Reading Club, Vol. 1
By Cho Ju-Hee & Suh Yun-Young
Published by Udon Entertainment
Rated: Older Teen (16+)

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Eun-Sae is thrilled when dreamy bookworm Kyung-Do asks her to volunteer with him to clean up their school library. Unfortunately, a couple of surprises await her as she takes on this new task. Though Kyung-Do is clearly interested in reading everything in the library’s sprawling collection, he shows very little enthusiasm for actually organizing the place. Secondly, the collection includes a book with some sinister supernatural qualities that may have played a part in several tragic deaths, including that of Kyung-Do’s father. Can Eun-Sae save Kyung-Do from meeting the same fate?

Reading Club is billed as “Korea’s first horror comic for girls,” and while I can’t speak to the accuracy of that statement, I can vouch for it being very effectively geared to its target audience. The first volume favors story over romance, but with an intimate feel reminiscent of the plotty romance novels that drew me in most as a teen, like Mary Stewart’s Touch Not the Cat or The Gabriel Hounds. Her stories were always favorites of mine, marrying heart-stopping fear and heart-pounding romance, all experienced through the tight POV of her sophisticated heroines. Though Reading Club does not stick with Eun-Sae’s POV for the entirety of its first volume (nor is Eun-Sae the equivalent of Stewart’s snappy young ladies of leisure) the effect is the same. Plot is the focus of the volume throughout, but it is Eun-Sae’s feelings that drive the story, whether she’s fighting off ancient evil or boldly taking the initiative with her new crush.

One particularly refreshing aspect of the story, especially for young female readers, is the reversal of traditional heroine and hero roles. While Kyung-Do is portrayed as a passive beauty who sparkles only in the presence of good books, Eun-Sae is all action, vowing to protect her delicate boyfriend from coming to a tragic end. This reversal is never played as parody and Eun-Sae in particular is wonderfully nuanced, despite limited “screen time” in this volume. She’s sometimes brave, often lazy, occasionally dishonest, and definitely driven by hormones, just like any teen. Kyong-Do is more of a mystery, both to Eun-Sae and to us, which is exactly as it should be so early on in this kind of story.

Reading Club’s greatest weakness at this point is its length, or rather its lack thereof. Though the series’ first volume effectively introduces both its cast and major plot points, so little is understood about the book’s sinister powers (let alone the mysterious “Reading Club”) even by the end of the volume, there is a sense of shallowness to the story’s supernatural elements that could be avoided by revealing just a bit more. Presumably deeper insight is yet to come, but it would be nice to have a stronger taste early on to better whet the appetite for future volumes. Though the volume delivers a sufficiently spooky premise along with some genuinely frightening imagery, the connection between the two is not yet solid enough to hold up under scrutiny. Why does one of the book’s victims commit suicide, while another is simply found dead with a creepy severed tongue? The story’s mythology has not yet been explored deeply enough for us to know, keeping real terror safely at arm’s length.

The series’ artwork is sparse yet vivid, helping to set the story’s dark, tense tone right from the start. Its character designs are unremarkable yet nicely distinctive from one another, helping to shape characters immediately within the story’s plotty framework. Unfortunately, the volume’s text is less easy on the eyes, printed in a small, cramped font that is sure to force some readers into squinting from page to page.

As the first of Udon’s manhwa catalogue I’ve had the pleasure to read, this volume fortunately leaves me wanting more. For smart teen romance paired with genuine chills, Reading Club is a promising choice.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

One Fine Day, Vol. 1
By Sirial
Published by Yen Press

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“Our fine day starts here. Would you like to join us?”

One cold, dreary afternoon, a rain-soaked cat is invited home by a mischievous young mouse and a big-brotherly dog. Their green-roofed house is difficult to find, they say, “At the end of the path of blue and red bricks,” where a young man named No-Ah soon discovers that his pair of house pets has become a trio. This sweet, simple scenario serves as a short prologue to the first chapter of One Fine Day, perfectly establishing the series’ whimsical tone and showcasing its greatest strengths from the get-go. As the volume continues, No-Ah, along with cat (Guru), dog (Nanai), and mouse (Rang) tackle life’s daily challenges, such as picnics, baking cookies, and the common cold.

