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Archives for February 2011

Pick of the Week: Kinda, Sorta

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The pickings are slim this week at Midtown Comics, but it’ll take much worse to stop these bloggers from finding a way to spend their money.

From David: I’ve made a conscientious effort to like Kaori Yuki’s manga, but I’ve had limited success. I always end up appreciating the style but not getting invested in the story or characters. I’m happy to report that I’m having good luck with Yuki’s Grand Guignol Orchestra, so my pick for this week will be the second volume of that series. I wrote a brief review of it last week, and I’ll tempt you further with this brief snippet: “Our protagonists go undercover in a convent, looking for a sacred relic and investigating the grisly murders of young nuns. This mini-arc is shaping up to be both creepy and very funny, provided you find secretive nuns committing and subjected to unexpected violence funny, which, I assure you, I do.”

From Kate: Oh, manga, I’m stepping out on you this week. I just can’t muster the enthusiasm for Jormungand or Maoh: Juvenile Remix, and Biomega descended into incoherent nonsense two volumes ago. My pick, therefore, is issue six of The Walking Dead Weekly (Image). When I first heard that Image would be re-issuing the series, I was skeptical: who would really want to read it in weekly installments when The Walking Dead was already collected into trade paperbacks? Turns out the answer is me. The story is a familiar one, fashioned from the DNA of 28 Days, I Am Legend, and Dawn of the Dead, but it scores major points for brisk pacing, strong characterizations, and sharp artwork. What’s genuinely surprising, however, is just how well the story works in thirty-two page installments. The issues aren’t exactly self-contained, but each has a satisfying dramatic arc. I’m hooked!

From MJ: I, too, have difficulty getting behind any of this week’s new releases, so I’m going to follow David’s lead and pick out something that was technically released last week. I’m also going to go even further off our usual Midtown Comics list by choosing something available only online. My Pick is volume four of Sooyeon Won’s Full House, recently completed with the release of chapter six at NETCOMICS’ online portal. I’ve fallen a bit behind with this delicious screwball romantic comedy manhwa, but witness my enjoyment of the first two volumes here. This is a great time to pick up the series, even from scratch, with each volume coming in at $1.50 apiece ($.25 per chapter) for a 48-hour rental period. Though I do wish NETCOMICS offered some kind of ownership option, (preferably chapter downloads, though I’d settle for an eManga-style permanent rental) it’s hard to quibble with the price.

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Manhwa Monday: February Preview

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Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

With February finally underway, it’s time to take a brief look at this month’s upcoming manhwa releases! In keeping with the recent trend, there are few of these to report for February, though more than we had last month.

First, a belated listing for volume seven of Bride of the Water God from Dark Horse. Though Amazon (my source for these preview posts) lists a release date of February 8th, the volume actually appeared on shelves two weeks ago, bringing January’s release total up to… two. Yay?

This month, we’ve only got two print releases to look forward to, both from Yen Press. The first is volume five of JinJun Park’s zombie manhwa Raiders. Secondly, we’ll see volume six of one of my personal favorites, SangEun Lee’s supernatural romance, 13th Boy, Vol. 6, still consistently winning my heart with its understated whimsy, including talking cactus Beatrice.

On the digital front, NETCOMICS may finally be coming back to life, having recently released new chapters of both Sungmo Kim’s Emperor’s Castle and (another personal favorite) Sooyeon Won’s Full House. Though they’ve stopped short of scheduling any future chapter updates, new content after a few empty months does suggest hope. And following up on last week’s post, iOS publisher iSeeToon offers up a second trailer for their upcoming webtoon release, Ill-Fated Relationship.

This week in reviews, Angela Eastman takes a look at volume seven of Very! Very! Sweet (Yen Press) at Mania.com, and at A Reader of Fictions, Christina hates Sugarholic.

That’s all for this week!

Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!

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From the stack: The Summit of the Gods vol. 2

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The second volume of The Summit of the Gods (Fanfare/Ponent Mon), written by Yumemakura Baku and illustrated by Jiro Taniguchi, delves deeply into both the psychology and behavior of its characters, though one particular aspect of their psychology and the behavior it inspires remains utterly baffling to me. I can think of few things I’d rather do less than dangle from an icy mountain by a rope. Since that’s almost all these characters think about, one might anticipate some remoteness on my part as a reader.

This reaction is averted by the sheer density of the work – the madly detailed illustrations, the tense technicalities of climbing, and the oblique revelation of small aspects of the characters. I say small aspects because Baku and Taniguchi make virtually no attempt to answer the big question of how people can dedicate their lives to an activity that’s almost entirely perilous, no matter how prepared you may be.

There’s a lot of dialogue, but there’s very little in the way of speech-making. Nobody really gazes off into the middle distance and talks about the nobility of the climb or anything of that sort. That, to my way of thinking, would have been insufferable, not to mention unpersuasive. The point-of-view character, Fukamachi, has specific interests instead of theses to prove. His attempts to understand things that have happened are different than grasping at reasons or creating context.

Most of the time in this volume is spent with Fukamachi talking to people who know legendary, troubled climber Habu. He learns of an ill-fated climb in Europe and another in Tibet. He digs into the life story of one of Habu’s rivals, finding new ways that their respective careers intersected and ran parallel. Fukamachi has an ultimate goal and mysteries to solve, but he has no specific urgency in his efforts. He’s hearing too many interesting stories to want to bring the process to a speedy conclusion.

The same can be said of the book itself. It doesn’t really have an overwhelming momentum to it, though individual sequences are often very exciting. There’s a level of remove, an analytical quality even to the nail-biting moments that suggests the perspective of a detached (but not entirely unmoved) observer. It’s a very intellectual, meticulous approach to very visceral material, and a big part of the appeal of the series is that counterpoint.

