Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

Become You, Vol. 1

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Ichigo Takano’s orange may be one the of best shojo manga published in the last ten years, offering readers a vivid, sympathetic portrait of five friends who get an unexpected chance to save a suicidal classmate’s life. Though orange explored dark emotional terrain, it was never mawkish; instead, orange ended on a hopeful note that showed younger readers that life goes on after tragedies big and small.

Become You, Takano’s latest series, mines a similar thematic vein, this time focusing on two emotionally damaged boys who form an improbable bond through music. And by “improbable,” I mean Taiyou and Hikari are temperamental opposites who initially seem ill-suited for friendship, let alone artistic collaboration. Taiyou is one of those only-in-manga characters whose dogged optimism shades into fanaticism—the kind of character who calls everyone his friend, and wears down skeptics with his relentless overtures. Hikari, by contrast, is a classic Character With a Secret, a former prodigy who abruptly abandoned the piano despite (or perhaps because of) his phenomenal success, keeping his classmates at bay with blunt comments. Naturally—by the immutable laws of Shojo Manga Plot Mechanics—Taiyou tries to recruit Hikari for a band, despite the fact that Taiyou is a tyro guitar player.

At first glance, Become You seems to be following a well-worn path in which an enthusiastic novice persuades a reluctant genius to mentor him, in the process drawing out his teacher and helping his teacher rejoin society. But Takano adds an interesting wrinkle to this familiar plotline: midway through volume one, we learn that Taiyou originally wanted to be an artist, but lost his desire to paint after being bullied by a teacher. In the aftermath of this encounter, what Taiyou really wants is to be good at something—anything, really—and will work diligently towards achieving that goal, even if he shows little or no aptitude for his chosen pursuit. Equally important, Taiyou is just as emotionally vulnerable as his would-be mentor, even though Taiyou papers over his anguish with bright smiles and cheerful comments.

As with orange, a magical plot device brings Become You‘s principal characters together–in this case, a mysterious cloaked figure who presents Taiyou with an electric guitar and words of Yoda-like encouragement. It’s not entirely clear if Taiyou is fantasizing or having a premonition, since his guardian angel looks an awful lot like Hikari. And while the ambiguity of these scenes has little impact on the reading experience, they occupy more space than the time-traveling letters did in orange—a mistake, I think, because Taiyou’s daydreams don’t add any special urgency or poignancy to the story. By contrast, orange‘s letters served a twofold purpose, setting the plot in motion and highlighting all the small ways that innocent comments or decisions could hurt someone as fragile as the suicidal Kakeru.

The other drawback to Become You is that Takano doesn’t seem to know much about music. Taiyou, for example, cheerfully states his intention to attend a “music college,” but lacks the rudimentary skills to play in sync with a metronome or sight-read sheet music. (He also seems blissfully unaware that conservatories require an entrance audition.) The music sequences are similarly revealing: though Takano draws attractive, animated characters, and can put them through their emotional paces, she struggles to make Taiyou and Hikari’s musical performances come to life on the page, either by showing the physical effort necessary to making a sound—embouchure, hand position, posture—or the crowd’s immediate reaction to the performance.

I’m not ready to give up on Become You just yet, however, as Takano has something worthwhile to say about pursuing activities for emotional fulfillment, rather than for personal achievement. She also explores the idea of artistic mentorship with honesty, acknowledging that the teacher-student relationship can have a profound effect on how a young artists finds his voice; any violation of that compact—an unkind comment, a dogged insistence on doing things the “right” way—can leave deep scars and stunt one’s artistic growth. Here’s hoping volume two strikes a better balance between the magical realism and the realities of being a musician. Tentatively recommended.

BECOME YOU, VOL. 1 • STORY & ART BY ICHIGO TANAKA • TRANSLATED BY AMBER TAMOSAITIS • SEVEN SEAS • RATED TEEN • 200 pp.

Pick of the Week: Cats, Lizards, and Househusbands

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MICHELLE: It’s really tough to choose between the debuts of The Way of the Househusband and Cats of the Louvre, but since the latter is complete in one volume and I won’t have the chance to choose it again, I’ll go with that. There really is a lot of good stuff coming out this week, though!

