Book Review: A Bitter Taste by Josh Reynolds
The popular Japan-inspired fantasy mystery series reaches a tipping point.
Aconyte Books, 2024
The priest’s presence came as something of a surprise to Shin, but he was careful not to let it show on his face as Tetsua glanced up from the board and gave Shin a lingering gaze. “So glad you could join us, Lord Shin. I trust we are not taking you away from anything important.”
“I was sulking,” Shin said blithely. “A good sulk does wonders for the soul.”
I normally wouldn’t review the fifth book in a long running series, but Josh Reynolds’ Daidoji Shin mysteries deserve a wider readership. For context, the series occurs in the mythical realm of Rokugan, a fantasy-Japan analogue originally developed for a collectible-card playing game in the 1990s. I will admit I’m not familiar with the wider setting for the games, but that doesn’t matter on the basis that Reynolds’ has done a sterling job of inserting his golden age detective stories within the setting. Having now read all the books, I can confidently suggest the fantastical/magical elements (that could put readers off) are scaled so far back, the series could conceivably have been marketed as Japanese historical fiction.
In A Bitter Taste, Shin - the estranged grandson of a clan lord - investigates the murder of one of the his grandfather’s chief auditors, a task made all the more difficult by the fact Shin is the primary suspect. I won’t say too much more as the novel weaves together plot threads and characters from previous entries in the series, but if you were to pick up Book 1, expect witty repartees as Shin does battle with his words and intellect with a growing ensemble. The series is a staple for me, and I hope Reynolds writes many, many more.
This review originally appeared in Dispatch Edition #3.
The Dispatch is a monthly roundup by British speculative fiction writer, Jordan Acosta. News, short reviews and more, published every first Thursday. You can subscribe at jordanacosta.co, and read previous editions, here.