Another part is Taniguchi’s undeniably beautiful illustrations. He exhibits great restraint and fidelity in the way he renders people, keeping them on the unglamorous side. They look average, if robust, instead of heroic, which raises the stakes when they risk their lives. And his breathtaking vistas are a marvelous substitute for seeing these peaks in person.

I’m not really sure where The Summit of the Gods fits in the seinen universe, with its cerebral muscularity. With the possible exception of Hiroshi Hirata’s Satsuma Gishiden (Dark Horse), it’s unlike just about anything else I’ve read, even from Taniguchi. It’s just a tremendously confident work, and it’s rare to feel that quality come through so clearly, yet so modestly at the same time.

Here’s my review of the first volume.

Men or maids?

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It’s time again for you to help me choose a title from the current Previews catalog. Here are this month’s candidates:

Your Story I’ve Known, written and illustrated by Tsuta Suzuki, Digital Manga (page 278):

High-school student Matsumoto Haato has fallen in love with his abusive mother’s ex-boyfriend, yakuza Shibusawa, who was nice to him in the past. When he has nowhere left to go he turns to the gruff but kind older man. A three chapter love story that details the changing relationships between the two men over the years.

I admit that I don’t find this description entirely problematic. I do tend to like to investigate yaoi titles fairly thoroughly to see if they meet my rather specific standards (which are very similar to MJ’s), and I’m not familiar with this one, its creator, or the magazine from which it springs (Takeshobo’s Reijin).

Maid Shokun, written by Nanki Satou and illustrated by Akira Kiduki, Tokyopop (page 311):

This slice-of-life manga is a lovely exploration of the inner workings of a Maid Cafe, filled with laughter and romance, joy and heartbreak. Maybe you’ve wondered what the ‘maids’ are like before or after work? Or perhaps you’ve wondered how they deal with a job where pleasing the customer is their top priority? Well, let’s introduce you to an adorable, delicate, attractive girl who gets drawn into such a job – and see this unusual story, filled with warmth and pathos, unfold!

I like slice-of-life manga! I like stories set in eateries! I’m utterly indifferent to maid panties. Also, boobies. Also, the Japanese cover to the third volume has to be seen to be believed. Also, Tokyopop’s solicitation text is sometimes singularly useless in evaluating a book’s true nature and the likelihood that I’ll enjoy it. Maid Shokun originally ran in Comic Gum from Wani Books.

So there are your choices. Please vote in the comments, either because you think I’ll be pleasantly surprised or because you want to see me suffer.

Previews review February 2011

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The findings from the current issue of Previews aren’t as extensive as they sometimes are, though there are new volumes of plenty of appealing series. And there are two exciting debuts on the artier end of the spectrum.

First up is Shigeru Mizuki’s Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths from Drawn and Quarterly (page 281). Here’s the rundown:

A landmark publishing event by one of Japan’s most famous cartoonists. Shigeru Mizuki is the preeminent figure of Gekiga manga and one of the most famous working cartoonists in Japan today. Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths is his first book to be translated into English and is a semi-autobiographical account of the desperate final weeks of a Japanese infantry unit at the end of World War II. The soldiers are told that they must go into battle and die for the honor of their country, with certain execution facing them if they return alive. Mizuki was a soldier himself, and he uses his experiences to convey the devastating consequences and moral depravity of the war.

It was originally serialized in Kodansha’s Gekiga Gendai in 1973. You may recognize Mizuki as the creator of GeGeGe no Kitaro. Drawn and Quarterly also plans to publish Mizuki’s Non Non Bâ, which earned top honors at Angoulême in 2007. A large quantity of his work has already been published in French.

Next is Usumaru Furuya’s Lychee Light Club from Vertical (page 316):

The Lychee Light Club is considered Usamaru Furuya’s breakthrough work. Originally designed as an experiemental project Lychee’s themes of youthful rebellion and deus ex machina destruction, and attractive designs eventually won over a new generation of readers and critics, leading the way for Furuya to take on his many recent high profile properties.

A surreal yet touching horror comedy Furuya’s Lychee Light Club that mixes elements of French Le Théâtre du Grand-Guignol and with modern day pop culture tropes and is set in modern day Tokyo. Shocking, sexy and innovative, the Lychee Light Club is at the pinnacle of modern day Japanese seinen manga (young adult comics).

It was originally published in Ohta Shuppan’s fascinatingly rangy Manga Erotics F.

So those are the highlights. Tomorrow, I’ll give readers another opportunity to pick a title for me that could be either intriguing or awful.

The Akiko Higashimura license pool

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You know what seems kind of weird to me? That nobody has licensed any manga from Akiko Higashimura yet. She’s been nominated for the Manga Taisho Award three times for three different titles. She was nominated for the Tezuka Cultural Prize in 2010, and she won the Kodansha Award in 2010. Of course, the admiration of one’s peers and critics doesn’t necessarily translate into something marketable.

And yet, there’s evidence that her highly regarded artistic sensibility yields commercially successful product. Kuragehime, which won the Kodansha, has been adapted into an animated series, which is available in the United States through Funimation as Princess Jellyfish. While it’s not unheard of for a josei series like Kuragehime (which ran in Kodansha’s Kiss) to be made into an anime, it’s still unusual enough to be impressive.

The manga also has the advantage of falling into the “Nerds, yay!” genre. It’s about an apartment building filled with female otaku. They describe themselves as “nuns,” and each has her own religion. The lead, who’s loved jellyfish since memorable trips to an aquarium with her mother, wants to be an illustrator and has moved to Tokyo to achieve that, but she’s cripplingly shy. She makes an outgoing new friend, though, who becomes her roommate. The friend turns out to be a cross-dresser from a well-connected political family who’d rather work in fashion.

So there are geeks, secret-identity shenanigans, big dreams, romance, and, if I’m correctly informed, the pernicious influence of gentrification. What’s the hold up? Based on existing enthusiasm, I’d imagine that Kodansha is waiting for the best offer, or to establish their outpost well enough to publish it themselves. It’s up to six volumes.

