Last month, when Keigo Higashino died of colorectal cancer at the age of 68, reports of his passing seemed like a scene from one of his own novels — a private family funeral and a public mourning, with condolences pouring in on social media. For a fan of Higashino’s writings, the scene, so well described in so many of his novels, played itself out mentally as a sombre Japanese memorial service; you could even smell the incense sticks.

However, for his fans, one sentence rankled. In many reports, he was described as a “Japanese mystery novelist”. But Higashino was not merely a mystery writer; he was among Japan’s best writers. He was as much a chronicler of human nature and the country’s social norms and nuances as he was a writer of intricate, nippy police procedurals — a master storyteller who might have remained confined to his home country had translations not made him available to the world.

Published - August 06, 2026 08:30 am IST