, whose wedding festivities were interrupted and postponed by Harume’s death throes and the ensuing panic, quickly ascertains that the concubine was poisoned. It’s well-known but not discussed openly that the shogun’s tastes run toward men rather than women. It comes as no surprise to Sano that Harume, a woman of youth and unparalleled beauty, had a lover, someone for whom she tattooed herself. He is shocked to learn that she was pregnant when she met her demise.
Sano finds that Harume may have had a number of admirers and wannabe suitors and not all of them were men. Who was jealous enough to murder her and the possible future shogun of Japan?
Confounding his efforts is his sworn enemy Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who is certain that Sano will not replace him as the shogun’s favorite. Also frustrating him is his new wife Reiko, fiercely independent and headstrong. For much of the book, they butt heads as she tries to convince him to let her help with his investigation. She is eager to prove that she is a good detective and worthy to aid him. Sano is horrified since he was expecting an obedient unassuming traditional Japanese wife.
Rowland depicts late seventeenth century life in Japan’s court with stark realism and transports the reader there. Her biggest strengths are the characters she develops. She’s almost feminist in The Concubine’s Tattoo since all the women are strong, independent and intelligent. Some of the men, those with a lot of power mainly, are rather hen-pecked. Even Sano must bow to the whims of his bride Reiko.
Another aspect of Rowland’s novel that sets her apart is the amount of eroticism. She unabashedly writes lively scenes of men and women coupling as well as same-sex partners. But she uses them to advance the plot as opposed to just spicing up the action.
Since her main character is a samurai, there is no shortage of exciting fight scenes. Here Rowland spices up the action with sword play and other Japanese weapons.
I found The Concubine’s Tattoo a very exciting and satisfying read. It gives us a rare insight into a world where few mystery writers take us.
Even though I enjoy reading a number of authors who set their mysteries in medieval or ancient Europe, I find the Asian setting of Rowland’s novels refreshing. It’s a glimpse into another culture which sets her works apart. European courts were full of conspiracies, schemes and intrigue but that all pales in comparison to the environment at the shogun’s palace in Edo in 1690.
The Concubine’s Tattoo opens with the death of one of the shogun’s many concubines Harume. Fearing she died of disease, the shogun calls in his honorable investigator Sano Ichiro to determine if the palace is at risk from contagion. Sano, whose wedding festivities were interrupted and postponed by Harume’s death throes and the ensuing panic, quickly ascertains that the concubine was poisoned. It’s well-known but not discussed openly that the shogun’s tastes run toward men rather than women. It comes as no surprise to Sano that Harume, a woman of youth and unparalleled beauty, had a lover, someone for whom she tattooed herself. He is shocked to learn that she was pregnant when she met her demise.
Sano finds that Harume may have had a number of admirers and wannabe suitors and not all of them were men. Who was jealous enough to murder her and the possible future shogun of Japan?
Confounding his efforts is his sworn enemy Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who is certain that Sano will not replace him as the shogun’s favorite. Also frustrating him is his new wife Reiko, fiercely independent and headstrong. For much of the book, they butt heads as she tries to convince him to let her help with his investigation. She is eager to prove that she is a good detective and worthy to aid him. Sano is horrified since he was expecting an obedient unassuming traditional Japanese wife.
Rowland depicts late seventeenth century life in Japan’s court with stark realism and transports the reader there. Her biggest strengths are the characters she develops. She’s almost feminist in The Concubine’s Tattoo since all the women are strong, independent and intelligent. Some of the men, those with a lot of power mainly, are rather hen-pecked. Even Sano must bow to the whims of his bride Reiko.
Another aspect of Rowland’s novel that sets her apart is the amount of eroticism. She unabashedly writes lively scenes of men and women coupling as well as same-sex partners. But she uses them to advance the plot as opposed to just spicing up the action.
Since her main character is a samurai, there is no shortage of exciting fight scenes. Here Rowland spices up the action with sword play and other Japanese weapons.
I found The Concubine’s Tattoo a very exciting and satisfying read. It gives us a rare insight into a world where few mystery writers take us.
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