And if I’m going to be perfectly honest, I’d rather read her Himawari: Kenichi Legend, which is running in Kodansha’s Morning. It’s about another aspiring artist, this time a would be mangaka who toils at an office lady for the same company that employs her eccentric father. There are 13 volumes available so far, and I just get a good vibe off of it, particularly because it’s supposed to be loosely autobiographical.

Her current series is Omo ni Naitemasu, which I’ve seen translated as Mainly Crying, running in Morning and up to three volumes. As near as I can determine, it’s about an extraordinarily beautiful woman who lives a rather isolated life. It also has really striking covers, which is always a plus.

So what are your thoughts on Higashimura’s license prospects? She’s clearly talented and prolific, neither of which ever hurt a mangaka. Which of her titles tickle your fancy? Do you think any of them will be announced by the end of the year?

My official guess: Kodansha will announce Kuragehime at this year’s Comic-Con International.

Made in Heaven: Kazemichi and Juri

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Made in Heaven: Kazemichi and Made in Heaven: Juri by Ami Sakurai and Yukari Yashiki

Since I am a woman in her 30s I tend to cherish any manga that I stumble across that looks like it is aimed towards an older female audience. I’m not sure about where Made in Heaven was originally published, but it passes my personal test for josei since it features characters that aren’t in school who happen to have sex. Made in Heaven is a moody sci-fi romance. While I think that sometimes execution problems hampered the authors’ ambitions, this two volume series is worth picking up if you are looking for something a little different from the typical shoujo fare. It was published by Tokyopop in 2006, and I can see it fitting in well with some of the other early josei titles from that publisher.

Made In Heaven: Kazemichi starts out with the main character being in a horrific bike accident. He wakes up only to find out that his body was almost completely destroyed, and he’s been rebuilt with an artificial body. Kazemichi feels disconnected from the world, but he begins to find another reason to take interest in his surroundings when he meets a slightly older woman named Juri. One of the things I liked about this title was the casual way it was established that it takes place slightly in the future. Kazemichi’s surgery is impossible, and people dote on artificial pets that have the same type of fake skin that now covers him. Kazemichi and Juri bond over their pets and the way they both seem to not entirely exist for other people. Juri is known for being expressionless, but Kazemichi tells her that he can see her emotions on her face.

There’s a general feeling of impending doom throughout the book, as Kazemichi only has a little while to live until his artificial body wears out. He was able to get the expensive surgery because he’s essentially been sold as a test subject by his adoptive family. Kazemichi’s broken home, problems with the corporation that resurrected him, and his habit of keeping his problems secret from Juri point to an unhappy ending for the lovers. The art for the series features attractive character designs, but their facial expressions seem a little static. While this theoretically fits with Juri and Kazemichi’s personalities, there’s also so much facial fractions going on in the paneling for the manga where the reader only sees a half or quarter of a face that I think it is due more to artistic limitation than deliberate effect. This isn’t the type of manga to read if you are expecting a clear, linear plot. Elements of Kazemichi’s past like his occasional forays into male prostitution, his relationship with his half-sister, and the desire of the medical company to data mine Kazemichi’s body are mentioned but not fully explored. All of this adds up to a general feeling of melancholy, but nothing is fully explored.

The narrative aspect of this series that I found most interesting was the shifting point of view between volumes. When Kazemichi is gone, Juri is left on her own to piece together the mystery of his life in Made in Heaven: Juri. She works as a psychologist for the police department, and when she’s called in to figure out what happened in an inexplicable death that seemed to involve a machine exploding along with human remains she finds out the truth about Kazemichi. She’s left with regrets because they never really discussed their feelings, she always thought being in his presence was enough.

The mystery investigation aspect of this volume wasn’t as interesting to me as Juri’s emotional journey. She’s dedicated to finding out whatever she can about Kazemichi because she doesn’t want to let him go. A complicating factor is the way the company responsible for his existence captured his brain waves, meaning they have the ability to use aspects of his personality as they further develop prototypes that push the boundaries of artificial intelligence. Juri encounters robots that have an uncanny resemblance to her dead lover. She attacks it, thinking “I am not leaving…until I let you return back to nothing. If you no longer have a soul…I don’t think I can bear for you to even be seen again.” In the end, Juri finds a form of peace as she begins to understand Kazemichi more, and his meticulous planning allows her to gain a sense of emotional resolution.

I wondered what this series would have been like if there had been a little bit more space to tell the story. Still, I liked having Kazemichi and Juri each tell their stories, and I wish the narrative device of multiple points of view was used more often in manga. People who like having every loose end tied up at the end of a series might find these two volumes frustrating to read, but I enjoyed the melancholy tone of Made in Heaven. I’d recommend this short series for anyone pining for more josei to read.

Off the Shelf: Boobalicious

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MICHELLE: Welcome to a rather… special edition of Off the Shelf! Before we launch into our selections today, I wanted to provide a little background. Y’see, although I genuinely love a very wide spectrum of manga, no matter the demographic to which it’s aimed, there’s still one genre from which I instinctively steer clear: the blatantly fanservicey. When two debut series, each putting its cover to boobalicious use, were released in the same month, I decided to challenge myself to read them, hoping that beneath the titillating exterior I’d find a good story that I would’ve otherwise missed.

MJ: Boobies!

MICHELLE: Er, yes. Anyway, I enlisted MJto participate in this experiment along with me, which brings us to this evening’s mammarian extravaganza.

How went your forays into fanservice?

MJ: Well, they were mixed, to be sure. I’ll start from the bottom (so to speak) and move up. My first ultra-servicey selection was Mario Kaneda’s Saving Life, published in English by TOKYOPOP.