SEAN: Again, I’d love to pick both Househusband AND Cats of the Louvre. But this is the last chance I’ll get to sing the praises of Dorohedoro, whose combination of gore, gratuitous nudity, and fantastic art, plotting and characterization has been a joy to read. Thank you to Viz Media for sticking with it while other Ikki titles died on the vine (remember Kingyo Used Books?).

ANNA: Househusband for me! The premise sounds hilarious and I’m looking forward to it.

KATE: It’s Cats of the Louvre and Way of the Househusband for me, too; it’s been too long since we had a new Taiyo Matsumoto release in English!

ASH: Viz in particular has SO MANY great releases this week! Cats of the Louvre is a definite must, I can’t wait for the debut of Way of the Househusband, and Dorohedoro is a longtime favorite of mine. So, I guess my pick this week is Viz?

MELINDA: Okay, I gotta go with the cats. Cats of the Louvre is by far my top choice this week.

No Guns Life, Vol. 1

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No Guns Life is a textbook example of  “robo noir,” a story that borrows tropes from Double Indemnity and The Maltese Falcon and transplants them to a not-too-distant future where old and new technologies rub shoulders, and damsels in distress might, in fact, be androids. The hero is Juzo Inui, a bodyguard-for-hire who has a strong moral code and an aversion to “humidity and kids.” Like the cyborg clientele he serves, Juzo’s body has been cybernetically enhanced, his head replaced with a giant revolver. Yes—you read that right. Juzo’s head can fire a round of ammunition, a creative decision that skirts the line between funny and horrific; only Juzo’s strong moral code makes the gun-as-head concept palatable.

And speaking of that moral code, volume one focuses on Juzo’s efforts to honor a contract with a fellow cyborg. That cyborg shows up at Juzo’s office with a 12-year-old boy in tow and a request: hide the boy from the Berühen Corporation, a powerful organization that manufactures top-secret weapons. With the police and Berühen’s goons hot on his trail, Juzo stashes Tetsuro with his friend Mary, a back-alley surgeon, and sets out to discover why Tetsuro is such a hot commodity.

While Juzo’s exploits are modestly entertaining, No Guns Life is a mixed bag. On the plus side, the story is briskly paced and well drawn; Tasuku Karasuma creates a strong sense of place in his establishing shots, drawing a sprawling modern city that still has hole-in-the-wall office buildings, dingy basements, and crowded tenements, all populated by characters with memorable mugs. On the minus side, the story traffics in cliches, from the beautiful assassin who carries out her duties in a skimpy costume to the villains who deliver lengthy, exposition-dense monologues before pulling the trigger. The fight scenes, too, leave something to be desired; there are too many flash-boom panels that bury the action under sound effects and speed lines, leaving the reader to guess what’s happening. None of these shortcomings are fatal, but they emphasize the fact that No Guns Life is chiefly memorable because the protagonist looks like a Second Amendment poster boy, not because the story has something new to say about the boundaries between man and machine, or the ethics of human experimentation.

The bottom line: Fans of the anime will probably enjoy No Guns Life, but readers versed in sci-fi and noir conventions may find it too pedestrian to make a lasting impression.

A review copy was provided by VIZ Media, LLC. Volume one will be released on September 17, 2019. Read a free preview here.

NO GUNS LIFE, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY TASUKU KARASUMA • TRANSLATED BY JOE YAMAZAKI • VIZ MEDIA • RATED T+, FOR OLDER TEENS (VIOLENCE, SCANTILY CLAD WOMEN) • 248 pp.

Pick of the Week: Manga Becomes You

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SEAN: It’s always tempting to pick Hayate the Combat Butler, if only to remind people it exists, and Become You looks promising. That said, the retro shoujo fan in me wants to read Queen Bee, the next-gen sequel to Love Attack!, which Tokyopop released back in 1839. I’ll pick that.

MICHELLE: I am very happy to see more Giant Killing at last, as its seinen take on sports manga is something different, but I am really looking forward to the debut of Become You. I loved orange very much and although Dreamin’ Sun (an earlier work) wasn’t as good, I still enjoyed it. This is Ichigo Takano’s latest series, so I am hoping for great things.

KATE: Hot guys playing the guitar–sign me up! My pick is Become You.

ASH: Eyup! I’m here for the musicians of Become You, too! Though if Queen Bee ever sees a print release, that’s another debut I’d be interested in.

ANNA: I’m going to be relentless in my love for shoujo, and pick Queen Bee as well!