Make no mistake, One Fine Day is a mess. From uneven world-building to a complete absence of plot, it lacks nearly everything required for coherent storytelling, even on the most basic level. Fortunately, it is an utterly delectable mess, poised to enchant would-be critics with the power of children, puppies, and frolicking teapots.

Much of the cast is made up of animals who resemble humans (like Guru, Nanai, and Rang) or people who resemble animals, such as No-Ah’s bird-like friends, Mr. and Mrs. Raspberry. A few are furniture. In fact, the only decidedly human characters of any consequence are No-Ah and a much-feared magician, Aileru (whose relationship with No-Ah is complicated to say the least). Like many aspects of One Fine Day, its anthropomorphic landscape is only marginally explained, which diminishes its effectiveness, if not its charm.

The series’ supernatural elements are no less confusing. No-Ah is either a “novice magician or a “monster magician” (depending on when you ask) who, by the author’s own admission, “gets younger every chapter.” His magical abilities (largely undefined) are in some way related to the infamous Aileru, No-Ah’s childhood friend/bully/other, who is able to do things like turn people into animals and even summon fairies under the right circumstances. Beyond that, the universe’s supernatural ground rules are anyone’s guess.

Not that any of this matters in the slightest. The story’s real magic is in its most ordinary events, as seen through the eyes of its four-legged protagonists. Everything their father-figure does is magical from their perspective, and this “magic” is is a product of unabashed love. While the anthropomorphic appearances of Guru, Nanai, and Rang are undeniably adorable, the real purpose of their portrayal as human children seems to be that No-Ah views them as such. One of the series’ sweetest moments, for instance, is an early chapter in which No-ah teaches his “children” how to bake cookies. While No-Ah’s back is turned, both Rang and Guru mark the dough with their footprints (in blatant disregard of accepted kitchen hygiene). Though Nanai is desperate to join in, canine duty prevails, leaving him with nothing to do but whimper pathetically at the untouched dough before him. Recognizing Nanai’s predicament, No-Ah’s response is to place Nanai’s paws in the dough himself. It’s a small thing, as is nearly everything that happens in this story, but it is exactly this kind of playful affection that makes up the heart of One Fine Day.

Perhaps the series’ most consistently delightful aspect, however, is its artwork. Alternating between crude sketches and elaborate fancies, Sirial’s drawings overflow with warmth and whimsy, matching the story’s tone perfectly. From No-Ah’s comically unmanageable hair to Rang’s footie pajamas, everything that could be labeled as “cute” is also an essential tool for expression, contradicting the series’ haphazard feel.

At its best, One Fine Day is a trippy little stroll through the lives of its mostly-anthropomorphic family and friends. At worst, it is a jumble of incoherent anecdotes that somehow manages to be both visually appealing and intensely heartwarming even in its clumsiest moments. Either way, it’s a bit irresistible.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Shugo Chara!, Vol. 7
By Peach-Pit
Published by Del Ray Manga

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As this volume opens, Nadeshiko’s twin, Nagihiko, enrolls in Seiyo Elementary with a big secret he feels unable to share with Amu. Ikuto escapes from Easter with his violin, but a mysterious illness brings him to Amu’s doorstep in a wholly unexpected fashion. With Ikuto hiding out in Amu’s bedroom, Tadase chooses an unfortunate time to confess his feelings (one that comes back to haunt him shortly after) and Amu learns a hard lesson about the consequences of underestimating the people who trust her most.

This is a fairly heavy volume in this deceptively light-hearted series, with both Amu and Nagihiko caught in lies they can’t find their way out of, and Amu’s relationships with Tadase and Ikuto becoming muddier all the time. After all, it’s really two love confessions she receives in this volume, even if Ikuto’s must be necessarily masked by humor while he waits for her to “Hurry up and grow up.” Whether it’s creepy for a seventeen-year-old to be in love with a twelve-year-old is a dicy question, certainly. Considering the book’s intended readership I’m inclined to chalk it up to pre-teen fantasy, which mainly leaves me wishing I’d had something like this to read when I was twelve.