Haruhiko is a rich high school kid who has left home to escape his father’s influence. Living on his own is tougher than Haruhiko imagined. He’s pretty lonely in his new digs, and has even filled the place up with scavenged (mostly broken) appliances just to make the place feel less empty. On top of that, money troubles send him scraping for part-time jobs and scrounging for change from his school’s vending machines. Fortunately, his two closest childhood friends, Yoriko and Nanako (who just happen to be totally boobalicious babes) are waiting to come to the rescue!

Haruhiko’s accident-prone and super-clumsy (unless he’s working), so much of the story so far consists of him accidentally falling into one (or both) of the girls, often while they’re nearly naked, and there’s always some kind of water-related incident coming into play just in time to ensure that the girls’ clothes get soaked through.

Obviously story was never the point here, and Kaneda barely tries. I have to give high marks to the boobs, though. While it’s established early on that Haruhiko is an ass man, Kaneda doesn’t skimp on the chest area in the slightest. They’re all on the large side (but not toooo large), and Kaneda brings them into focus pretty much whenever possible. The worst part of this series’ fanservice is its contrived human pile-ups and blushing-shy-girl cheesecake poses the female characters are constantly maneuvered into.

I assume that this series’ target audience knows what it’s getting into here. Unfortunately, despite its perfectly nice boobies, I can’t recommend it for anyone else.

MICHELLE: Your description reminds me of the the time I tried to read Negima!. Though I’ve heard it develops a plot later on, the first volume was almost entirely girls tripping and sprawling over the young protagonist or him accidentally walking into someone’s bountiful bosom.

You bring up a good point: characterization counts with boobalicious ladies! Badass ones, like Revy from Black Lagoon (as seen here) do not trouble me one bit, especially if it seems that they dress the way they do because they want to and not to catch some fella’s eye. Boobalicious girls who simper and are brainless, however, make steam come out of my ears.

MJ: What’s a little sad, is that both Yoriko and Nanako have some interesting character traits and they’re generally not weak. But they’re always weak when Kaneda is overtly sexing them up, which is pretty gross to me.

So what bountiful bosoms do you have to share tonight?

MICHELLE: Interestingly, both of my picks are disaster/survival stories, so they’ve got much more plot than Saving Life seems to have.

First up is Highschool of the Dead, by Daisuke and Shouji Sato, a fast-paced action movie sort of manga in which a sudden zombie outbreak at Fujimi High School is just the latest development in a more widespread epidemic. A few resourceful students manage to escape the carnage, after many scenes in which classmates maul and/or kill one another, and the volume ends with the small band poised to check on their families and gauge the condition of the rest of the town.

Does it matter that I haven’t given you any characters’ names? No, not really. You’ve got the hotheaded guy, the girl who was his childhood friend, a geeky dude, a smart girl, the cool and composed female kendo captain, et cetera. No one has any depth, and a few things don’t make much sense, but at least some of the girls are given the opportunity to be strong and useful.

It’s certainly not a great manga, but I enjoyed it well enough—about on par with how I enjoy Raiders, another zombie-related Yen Press title—to want to see what happens next. (Plus, it earns a few bonus points for what might have been a Shaun of the Dead reference.)

But oh, the boobs. They are hideous. I think Kate Dacey called them something like “distended lemons,” and there’s really no better way to put it. The ones on the cover are bad enough—that pose is impossible and her arm looks like it’s on backwards!—but worse lurk within. I have seen my share of bodacious boobs, but never any that were so huge that they had to extend beyond the panel’s border! Behold:

Those are not attractive bosoms. Those are head-scratchingly bizarre bosoms. How can one pay attention to a zombie uprising whenever these avocados of doom keep thrusting themselves in one’s face?

MJ: Well, heavens. You know, I was so distracted by the hilariously unnecessary panty shots when I read this manga, I somehow missed the strange, missile-shaped boobs entirely. Also, I’m quite taken with the phrase, “avocados of doom.”

MICHELLE: Oh god, yes. Even scenes that I wanted to like for their grim depiction of human nature—for example, a pair of girls whose eternal friendship lasts precisely as long as it takes one of them to fall into a zombie’s clutches—are marred by gratuitous panty shots. I really don’t get the appeal. I conducted an informal poll of two whole guys and neither of them found it sexy, either. They could’ve been dissembling, I suppose, but I doubt it.

MJ: That was really the saddest thing about this book, wasn’t it? There was some stuff to say, after all. It may not be the most original stuff–this ground has been covered pretty extensively in nearly every medium-but it was there. Still, it’s the fanservice that drives the series, which is just kinda… icky.

MICHELLE: Yeah. In the end, I’ll be back for volume two, but I won’t be expecting much.

I take it you liked your second selection more than the first.

MJ: I did in a way, though not for itself, actually. My second pick was volume one of Spice & Wolf, adapted by Keito Koume from Isuna Hasekura’s novels. Yen Press is publishing both concurrently, which on one hand is pretty cool, but on the other, really exposes the weaknesses of the adaptation.

Kraft Lawrence is a traveling merchant who, after encountering a village harvest festival in the midst of his travels, discovers that the village’s harvest “god” (a 600-year-old wolf-spirit named Holo, who appears as a teen girl with a wolf’s ears and tail) has stowed away on his wagon. Anxious to return to her northern homeland, Holo begs to join Kraft on his travels, and though he’s initially a bit wary, Kraft agrees. As it turns out, 600 years of observing mankind has given Holo a great sense for both business and human nature, so she’s pretty useful as a merchant’s companion. Unfortunately, with the church so much in power, her supernatural appearance poses a threat to her survival.

This premise sounds fascinating, and honestly it is. But wordy explanations of medieval economics don’t necessarily translate well into visual storytelling, and unfortunately that’s what happens here. While the series’ first novel is a pretty good read, especially for fantasy fans who are weary of the usual swords and magic stuff, the manga’s debut volume plods endlessly along, so unsuited to full visual treatment, the illustrations feel like they’re actually in the way of the story.