MELINDA: Okay, I’ve gotta go with Become You. There’s a kid on the cover with a guitar. I’ve been promised childhood dreams. This is a winning combination.

Pick of the Week: Phantom Tales and Other Stories

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KATE: Last week’s INSANE manga haul has left me scarred: there was so much good stuff to choose from that I felt paralyzed when trying to choose one or two for our weekly round-up. This week, by contrast, I only have eyes for one series: Phantom Tales of the Night, which sounds a lot like Pet Shop of Horrors and has a pretty snazzy-looking cover to boot.

SEAN: I’ll go with a digital debut this week. Everything I’ve heard about Smile Down the Runway suggests it’s a josei title in shonen’s clothing, and apparently it has a terrific look at fashion and the struggle between doing what you love and earning a living. I want to take a look.

MICHELLE: There’s lots of Shojo Beat goodness, but for me this week is all about the sports boys. When Yowamushi Pedal is pitted against Haikyu!!, much as I love the former, I have to go with the volleyball kids. They’re just so dang endearing!

ASH: I certainly enjoy both Haikyu!! and Yowamushi Pedal, but I’m with Kate this week for my pick. I generally like horror manga, but I find shoujo horror particularly difficult to resist, so <Phantom Tales of the Night it is!

ANNA: There’s so much to choose from! I’m going to go with Daytime Shooting Star just because we don’t get much teacher-student romance shoujo here.

Go With the Clouds: North by Northwest, Vols. 1-2

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I’ve never used the word “shambolic” in a review before, but that was the first adjective that came to mind as I read Go With the Clouds: North by Northwest, a handsomely illustrated series that can’t decide if it’s a murder mystery, a coming-of-age story, an Icelandic travel brochure, or a Knight Rider episode. Go With the Clouds’ abrupt tonal shifts and plot twists left me scratching my head, but I was never bored or disappointed by Aki Irie’s narrative choices; if anything, the messy weirdness of the first volume was ingratiating, a reminder that sometimes the most interesting storytellers aren’t particularly disciplined.

The first volume is a bumpy ride, lurching from one idea to the next without warning. In the first five chapters alone, we learn that seventeen-year-old protagonist Kei Miyama is a detective-for-hire; has a younger sibling named Michitaka who’s the chief suspect in a double homicide; and can hear his car’s thoughts. (As befits a story set in Iceland, Kei’s car is very moody.) Though volume one ends with a dramatic confrontation over Michitaka, volume two barely acknowledges the murder investigation, focusing instead on a visit from Kei’s childhood friend Kiyoshi. The two spend an agreeable week touring the Icelandic countryside by car, visiting geysers, gawking at cliffs and waterfalls, and taking pictures. Michitaka makes the briefest of cameos, but is otherwise absent from volume two—a strange choice, given how urgent his storyline seemed in volume one.

Normally, this kind of narrative sloppiness if a turn-off for me, but Irie rewards the patient reader with complex characters, interesting bits of Icelandic lore, and—best of all—breathtaking artwork that captures the starkly beautiful landscape of the Golden Circle. Her linework is crisp and her use of tone sparing; in her most striking panels, we have a sense of how empty the Icelandic countryside really is thanks to her judicious use of white space. At the same time, however, she excels at detail work, giving the reader an intimate look at houses, cafes, churches, and—yes—car interiors. That same attention to detail extends to her character designs, which are an elegant blend of naturalism and stylization; you’d be forgiven for thinking that Kei looks more like a movie star than a moody teenager.

Her characterizations are likewise thoughtful. Kei, for example, isn’t defined solely by his gift; instead, it’s just a small facet of his personality that helps shed light on how attuned he is to his surroundings. The same is true for Kei’s grandfather, who’s initially portrayed as a stubborn curmudgeon but turns out to be more perceptive than his blustery persona might suggest, especially after Michitaka enters the picture. While several seemingly important characters are still in an embryonic stage of development—most notably Kei’s imperious neighbor Lilja—Irie’s ability to depict people in all their idiosyncrasies makes me confident that the supporting cast will be more fleshed out in future volumes.

