Father Brown - 1
The Father Brown series is quite unique among mystery novels. While most mysteries revolve around "tricks" and "twists" in a battle of wits like a puzzle, the Father Brown stories delve into the criminal's psyche through a "profiling" approach. This stems from the peculiar setup of the protagonist, Father Brown himself.
"Have you ever served as a priest, Master Homerus?"
"No."
"Ah, of course not. Sorry for the odd question. It's just... I felt such empathy for the priest's mindset in Father Brown. He comes across as profoundly devout."
As the title suggests, the Father Brown series features a priest as the protagonist. Naturally, his deductive process differs from typical detective novels. Father Brown hears the confessions of sinners in his daily life, making him intimately familiar with criminals' mindsets and methods. He understands the emotional shifts that lead them to crime, their regrets, and the scars on their souls. From this "understanding," he traces the criminal's psychology to uncover the truth. As a result, the strict "logic" emphasized in conventional mysteries often takes a backseat.
Garnier Cardinal seemed to find Father Brown's methods fitting as well.
"Of course, as a cardinal, I hesitate to comment freely on certain aspects—but if the 'New Church' friends read this, they'd surely love it. They're as tolerant and forgiving as Father Brown himself."
"The New Church, you say?"
"Yes. A knightly order directly under the Papal Court... dedicated to spreading the gospel beyond rigid classical doctrines."
"I see, there's such a thing."
"It's recent. Thanks to your influence, Master Homerus the Layman Saint."
"Pardon?"
The cardinal explained in detail how the New Church came to be. I was a bit stunned. I hadn't anticipated that our encounter would spark religious reform from within.
Garnier Cardinal continued as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
"The Savior said we must reach out to sinners, not just saints. Those lost and wandering are the ones who truly need the gospel. But if our eyes, clouded by doctrine and prejudice, can't reach their souls, how can we heal them? A doctor who doesn't listen to the patient can't cure the illness. That's why we created the New Church."
"Ah... I see."
It was surprising to hear a church cardinal admit he was "trapped by doctrine and prejudice." It essentially acknowledged the imperfection of doctrine itself. Perhaps this world, with its real gods, was more tolerant of specific creeds and methodologies.
"Father Brown seems to embody that tolerant spirit too. He doesn't suit an old priest like me, who sees everything in black and white...."
"Aren't you still quite young for a cardinal, Your Eminence?"
"Haha, I am the youngest among cardinals—the youngest ever, they say. But—"
In that moment, the cardinal's smile differed from his usual gentle one. It was lukewarm, weary, like someone exhausted to the bone.
"Age isn't just about years; some work ages you regardless."
"...I suppose so."
"So, let me introduce you to the New Church members. They'll be far more helpful than someone like me."
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
And so, I met the knightly order called the New Church—a name that felt oddly familiar.
"Hello! It's an honor to meet Master Homerus!"
"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you."
"I've read all your books with deep admiration! Could I possibly ask for your signature in this one?"
"Sure, of course."
The New Church priests were a bit different from what I'd imagined. I'd expected solemn, quiet piety, but they were cheerful and lighthearted—yet impeccably polite. No wonder the cardinal called them "tolerant."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome. By the way, I heard from Cardinal Garnier that you're especially tolerant and kind even within the church."
"Did he say that about us?"
"Yes. He praised you highly."
"I see. We call Cardinal Garnier the 'noble busybody cardinal.'"
"...Pardon?"
"You've heard his assessment of us, so it's only fair to share ours of him."
...What an eccentric bunch.
The other priests nodded along, so they all seemed cut from the same cloth. I wondered what criteria they used to recruit for this New Church knightly order.
"I see.... The reason I wanted to meet the New Church priests is to consult on writing a novel with a priest protagonist."
"To assist Master Homerus the Layman Saint in his writing—it's the honor of a lifetime."
"It's not that big a deal...."
"We mean it. To us New Church priests, your novels are no different from scripture."
"Pardon?"
"The Savior's words make us holy; Homerus's words make us drunk. That's the saying going around among young priests lately. It means many of us have been helped by your books."
"Ah, right...."
"So please, let us help with your writing."
"Yes, I look forward to working with you...."
This guy was praising me in the most earnest tone! I'd seen fans get excited and raise their voices, but a church priest doing it was refreshingly new. It went beyond tolerant—into something else entirely.
"This must be the manuscript. Father Brown... a fine name. Before reading, may I pray to the Lord for wisdom?"
"Uh? Sure."
"Lord of wisdom—"
Was he one of those overly immersed in religion in a weird way...? Hard to tell.
"Thank you. Now, I'll read the manuscript."
"Okay...."
With consultations from Cardinal Garnier and the New Church knightly order, the Father Brown series was published.
News that "Homerus" had written a mystery spread like wildfire across the empire. Even as a short story collection rather than magazine serialization, it sold out instantly. Fans of pulp fiction mysteries snapped it up without hesitation. This was due to the peculiar nature of mystery readers: the more mysteries they read, the more they crave newer, more abundant ones! While true of most genres, it was especially pronounced here. Mysteries demand strong genre conventions yet extreme originality in each work. Simply recycling a seen trick or plot kills the fun.
"A mystery by Homerus! The creator of Jekyll and Hyde writing a detective story? Can't wait to see how epic it'll be!"
"I prefer Herodotus's novels over Homerus... but mysteries are irresistible anyway."
The Father Brown series was a hit. Critics and veteran mystery fans alike raved.
"The Father Brown series brims with sincerity toward truth and profound humility! Think about it: no matter how deeply truth hides behind thick curtains in the dark, it always emerges in the light of day."
"A detective doesn't have to be a puzzle-solving machine. Deep interest in people—that's the wisdom that truly unveils the right truth."
But—
People naturally compare novels in the same genre, like Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin.
"Hmm, it's fresh, but... kinda boring. No sharp, stimulating punch to the brain, you know?"
"Stop reading crime novels already. Have you ever seen a story pierce the soul like this? What do you mean it's lacking stimulation? You skim so lightly, you miss the subtle psychology."
"What? And you, reading romances—lost your manhood?"
"Ha! How can someone ignorant of spiritual nobility grasp this novel's appeal?!"
"You bastard?!"
"Did I say anything wrong?!"
"Duel!"
"Duel!"
The issue was that, externally, these seemed like works by "different authors," not the "same one." It easily escalated into fandom wars—pride clashes among hardcore mystery fans.
"Homerus is the god of literature! Father Brown's psychological pursuit of criminals shows his deep care for the human soul! You don't get this fun?!"
"Herodotus is the god of mysteries! Cool reason and logic—that's what mysteries should pursue! For mysteries at least, Herodotus wins!"
"Didn't Homerus's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kick off the mystery genre?"
"But Herodotus perfected the detective novel! Isn't Father Brown just a Sherlock Holmes derivative?"
"I can't talk to you!"
"That's my line!"
"Then let's see who truly understands mysteries—duel, no, a contest!"
"Bring it!"
"The contest will be the 'Sherlock Holmes X Arsène Lupin Secondary Creation Contest'!"
Secondary Creation Contest
"What."
And conveniently, the massive "Sherlock Holmes X Arsène Lupin Secondary Creation Contest" event coincided. Mystery maniacs dove in to prove their "sincerity."
"Did you predict all this, young master?"
"A little...? I discussed with the publisher to nudge the atmosphere, but it took off better than expected."
In other words, every reader is a potential writer. What "Herodotus" does is give that potential writer's back a gentle push. That was all.