Furthermore, while Jyuu Ayakura’s original character designs offer just the slightest taste of fanservice–more than enough, in my view, when the lead female reads visually as a very young teen–the manga’s prolonged nude scenes end up feeling just creepy. Holo’s childlike, impish expressions may be cute when she’s conning another merchant, but coupled with color pages filled with nude poses, it’s another story indeed.

In the end, I’d recommend picking up the novels, but leaving the manga alone. With a title this popular, I’m sure there are plenty of Holo artbooks out there for those who require their sexy teen fix.

Unlike Saving Life, Spice & Wolf gives Holo the full bare-breasted treatment, and since even I feel creepy discussing this with a character who looks so young, I’ll refrain from attempting to rate them.

MICHELLE: I have seen the adjective “creepy” applied to Holo’s nude scenes before, which is why I have no intention of reading the manga adaptation of a light novel series with such a unique and interesting concept. This is another case where I just have to go, “Why?” Do you think it’s partly to compensate for the elements of the story that fail to translate well to a more visual medium?

MJ: Well, this may be an unfair assumption, but it seems to me like it’s just for the purpose of pleasing male fans who aren’t able to fantasize on their own with the prose.

MICHELLE: Could be, though I’m sure plenty of guys find this all creepy, too.

MJ: Well to be clear, I’m sure that lack of imagination doesn’t apply to all men. :)

So, what was your second boobalicious book?

MICHELLE: My second pick was the first volume of Lives, a new two-volume series from TOKYOPOP. Like Highschool of the Dead, it wastes little time getting to the disaster du jour—a rain of asteroids that appears to kill a few people who then, mysteriously, wake up unharmed in a jungle. It quickly becomes clear that all of the creatures there were at one point human and that many are unable to overcome the urges that compel them to attack and eat their fellow mancritters. There’s no explanation for this—unless you count the nude angel who descends to inform a schoolgirl she was perfectly right to eat her brother—and I’m a little concerned that there won’t ever be much of one, given that there’s only one more volume in the series and that this one spends far too many pages on a subplot about intra-dojo rivalry.

The fanservice is not quite as intrusive as in Highschool of the Dead, though there are still visuals like topless, disemboweled corpses that I could have done without. What bothers me more is the characterization of the women. The fact that the girl on the cover is wearing very little, for example, is less troubling than the fact that she looks completely dazed and vacant. Another female character is introduced as the most competent member of a sexy singing group, but she very quickly loses any cool points she might have possessed by blushingly making out with her skeevy manager about two minutes after her bandmates have been viciously slaughtered.

Scattered storytelling and weak women don’t do much to encourage me to keep reading, but since there is only one more volume I will probably be a completist and read it, even though I expect that it will be lame.

MJ: But what about the boobs, Michelle? You’re missing what’s really important here.

MICHELLE: They’re your standard big bazongas. Improbably huge and round and bouncy, but at least they won’t poke your eye out.

MJ: And so we give thanks for small blessings.

MICHELLE: Ha, yeah. Ultimately, I’m glad I didn’t let the fanservice keep me from reading these two books. Perhaps I fared better than you did in terms of my selections actually having plots—I still can’t picture myself reading an ecchi romantic comedy, really—but though they weren’t that good, they weren’t that bad, either.

MJ: Agreed. :)

Join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Toriko, Vol. 1

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Imagine, if you can, an extreme sports edition of Iron Chef, one in which the contestants have to catch and cook the show’s theme ingredient. That’s essentially what Toriko is: an over-the-top food manga in which a hunter and a chef find — and eat — the world’s rarest delicacies.

Toriko, the titular character, is a peculiar mix of id and super-ego. On the one hand, he’s pure instinct: he hunts with his nose, uses brute strength to overwhelm his opponents, and gobbles every meal with animalistic gusto. On the other, he’s a hunter-philosopher who disdains slaughter for sport; Toriko may wrestle six-armed gorillas into submission, but he only kills creatures for food.

His sidekick, Komatsu, is a small, nervous chef who plays Chester to Toriko’s Spike, twitching and talking up a storm whenever they embark on a new mission or face danger. Komatsu is initially assigned to supervise Toriko; Komatsu’s boss, head of the International Gourmet Organization (IGO), wants to make sure that Toriko successfully fulfills an order for garara gator, an eight-legged, bus-sized monster prized for its delicate meat. Though Komatsu spends most of their expedition screaming, cowering, and clinging to Toriko, Komatsu is moved by Toriko’s passion. “When I saw you on the hunt close up,” Komatsu tells Toriko, “I decided it’s worth risking my life to follow you.” He elaborates:

I want to understand where those ingredients come from and what they look like in their natural habitat. By the time the high-level prey are shipped to us, they’re already slaughtered and just pieces of meat.

I never thought I’d see a Shonen Jump character extol the value of slow foods, but that’s a big part of Toriko‘s appeal: the concept screams Ted Nugent, but the underlying philosophy says Michael Pollan. Toriko still barks like a shonen manga, of course, with lengthy fight scenes, colorful opponents, and jokes a-plenty. But there’s a more thoughtful dimension to the story than is warranted by the material; many of the characters’ soliloquies wouldn’t be out of place in Oishinbo or The Omnivore’s Dilemma, as Toriko and Komatsu wax poetic about the flavor and succulence of freshly-caught meat.

Toriko‘s other strength is the artwork; look past that god-awful cover, and what you’ll find is some excellent cartooning. The monsters are fierce and slightly repulsive but plausibly edible, while the humans run the gamut from ridiculously virile — Toriko looks like a youthful Sylvester Stallone — to thoroughly decadent — the IGO’s Bureau Chief wears a leisure suit, aviator shades, and an ill-advised shag. Artist Mitsutoshi Shimabukaro renders each setting with enough detail to make it feel like a distinctive habitat; his mangrove swamp, where the garara gator lives, looks just pre-historic enough to harbor a pterodactyl or two. Not all of the visual gambits work: Toriko lives in a candy house, for example, a choice that seems out of character for a manly meat-eater, while a rainbow fruit tree falls flat in grayscale. Shimabukaro never belabors a sight gag, however, nimbly moving to the next set-piece before the failures even register.

