Review by Frank Plowright

Sasaki is a student if not specifically taking a course on criminal psychology, then certainly taking a course including the subject. He’s first seen as part of a class where a lecturer is analysing a picture drawn by a killer. Shortly afterwards he’s guided to a blog that at first seems utterly mundane in detailing the home life of a couple expecting a baby.

Kikou Aiba is adapting a novel by mysterious author Uketsu, who only ever appears under that identity masked and employing a voice changer, which is plain weird. So, eventually is Strange Pictures, but in a different way. Many pages are spent in the company of Sasaki reading the blog until the bombshell drops. There’s a puzzle within what’s online, considerable gaps between some entries, and plenty more pages are occupied with disclosures about how what seems mundane can actually be analysed to provide additional information. Sasaki’s obsession soon leads him down a rabbit hole, accompanied by his friend Kurihara, the person who first mentioned the blog.

Were it not for Strange Pictures already being a successful novel, the feeling would be that Aiba’s adaptation will only find a limited audience. Such is the forensic detail in which every aspect of the blog is analysed it requires a patient reader despite the attractive art. So much needs explained, and without the anchor of a substantial reason other than curiosity it’s difficult to want to be along for the ride. Plus, with such obsession about questioning the blog’s minor details, why is it that so much is taken for granted? Why accept that there’s a Ren Nanashino writing the blog in the first place?

Anyone who is captivated by the mystery and wonders what the big secret is might want to pay close attention at the start. Or is that just a red herring?

The final chapter switches focus to a woman with a young child worried about being followed. What does she have to do with the remainder? You’re not going to find out until Strange Pictures 2.

This isn’t a crime story for everyone, as this opening volume makes everything seem so fanciful, even taking into account a necessary suspension of some belief. Still, as noted, the book from which this is adapted was a success, so perhaps there’s a payoff.