I’d be the first to admit that the series’ pacing and narrative detours won’t be everyone’s cup of tea; I was initially put off by Kei’s one-sided conversations with his trusty jalopy, and frustrated by the sudden appearance—and equally sudden disappearance—of a Japanese investigator who is convinced of Michitaka’s guilt. By the end of volume one, however, I didn’t care; I felt that Go With the Clouds had transported me somewhere I hadn’t been before—in real life or my imagination—and was eager for another installment of Kei’s saga. Recommended.

GO WITH THE CLOUDS, NORTH BY NORTHWEST, VOLS. 1-2 • ART AND STORY BY AKI IRIE • VERTICAL COMICS • NO RATING

The Right Way to Make Jump

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Most books about the manga industry fall into one of two categories: the how-to book, which offers advice on how to draw proportionate characters, plan a storyboard, and buy the right pens; and the how-I-became-an-artist story, which charts the emotional ups and downs of breaking into the manga biz. The Right Way to Make Jump takes a different approach, pulling back the curtain on the production process.

Our guide to the manga-making process is Takeshi Sakurai, a spazzy, anxiety-ridden thirty-year-old who traded his dreams of becoming a professional manga-ka for a more predictable, less demanding life as an onigiri chef. Out of the blue, Sakurai receives a call from his former editor Momiyaxx-san about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to “create a non-fiction manga” that explains “how Jump is made.” After much hand-wringing and angst—and a friendly nudge from his cheerful, patient wife—Sakurai accepts the assignment, embarking on a series of factory tours and interviews to learn the nuts-and-bolts of publishing an issue of Weekly Jump. His odyssey takes him to a paper mill at the foot of Mt. Fuji, the editors’ bullpen at Shueisha headquarters, and VIZ’s corporate office in San Francisco, where Sakurai gets a first-hand look at how Jump is localized for different markets.

The book is cheekily divided into ten “arcs,” each of which focuses on a specific production step. The most interesting sections focus on the manufacturing process, explaining why Jump uses colored paper and how the magazines are cut, assembled, and bound. For readers who love the Discovery Channel—and I count myself among them—these early chapters are a blast, as they are studded with weird, wonderful facts about paper and machinery. (Among the most interesting: Jump paper dust plays an important role in Tokyo’s sewage treatment program.) The later chapters, by contrast, are less effective, as the editorial staff’s answers to potentially interesting questions are couched in polite, vague language that offers little insight into what they do; you’d be forgiven for rolling your eyes when a Jump staffer offers an essentialist justification for not hiring female editors, or chalks up the order of each issue to ‘intuition.’

Where The Right Way really shines is in Sakurai’s use of clever visual analogies to help the reader grasp the most  intricate parts of the manufacturing process. In “Platemaking,” for example, Sakurai creates a muscle-bound figure who represents the resin plate, a key element in the printing process:

The figure’s transformation neatly embodies the basic principles of creating a positive from a negative by comparing the process to suntanning—something that readers of all ages can relate to from personal experience.

As informative as such passages are, The Right Way can be a frustrating reading experience. Some chapters are briskly executed, achieving a good balance between education and entertainment, while others focus too much on slapstick humor, unfunny exchanges between Sakurai and Momiyaxx-san, and shameless plugs for Weekly Jump. Sakurai’s sardonic tone—expertly captured by translator Emily Taylor—helps mitigate some of these issues, but can’t always goose the tempo when Sakurai frets and fumes about meeting his deadlines; joking about your own shortcomings can be an effective strategy for ingratiating yourself to the reader, but not when you’re using those jokes to pad your weekly page count.

The overall structure of the book, too, leaves something to be desired. Though the first chapters focus on how the magazine is printed, the later chapters tackle a seemingly random selection of topics—Jump Festa, recycled paper stock, cover design, reader contests—suggesting that no one anticipated how long The Right Way would run in Weekly Jump. A topic-of-the-week approach is fine when readers wait for each new installment, but it makes for a chaotic, sometimes repetitive reading experience when collected in a single volume. The most logical strategy for organizing the tankubon edition would have been to start with the editorial process and end with the printing; not only does sequential presentation have obvious explanatory value, it also lends the material a compelling narrative arc, something that The Right Way to Make Jump sorely lacks.

Despite these shortcomings, I’d still recommend The Right Way to Make Jump, as it offers an all-too-rare glimpse of manga publishing’s less glamorous aspects, highlighting the contributions of professionals whose efficiency, creativity, and diligence have made Weekly Jump into a global phenomenon.