I’d be the first to admit that Toriko won’t be every locavore’s idea of fun. I nearly lost my appetite watching Toriko lay waste to an entire banquet’s worth of food, and found some of the hunting scenes too protracted. If you’ve got a hearty constitution and a deep, abiding love of cooking competitions, however, this macho food-fest might just tickle your taste buds.

TORIKO, VOL. 1 • BY MITSUTOSHI SHIMABUKARO • VIZ MEDIA • 207 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Toriko, Vol. 1

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Imagine, if you can, an extreme sports edition of Iron Chef, one in which the contestants have to catch and cook the show’s theme ingredient. That’s essentially what Toriko is: an over-the-top food manga in which a hunter and a chef find — and eat — the world’s rarest delicacies.

Toriko, the titular character, is a peculiar mix of id and super-ego. On the one hand, he’s pure instinct: he hunts with his nose, uses brute strength to overwhelm his opponents, and gobbles every meal with animalistic gusto. On the other, he’s a hunter-philosopher who disdains slaughter for sport; Toriko may wrestle six-armed gorillas into submission, but he only kills creatures for food.

His sidekick, Komatsu, is a small, nervous chef who plays Chester to Toriko’s Spike, twitching and talking up a storm whenever they embark on a new mission or face danger. Komatsu is initially assigned to supervise Toriko; Komatsu’s boss, head of the International Gourmet Organization (IGO), wants to make sure that Toriko successfully fulfills an order for garara gator, an eight-legged, bus-sized monster prized for its delicate meat. Though Komatsu spends most of their expedition screaming, cowering, and clinging to Toriko, Komatsu is moved by Toriko’s passion. “When I saw you on the hunt close up,” Komatsu tells Toriko, “I decided it’s worth risking my life to follow you.” He elaborates:

I want to understand where those ingredients come from and what they look like in their natural habitat. By the time the high-level prey are shipped to us, they’re already slaughtered and just pieces of meat.

I never thought I’d see a Shonen Jump character extol the value of slow foods, but that’s a big part of Toriko‘s appeal: the concept screams Ted Nugent, but the underlying philosophy says Michael Pollan. Toriko still barks like a shonen manga, of course, with lengthy fight scenes, colorful opponents, and jokes a-plenty. But there’s a more thoughtful dimension to the story than is warranted by the material; many of the characters’ soliloquies wouldn’t be out of place in Oishinbo or The Omnivore’s Dilemma, as Toriko and Komatsu wax poetic about the flavor and succulence of freshly-caught meat.

Toriko‘s other strength is the artwork; look past that god-awful cover, and what you’ll find is some excellent cartooning. The monsters are fierce and slightly repulsive but plausibly edible, while the humans run the gamut from ridiculously virile — Toriko looks like a youthful Sylvester Stallone — to thoroughly decadent — the IGO’s Bureau Chief wears a leisure suit, aviator shades, and an ill-advised shag. Artist Mitsutoshi Shimabukaro renders each setting with enough detail to make it feel like a distinctive habitat; his mangrove swamp, where the garara gator lives, looks just pre-historic enough to harbor a pterodactyl or two. Not all of the visual gambits work: Toriko lives in a candy house, for example, a choice that seems out of character for a manly meat-eater, while a rainbow fruit tree falls flat in grayscale. Shimabukaro never belabors a sight gag, however, nimbly moving to the next set-piece before the failures even register.

I’d be the first to admit that Toriko won’t be every locavore’s idea of fun. I nearly lost my appetite watching Toriko lay waste to an entire banquet’s worth of food, and found some of the hunting scenes too protracted. If you’ve got a hearty constitution and a deep, abiding love of cooking competitions, however, this macho food-fest might just tickle your taste buds.

TORIKO, VOL. 1 • BY MITSUTOSHI SHIMABUKARO • VIZ MEDIA • 207 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

3 Things Thursday: Peepo Choo

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As David reported earlier this week, both he and I were guests on a recent episode of Ed Sizemore’s Manga Out Loud podcast, along with Ed (of course) and Okazu‘s Erica Friedman. Our topic of discussion was Felipe Smith’s Peepo Choo, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Morning Two magazine and published in English by Vertical, Inc.

To prepare for the podcast, I did a full re-read of the series as it stands, and as I reached the end, I felt incredibly sad that there was no more of it. Whatever the reason(s) for the three-volume wrap-up, and however gracefully Smith managed to wrap it up (quite gracefully, indeed), there was so much more I wanted to see, and I was pretty much heartbroken to know I’d never see it. Would Milton really be able to be true to himself once he got back home? What happens when Reiko gets there? Can Rockstar possibly survive Chicago, and who will he ultimately be if he does? These questions tease me mercilessly, along with many more.

Most of what I have to say about the series, I said on the podcast, but I do want to emphasize how much I enjoyed it and how much I thought it had to say, not just about fans, but about people in general, and how much energy we devote to our strong need for connection and identification. There’s a subtle warmth running quietly through the story that becomes evident as it progresses, offering a fascinating contrast to the outrageous, even shocking imagery Smith often uses to make his points. Ultimately the series was one of my favorites of the year, and if I can’t have more of it, I hope at least that we’ll soon see new work from Smith, whatever it might be.

On to the point of this column! There are a whole lot of reasons to read Peepo Choo, but since this is Thursday, I’m going to give you 3. Trust me, they’re more than enough. A bonus: alliteration.

