i continue to be impressed by the amount of meticulous research kitamura kaoru puts into these books, which conjure up a time when casual references to bruno taut, jean webster, edogawa ranpo, and croquettes at the shinseido parlor could all exist comfortably on the same page, as it were. i should note that what's impressive isn't the type or amount of references, but the way kitamura situates those references in the specific landscape of 1930s tokyo, through historical contingency. you could say that this makes the narrative rather blatantly oriented to the contemporary reader, but i found it more endearing than awkward.
the actual mystery bits continue to be extravangantly preposterous, but that's par for the course (and strangely endearing, too).