Hardboiled 'Private Detective' Is All a Misunderstanding: Chi Wei-jan Mocks Wu Cheng as the 'Iron Egg Detective' — Love Is the Fatal Flaw

Author Chi Wei-jan's 'Humanity Game: Private Detective 3' has recently been published. This series, now spanning 15 years, portrays Wu Cheng—a university professor and playwright—who, after experiencing a midlife crisis, fails to maintain his career and marriage, ultimately abandoning everything to become a 'private detective.' The series has gained international acclaim, winning Japan's 'Maltese Falcon Award.' Japanese critics have labeled the works as 'hardboiled'—a genre of tough, gritty crime fiction—but Chi Wei-jan calls this 'the biggest misunderstanding.'

On the 15th, INK Literary hosted a lecture titled 'The Detective's World: Inner and Outer,' featuring a dialogue between Chi Wei-jan and fellow writer Chang Kuo-li, discussing the inner and outer worlds of mystery writers.

Living in Tamsui, Chi Wei-jan notes that 'hardboiled' can also refer to boiled eggs, suggesting Wu Cheng should be called the 'Iron Egg Detective.' He defines this term as: 'a cynical, anti-sentimental figure whose actions aren't always legal and motives not always noble, yet who abides by the江湖 code.'

Chi Wei-jan insists, 'Wu Cheng is definitely not a tough guy.' Unlike classic hardboiled detectives who end affairs upon realizing a woman has ulterior motives, Wu Cheng always falls in love seriously. 'What I want to write about is that romance is Wu Cheng's greatest fatal flaw,' Chi adds. 'The most romantic thing in life is pursuit, and the peak of romance is the first kiss.' Hence, in the 'Private Detective' series, Wu Cheng is divorced and falls in love in every installment, with Chi always vividly describing that profound 'first kiss.'

Chi also explores how Wu Cheng differs from detectives in Eastern and Western literature. Regarding Japanese detectives, Chi observes they are 'rational, embodiments of justice, with professional ethics, yet detached from human life.' Many Japanese fictional detectives have no mention of family or marriage; some even have bizarre appearances, like bird's nest-like hair. 'Then I think, this guy probably doesn't eat, doesn't fall in love, maybe doesn't even bathe or wash his hair,' Chi remarks. He finds Japanese detective archetypes rigid—symbols of wisdom and stability, yet too mysterious and flat. 'Japanese detectives are quite boring. No one would want to date them, and they don't need to. They live for work and are never affected by cases.'

Turning to Western detective fiction, Chi jokes, 'It's as if you're not a detective unless you're an alcoholic, unless you're divorced, unless you listen to jazz.' Western detectives are 'lone birds,' often clashing with the system, resulting in chaotic personal lives and messy love affairs. Colleagues respect their expertise but dislike their lone-wolf style.

According to Chi, Western detectives, being alcoholic, lonely, and emotionally driven, often become sources of chaos. In contrast, Japanese detectives never cause disorder. Western detectives solve cases but frequently ruin them due to emotional or decadent factors, placing them between 'madness and genius.' Japanese detectives, meanwhile, are 'symbols of stability' but lack humanity. Chi emphasizes that Japanese novels focus on logical deduction—the so-called 'orthodox school'—with little exploration of the detective's inner world. In contrast, Western novels give equal or even greater weight to the detective's inner life and love affairs, sometimes making them obstacles to solving cases.

Bestselling author and 'Fried Rice Sniper' writer Chang Kuo-li echoed this, noting that European markets have grown tired of 'ruthless killer'-type 'Nordic noir' and have turned overseas, eventually discovering his book 'Fried Rice Sniper.' Though Taiwan's market is small, global publishers are translating Taiwanese works because they're seeking something different.