THE RIGHT WAY TO MAKE JUMP • ART AND STORY BY TAKESHI SAKURAI • TRANSLATED BY EMILY TAYLOR • VIZ MEDIA • 208 pp. • RATED T, FOR TEENS

Pick of the Week: The Poe Clan

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MICHELLE: I mean, it has to be The Poe Clan, right? If you’re in doubt, check out Kate’s terrific review!

ANNA: I am going to pick The Poe Clan as well, I am excited to read it.

KATE: Thanks for the plug, Michelle! I can’t stress enough how lucky we are to have this ground-breaking series in English, and with a great translation and gorgeous packaging to boot. Go, buy, and be prepared to swoon at all the roses and galaxy eyes!

Since we’re unanimous in our praise of The Poe Clan, I also wanted to highlight a series that would otherwise be my pick of the week: Kenji Tsurata’s Emanon, a beautiful fantasy/sci-fi story about a young woman who lives with the collective memories of all of her ancestors, stretching back to the beginning of life on Earth. The idea sounds kinda hokey (or pretentious), but Tsurata has done a fine job of adapting the source material–it’s based on a story by Shinji Kajio–into a thoughtful rumination on what it means to be alive. If you liked Wandering Island, Emanon is a no-brainer.

SEAN: The Poe Clan, absolutely.

ASH: I’m certainly looking forward to reading more of Emanon this week, and Golden Kamuy, too. But, yeah, there can really be no other pick than The Poe Clan.

MELINDA: It’s obviously The Poe Clan!

The Poe Clan, Vol. 1

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Since its debut in Bessatsu Shōjo Comic (now Betsucomi), Moto Hagio’s The Poe Clan has proven almost as enduring as its vampire protagonists, living on in the form of radio plays, CD dramas, a television series, a Takarazuka production, and a sequel that appeared in Flowers forty years after the series finished its initial run. The Poe Clan’s success is even more remarkable considering that Hagio was in the formative stages of her career, having made her professional debut just three years earlier with the short story “Lulu to Mimi.” Yet it’s easy to see why this work captivated female readers in 1972, as Hagio’s fluid layouts, beautiful characters, and feverish pace brought something new to shojo manga: a story that luxuriated in the characters’ interior lives, using a rich mixture of symbolism and facial close-ups to convey their ineffable sorrow.

Edgar and Marybelle Portsnell—The Poe Clan‘s principal characters—have a fairy-tale origin story: to protect them from their father’s spiteful wife, their nursemaid abandons them in the forest. The pair are rescued by Hannah Poe, a seemingly benevolent old woman who plans to induct them into her clan when they come of age. The local villagers’ discovery that the Poes are, in fact, vampirnellas (Hagio’s term for vampires) irrevocably alters Hannah’s plans, however, setting in motion a chain of events that lead to Edgar and Marybelle’s premature transformation into vampirnellas.

Though my plot summary implies a chronological narrative, The Poe Clan is more Moebius strip than straight line, beginning midway through Edgar and Marybelle’s saga, then shuttling back and forth in time to reveal their father’s true identity and introduce a third important character: Alan Twilight, the scion of a wealthy industrialist whose confidence and beauty beguile the Portsnell siblings. In less capable hands, Hagio’s narrative structure might feel self-consciously literary, but the story’s fervid tone and dreamy imagery are better served by a non-linear approach that allows the reader to immerse themselves in Edgar’s memories, experiencing them as he does: a torrent of feelings. Furthermore, Hagio’s time-shifting serves a vital dramatic purpose, helping the reader appreciate just how meaningless time is for The Poe Clan’s immortal characters; they cannot age or bear children, nor can they remain in any school or village for more than a few months since their unchanging appearance might arouse suspicion.

Hagio’s artwork further reinforces the dreamlike atmosphere through inventive use of panel shapes and placement, with characters bursting out of frames and tumbling across the page, freeing them from the sequential logic of the grid. In this scene, for example, Hagio uses these techniques to depict an act of impulsive violence—Alan pushes his uncle down a flight of stairs—as well as the reaction of the servants and relatives who bear witness to it:

While the influence of manga pioneers like Osamu Tezuka and Shotaro Ishinomori is evident in the dynamism of this layout, what Hagio achieves on this page is something arguably more radical: she uses this approach not simply to suggest the speed or force of bodies in motion, or the simultaneous reactions of the bystanders, but to convey the intensity of her characters’ feelings, a point reinforced by the facial closeups and word balloons that frame the uncle’s crumpled body.