3 Reasons to Read Felipe Smith’s Peepo Choo

1. Rants – One of the series’ most winning moments occurs right near the beginning of the first volume, when comic book store employee Jody calls out both the superhero fans and the anime fans in the store for being equal losers in the eyes of general society. Most fans will find that this rant hits home (maybe more than they’d like to admit). And just wait for what Smith does to US anime and manga companies later in the series.

2. Reiko – Easily the best (and best-written) character in the series, jaded teen gravure model Reiko kicks some serious ass, both literally and figuratively. She’s a strong female character who doesn’t have to give that up in order to find out who she really is. Hers is the most complete journey of the series, and it’s more than worth following.

3. Rockstar – I already admitted it in the podcast, so I might as well come clean here. Morimoto Rockstar is one of my favorite characters in the series, despite the fact that he’s pretty much a morally bankrupt psychopath. Somehow, right alongside his murderous impulses and shocking cruelty, he’s wearing his inner child right on the outside, plain for anyone to see. This juxtaposition of heartlessness and vulnerability is more than enough to fascinate me. Perhaps it’ll do the same for you!

All images and translation © copyright Felipe Smith. First published by Kodansha, Ltd. Published in English by Vertical, Inc.

So, readers, have you read Peepo Choo? What were your top three reasons?

From the stack: Kamisama Kiss vol. 1

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One of the bonuses of the most recent Manga Moveable Feast was being introduced to a series I really liked (as opposed to the pleasure of talking about a series I already appreciated), Julietta Suzuki’s Karakuri Odette (Tokyopop). For more points, the feast convinced me to pick up a copy of Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss (Viz), so now I have two new series that I enjoy. I also have a creator added to my “try automatically” list in Suzuki.

I’ve read good manga about supernatural boys sparking with human girls, and I’ve read some fairly icky manga about the same subject. Kamisama Kiss is decidedly on the good end of the spectrum; it’s endearingly familiar, but it has the same evidence of a quirky, distinct sensibility that Suzuki displayed in Karakuri Odette.

Nanami, a high-school girl, finds herself orphaned and homeless when her irresponsible father flees his gambling debts. Even in distress, she’s good hearted, and she helps a stranger she meets in the park where she’s planning to sleep. In return, he offers her shelter. Unfortunately, it turns out to be a dilapidated shrine, and the free rent is balanced by some heavy responsibilities.

One of those is riding herd over the supernatural staff, which includes a snide (but cute) fox demon named Tomoe. He dislikes Nanami and is reluctant to serve under her. Nanami finds him obnoxious, but she’s a responsible person, and she wants to fulfill her duties to the shrine (and not die at the hands of some rival demon). Disgruntled protagonists are nothing new, but Suzuki makes an important choice in her portrayal of them. She makes them equally matched.

Much as Tomoe would like to bully and deride Nanami for her human incompetence, Suzuki gives the girl an edge over the fox. He still has the advantage of his knowledge and powers, but Nanami gets just enough of the right kind of authority to hold her own. She approaches her responsibilities at the shrine differently, which Tomoe finds both irritating and intriguing. Suzuki finds small, surprising ways to indicate that their relationship may evolve further.

The art is appealing. After the appropriate restraint exhibited in Karakuri Odette, it’s nice to see Suzuki get a little goofy, even over the top at times. Her designs for the supernatural characters are great fun, particularly a visiting demonic dignitary Nanami tries to help. She’s a catfish priestess, of sorts, and Suzuki goes to town making her aristocratic, unnerving, and strangely adorable.

Kamisama Kiss is off to a very promising start. It’s got grumpy, likeable leads, a solid premise, and an endearing look to it.

The Josei Alphabet: A

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Welcome to the Josei Alphabet! For this installment, I’ve decided to focus on a small number of unlicensed titles, then try to list all of the titles that are available in English, along with Japanese magazines that start with that letter. As always, I hope you’ll mention your favorites that I’ve omitted, either licensed or not.

Some sites include yaoi titles in their josei listings. I’ve decided to exclude these for the simple reason that I may someday want to do a yaoi/boys’-love alphabet. So, while they’re often demographically targeted at adult women, I’ve decided to exclude them from this exercise. Now, without further ado…

“A” is for…

Abunazaka Hotel, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, serialized in Shueisha’s You: A mysterious hotelier seems to specialize in guests in the midst of romantic transition or turmoil, challenging their current state of affairs. It’s by Hagio, so it’s instantly desirable, and it only ran for three volumes, so it seems within the realm of reasonable risk.

Ai wa Kassai ni Tsutsumarete, based on a novel by Metsy Hingle, adapted by Shin Kurokawa, published by Oozora Shuppan: It would be remiss of me to ignore the romance-novel end of the josei equation, particularly adaptations of popular Harlequin properties. This one is about a man trying to protect his brother from a fiancé he believes to be a gold-digger. My choices from this subcategory will probably be based on how much I like the covers, which I fully admit is lazy.

Akatsuki no Aria, written and illustrated by Michiyo Akaishi, serialized in Shogakukan’s flowers: This one’s about a beautiful young student pianist who may have supernatural connections. It’s ongoing and up to around the 11 volume point. Another of Akaishi’s josei titles, Amakusa 1637, ran for 12 volumes in Shogakukan’s flowers, and it’s about a high-school kendo champion who’s thrown back in time and uses her skills to protect persecuted Christians in Japan in the 1600s. No, seriously. It was published in French by Akiko.

Applause, written and illustrated by Kyoko Arisohi, serialized variously in Akita Shoten’s Princess, Margaret, and Elegance Eve. This classic yuri tale from the creator of Swan follows a Japanese transfer student from a Belgian boarding school to a career as an actress in New York City. Erica (Okazu) Friedman is on the case. The series ran for a total of seven volumes.

Aisuru Hito, written and illustrated by Yuki Yoshihara, serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic. This smutty, four-volume comedy follows the dubious attempts of a broke college student to stay close to the professor she adores. This kind of story seems to be a specialty for Yoshihara, who also created Butterflies, Flowers (Viz).