Her method for representing memories is likewise artful. Through layering seemingly arbitrary images, she creates a powerful analogue for how we remember events—not as a complete, chronological sequence but a vivid collage of individual moments and details. In this passage, Hagio reveals why one of Edgar’s schoolmates has confessed to a theft he didn’t commit:

The final frame of this passage reveals the source of Killian’s pain: he witnessed another boy’s suicide. But Killian isn’t remembering how the event unfolded; he’s remembering the things that caught his eye—birds and branches, feet dangling from a window—and his own feelings of helplessness as he realized what his classmate was about to do.

As ravishing as the artwork is, what stayed with me after reading The Poe Clan is how effectively it taps into a particular adolescent mindset—that moment when you stand on the cusp of puberty, poised between childhood and adulthood. Hagio’s characters feel and say things with the utmost intensity, forging brief but passionate connections as they try to make sense of the adult world. That certainly maps onto my own experience of middle school as a time of rapidly shifting social allegiances, all-consuming crushes, and anxiety about how quickly—or slowly—I was transforming into an adult. By making her protagonists vampires, Hagio validates the realness of those tweenage emotions at a degree of remove that allows readers to engage with the story as they see fit: as a tragic romance, a Gothic horror story, or an extended metaphor for the existential awfulness of being thirteen.

One final note: Fantagraphics deserves special praise for their elegant presentation of this shojo classic. Rachel Thorn’s graceful translation is a perfect match for the imagery, conveying the characters’ fervor in all its adolescent intensity, while the large trim size and substantial paper stock are an ideal canvas for Hagio’s detailed, vivid artwork. Recommended. 

This post was updated on August 23rd with more accurate information about the current status of The Poe Family‘s serialization in Flowers. Special thanks to Eric Henwood-Greer for the correction!

THE POE CLAN, VOL. 1 • ART AND STORY BY MOTO HAGIO • TRANSLATED BY RACHEL THORN • FANTAGRAPHICS • 512 pp. • NO RATING

Pick of the Week: Princesses, Classmates and Magi

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KATE: There’s a surprising amount of good stuff in this week’s new manga haul! I’m intrigued by Star Blazers 2199 and The Night Is Short, Walk On Girl, but I’m also excited to see Yen Press licensing more queer-friendly manga; Yuri Life looks like a winner. If I had to recommend just one title, though, my choice would be Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle, a gag manga that finds a surprising number of ways to make chronic insomnia look funny.

SEAN: Given it’s the last time I can pick it, I feel obliged to make my pick of the week Magi. Shonen Sunday series always have a much harder time here in North America, so I’m pleased that this long-runner seemed to do well and wasn’t consigned to 2-volumes-per-year hell. I’ll miss it.

MICHELLE: I’m intrigued by Star Blazers 2199 and am grateful to have more Ace of the Diamond and Classmates, but I must join Sean in one final pick for Magi. This story has come a long way and become more complicated than I ever would’ve guessed from that first volume and I look forward to seeing how it all ties up in the end.

ASH: I am very much intrigued by The Night Is Short, Walk On Girl, but my pick this week goes to the second volume of Classmates. I really loved the first volume and am always happy for the chance to read more of Asumiko Nakamura’s work in English.

ANNA: I enjoyed the first volume of Komi Can’t Communicate, and I always like to read two volumes of a series before deciding to be in for the duration or not. I’m looking forward to the second volume of this shonen comedy.

Ryuko, Vol. 1

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 With its potent mix of violence, yakuza intrigue, double-crosses, and barely-clothed assassins, Eldo Yoshimizu’s Ryuko has the pulpy soul of a Kazuo Koike manga and the brash attitude of a James Bond flick. Ryuko never quite achieves the simmering intensity and cohesion of Lady Snowblood or Crying Freeman, but it does hold its own against Koike’s best work thanks, in no small part, to its audacious action sequences and ultra-stylish heroine.

Plot-wise, Ryuko is both simple and baroque; an accurate, one-sentence summary of the main story might read “Yakuza princess seeks revenge for her mother’s kidnapping.” Running in tandem with the kidnapping storyline are four —maybe five — other subplots, however, all connected to the Soviet-Afghanistan war. There’s gun-running and opium harvesting, Soviet malfeasance and CIA chicanery, and some other elements that, frankly, don’t make a lot of sense, though they provide sufficient justification for the imaginatively staged combat. Anyone hoping for a few helpful lines of expository dialogue will be frustrated, as the characters are so laconic they seldom utter more than a few words before throwing a punch or brandishing a gun.

The real star of Ryuko is Eldo Yoshimizu’s artwork, which deftly synthesizes Japanese and European influences without slavishly copying them. His female characters, in particular, have the undulating hips, flowing locks, and determined scowls of Leiji Matsumoto’s most lethal heroines, while the male characters’ appearances owe a debt to the rugged manly-men that stalked the pages of Hugo Pratt, Takao Sato, and Goseki Kojima’s adventure stories. Not surprisingly, Yoshimizu lavishes his greatest attention on Ryuko, dressing — and undressing — her like a paper doll with a penchant for leather suits and plunging necklines; she and her female foot soldiers spend almost as much time fighting enemies in the buff as Oyuki does in Lady Snowblood. 

But oh, those fight scenes! They’re worth the price of admission, as they showcase the full range of Yoshimizu’s talents as a draftsman, veering sharply between naturalism, suggestion, and pure abstraction. In this sequence, for example, we see the young Ryuko ambushing a group of Soviet soldiers:

In the first panel, the tank is drawn with utmost specificity, allowing us to appreciate its sheer mass and its weaponry. The subsequent panels, however, are more gestural than the first, as we glimpse Ryuko silhouetted against the explosion, her age and gender completely obscured by the brilliant flash of light behind her. In the final panel of the sequence, Yoshimizu uses two horses to frame the action, rendering them as bold patches of black, with just a suggestion of a nostril and an eye, their demonic appearance echoing Ryuko’s own fierce resolve.

Other sequences, such as this one, are even more abstract, dispensing with backgrounds and panel borders in favor of fluid, overlapping images; in a particularly effective gambit, Yoshimizu draws Ryuko as a dark, solid figure while depicting her opponent as an object in motion, a collection of hastily sketched speed lines:

Even Ryuko’s hair plays an important role in helping us understand what’s happening in this confrontation. In the first sequence, her hair swings around her face and shoulders in a naturalistic fashion, but in the final panel, her hair looks like a furious nest of snakes, each poised to strike her victim. That shift is subtle but important, a nifty metaphor for just how quick and lethal Ryuko can be.

For all the verve with which these scenes are drawn, Ryuko‘s characters never quite register as flesh-and-blood people. Yoshimizu has provided them with backstories, but the characters’ behavior is so steeped in action-movie cliche that their motivations for shooting and punching are almost immaterial. The story’s breakneck pacing doesn’t allow anyone much time for introspection, either; the few flashbacks to Ryuko’s childhood separation from her mother are the only genuinely emotional moments in the story.

Still, no one reads trashy thrillers for a deep exploration of the human psyche; they’re looking for an over-the-top story that serves up generous helpings of car chases, gun battles, and fist-fights, the more outlandish, the better. On that front, Ryuko performs admirably, infusing a shopworn revenge plot with the sensual swagger of old-school classics like Lady Snowblood and Lupin III. Recommended.

RYUKO, VOL. 1 • ART AND STORY BY ELDO YOSHIMIZU • TRANSLATION BY MOTOKO TAMAMURO AND JONATHAN CLEMENTS • TITAN COMICS • NO RATING (PARTIAL NUDITY, VIOLENCE) • 256 pp.

Pick of the Week: Crime and Superheroes

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SEAN: My Hero Academia’s 19th and 20th volumes have what may be my favorite “light” arc of the series. As such, the 20th volume, like the 19th, is my pick. If only for those two faces. You know the ones I mean.

MICHELLE: Courtesy of the awesome Shonen Jump vault, I’m all caught up on My Hero Academia now, so volume 20 is actually a reread for me, but it’s a testament to the greatness of this series that I’m still looking forward to it. The light arc concludes, and is definitely great, but I also really enjoyed finally getting to meet a mysterious hero who’s been hinted at and finally makes his debut in this volume.