Licensed josei:

  • All My Darling Daughters, written and illustrated by Fumi Yoshinaga, published by Viz, one volume, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Melody.
  • Angel, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha. (I’m sure I’ll have occasion to mention this again, but Johanna Draper Carlson wrote a piece on Sakurazawa’s translated manga for The Comics Journal that she’s made available at Manga Worth Reading.)
  • Angel Nest, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha.
  • The Aromatic Bitters, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha.
  • Awabi, written and illustrated by Kan Takahama, is licensed for publication in English by Fanfare/Ponent Mon, but it’s on hold. These short stories originally ran in Yukagu Shorin’s Junkudo.

What starts with “A” in your Josei Alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Anywhere But Here, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s flowers, two volumes.
  • Ashita no Ousama, written and illustrated by Emiko Yachi, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Young You, 10 volumes.
  • Amatsuki, written and illustrated by Shinobu Takayama, currently serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, 12 volumes at the time of this writing. due for publication in French by Kaze.
  • Amazoness no Matsue
  • Aru You de Nai Otoko, written and illustrated by Miho Obana, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, 1 volume.

Demon Sacred Volume 3

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Demon Sacred Volume 3 by Natsumi Itsuki

I absolutely love this series. The third volume wasn’t quite as crazy as the first two, but some good stuff happens. We get to see melancholy teen idol Keito’s reaction to meeting his demon doppleganger K2 and learn that Shinobu, hot young doctor and guardian to mystical teen twin girls has an Evil! Adoptive! European! Family! in his past. I feel somehow like this manga should come packaged with a musical microchip to play suitable dramatic music during these important plot revelations.

Nothing good can happen when a doppleganger takes the place of a teen idol in a photo shoot and manages to produce better pictures. Keito is amazed and disturbed when he sees photos of K2, and a little worried about his livelihood because the photographer is saying that he doesn’t need any other subjects for the rest of his life. Keito tracks down K2 at Mona and Rina’s house, and the teens begin to hash out this case of mistaken idol identity. Mona learns that Keito has been orphaned by return syndrome too. He sent his parents on a celebratory trip when he made it big, and they disappeared after encountering demons. Mona’s hesitant about telling Keito the truth about K2, but they end up forming an alliance after Mona explains about the increased numbers of demons, the possible government involvement, and her desire to cure Rina’s return syndrome. Itsuki continues to do a great job with characterization for two people that look the same but have totally different personalities. Keito is mature and a little bit withholding and glum, which is at odds with his job. K2 is a dangerous 5000 year old little kid with a severe case of puppy love. When Mona hugs him and tells him she’s glad to see him when he shows up just in time to fend off a demon attack, he’s delighted.

Shinobu has plenty of problems to deal with when he is abruptly called into work due to his malicious European adoptive siblings suddenly showing up to find out how he’s doing with the family business. It turns out that tortured scientist Shinobu is tortured because his evil blond brother Helmut abused him so badly as a young child, he lost his memory of the abuse. Now nothing is left but Shinobu’s severe repulsion whenever he has to look at Helmut’s angelic Aryan face. Shinobu has a few other evil European siblings but the one that seems like the most trouble next to Helmut is the bitchy Zophie, who quickly susses out the woman at work who has a crush on her Japanese brother, makes some horribly cutting comments, and figures out that Shinobu’s research interests are not what they seem. She really is amazingly efficient.

I put down this volume amazed at the sheer amount of plot Itzuki was able to cram into 200 pages. I didn’t even mention the way the group dealt with the pesky Griffin that’s been bothering them, and the hints about demon/human chain relations and the nature of K2’s power. Sometimes Demon Sacred has passages here and there that rely a little too much on exposition, but the world that Itsuki is building is so interesting, I don’t mind it at all. Demon Sacred‘s combination of cute guys, plucky in the face of tragedy teen girls, and wacky fantasy complete with conspiracy theories is so compelling. I can’t wait for the next volume.

Canada is just plain cooler

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The Toronto Comics Art Festival has scored a coup:

The Toronto Comic Arts Festival (TCAF) is excited to announce that internationally renowned manga creator Natsume Ono will make her first-ever North American public appearance as a Featured Guest at TCAF 2011. Hailing from Japan, Ono is one of the most exciting and unique women working in the medium today, and she will appear on panels and sign books in support of her English language works at Toronto Reference Library, May 7 and 8, 2011. Ono appears with the support of her English-language publisher VIZ Media.

Since I can’t resist praising Ono whenever her name comes up, I will happily repeat another paragraph from the press release:

“Ono’s fantastic work fits squarely into the ‘art comix’ idiom that’s at the core of the Festival,” enthuses Festival Director Christopher Butcher. “It’s the type of work we try to encourage. She’s a true auteur, working in a variety of styles and on different subjects, and her work is sure to find favour with fans of our other Featured Guests including Chris Ware, Jillian Tamaki, Mawil, and Adrian Tomine.”

You may recognize Mr. Butcher from his awesome blog or his work as manager of The Beguiling.

The cruelties of the calendar generally mean I can’t travel during the Festival, but I’m sure Ono’s appearances will be packed. I would certainly be elbowing people out of the way to get floor space, believe me. This is because I uniformly adore Ono’s work, going so far as to theoretically adore work that has yet to be published in English.

Other people who are excited by this news include Brigid (Robot 6) Alverson, Deb (About.Com) Aoki, and Heidi (The Beat) MacDonald. Erica (Okazu) Friedman and I were yammering on Twitter the other day about her concept of a “fifth genre” of manga that extends beyond, fuses, or ignores traditional demographic categories, and I only half jokingly suggested that you can identify a fifth-genre anthology by its serialization of work by Natsume Ono. Sure, she hasn’t had work run in Comic Beam, to my knowledge, but she’s all over IKKI, Manga Erotics F and Morning Two.