KATE: After being publicly shamed for my tendency to plug the same manga over and over — notice I resisted the temptation to type “again” — I had to bring my Recommendation A-Game this week. My pick is Ryuko, Titan Comic’s first foray into serialized manga. It looks like the sleazy, brutal, fast-paced stuff that Kazuo Koike used to pump out by the truckload, and I can’t wait to read it. The cover alone is swoon-worthy!

ANNA: There’s so much great shoujo coming out this week, it is hard for me to single out just one title. But I have to admit when looking over everything coming out that I’m always most enthusiastic about Yona of the Dawn, so volume 19 of that series is my pick!

ASH: So many series that I’m following have new volumes this week, making it very difficult to choose where to start. So, thanks for the reminder about Ryuko, Kate! I’ve been very curious about that series, enough to make it my pick, too.

Pick of the Week: We Love Honda-san

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ASH: Along with the usual variety of releases, this week also seems to have a fair number of series making their English-language debut. This includes the first volume of one of my most anticipated manga of the year, Skull-Faced Bookseller Honda-san. The series has already gained some recognition from its anime adaptation, but I’m thrilled to have a chance to read the original.

SEAN: Honda-san is definitely my manga of the week, but my pick this week is the first volume of new light novel Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki. In a marketplace where it seems the only things that can be licensed are those with some sort of supernatural/fantasy content, I want to champion the rare series that has none of those things. (It does talk about gaming a lot, though.)

ANNA: Skull-Faced Bookseller Honda-san is my pick, no question. It looks delightfully quirky.

MICHELLE: Yep, it’s bony booksellers for me, as well!

KATE: C’mon, guys, no love for The Alchemist Who Survived Now Dreams of a Quiet City Life or Precarious Woman Executive Miss Black General? You’re breaking my heart! I jest, I jest… I’m on team Skull-Faced Book Seller Honda-san 100% this week.

MELINDA: Okay, the truth is, I’m headed into production week of my teen opera today, so if Handel didn’t write it, it’s not really in my universe this week. But if I was in the same universe as my colleagues and any of this manga right now, I’d be Skull-Faced Book Seller Honda-san all the way. Do with that what you will.

Pick of the Week: Present and Future Manga

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SEAN: Most of the debuts I was looking forward to picking this week got schedule shifted away, and I’m left with a lot of “Hrm”. So I’ll go with Teasing Master Takagi-san 5, always a favorite and with two fantastic chapters bookending the volume.

MICHELLE: I’ll go with the third and final volume of Love in Focus . This is the second short series from Yoko Nogiri that I’ve liked more than anticipated. I hope she writes something longer someday!

KATE: Our Dreams at Dusk is just about perfect with beautiful art, great characters, and a compelling story that allows readers across the spectrum to appreciate just how difficult it can be to come to terms with your own sexuality.

ANNA: Honestly the main thing I’ve been thinking of this week is the fact that we had a Rose of Versailles cover reveal! So I’ll pick Rose of Versailles even though it isn’t coming out for a long time, and also reserve the right to pick it again.

ASH: I am in complete agreement with Kate. Our Dreams at Dusk is such an incredible series, I’m making it my pick even when this week’s other releases include another of my favorites, To Your Eternity.

Pick of the Week: Beasts and Demons

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MICHELLE: I am very happy that Haikasoru has kept up with printing the Legends of Galactic Heroes novels. One day, I really will read them! For my official pick, though, I’ll go with Beastars. I’m not entirely sold on the premise, but since the next shounen “big thing” I was initially meh about turned out to be My Hero Academia, I will be more receptive this time!

KATE: I’m also curious about Beastars, but I never miss an opportunity to plug Inio Asano’s Dead Dead Demon’s Dededede Destruction, a book that walks the tightrope between mordant and morbid with ease. You’ll laugh, you’ll grimace, and you’ll get a lump in your throat at least once or twice in each volume. Oh, and the art’s pretty nifty, too.

ASH: Dead Dead Demon’s Dededede Destruction is always a good choice, and Legend of the Galactic Heroes has been a great read so far, but for my pick I’ll allow my curiosity to get the best of me and go with Beastars. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the series.

ANNA: Like many, I’m curious about Beastars. I’m going to go with Dead Dead Demon’s Dededede Destruction though, it really is something special.

SEAN: My pick is the new My Next Life As a Villainess, as it always makes me laugh.