The best moment in this volume, however, is between Amu and her mother. After being caught sneaking out of the bathroom with a freshly-showered Ikuto, Amu’s mom sits her down for a talk about trust, but not the one readers might expect. Instead, she expresses her disappointment in Amu for not trusting her parents enough to tell them about what was going on with Ikuto so that they could help work out a suitable solution (presumably one less likely to compromise their daughter’s virtue). This scene is both touching and timely, since it gives Amu the information she needs to understand what happens next with Tadase.

Another striking scene in this volume takes place between Amu and Ikuto’s sister, Utau, who chastises Amu for being too much of a child to understand the importance of power in the world. “Kids who have no power like us or weak people like my mother will be crushed by a larger power and no one will notice … That’s why I wanted power. Lots of power so we won’t get crushed.”

This is not an unusual speech to hear from a manga character with a troubled childhood. What’s special about it in this series, however, is that despite its shiny sugar coating, Shugo Chara! does not come down clearly on either side of the argument. The series portrays Amu’s environment amongst adults who truly can be trusted right alongside Utau’s dog-eat-dog world, fully embracing the contradiction and unfairness of life in a way that feels unexpected in this kind of story. Similarly, though the story consistently demonstrates the power of people working together, it doesn’t attempt to pretend that this can heal all wounds. Utau comes to Amu, not because she thinks Amu is filled with sparkly goodness that makes everything all right, but because Amu has power and she wants her to use it.

My favorite character here, however, is Nagihiko. Though I don’t wish to spoil, I must mention how much I appreciate the way Peach-Pit has taken shojo gender-bending clichés and made them into something real rather than just playing them for laughs. “Amu-chan wants to see Nadeshiko, not me,” Nagihiko says, dreading the appearance of the person he most wants to see. His story is fantastic and well-written from the beginning, and I wish there were more like it.

With Easter’s latest plot quickly coming to a head, the next few volumes will certainly be action-packed. Fortunately, that action will be built on the strong foundation laid by this tense, emotionally rich volume. Enjoy!

Check out my review of Shugo Chara! Vol. 8 in tomorrow’s Manga Minis at PopCultureShock!

Crown of Love, Vol. 1
By Yun Kouga
Published by Viz Media

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“I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me.”

Hisayoshi Tajima is an aloof high school student—a stereotypical “prince” type, fawned over and admired by all the girls in his class. Though none of his classmates has ever caught his interest, a chance encounter on the train throws him into sudden infatuation with a young female idol, Rima Fujio. Over the next month, his fixation with Rima becomes so strong that everything else (including schoolwork) begins to slip as he spends most of his time attending Rima’s video tapings and keeping up with news from her fan club. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Hisayoshi, he catches the eye of Rima’s former manager, Ikeshiba, who lures him into a career as an idol with the promise of getting him close to Rima.

Crown of Love is the retelling of an older series by mangaka Yun Kouga, originally serialized in 1988. That series was only two volumes long, with an ending described by the artist as “abrupt.” With that in mind, it’s not surprising that this volume offers an uneven mix of clunky exposition and insightful characterization.

The volume’s narration switches point-of-view constantly, revealing far too many of the characters’ inner thoughts, most of which could be more effectively implied through the story’s dialogue and art. The story’s chronology is all over the place too, jumping back and forth from Hisayoshi’s encounters with Rima, his disapproving father, and Ikeshiba, creating a great deal of confusion over what happens when.

All this aside, where Kouga succeeds, and stunningly so, is in her characterization. There are no shojo stereotypes here, despite appearances.

As he watches his desperate, submissive mother cowering under the rule of his controlling father, Hisayoshi is horrified to recognize himself in both of them. He is sickened by the intensity of feeling he has for Rima, a girl he barely knows, but can’t stop himself from prostrating himself before her, like his mother before her husband. Similarly, he recognizes his father’s stubborn arrogance in his own face and voice and hates himself for that. Hisayoshi is fully aware of what he means to Ikeshiba—fortune, notoriety, and possibly (though only lightly implied) sexual satisfaction—and though it angers him, he is willing to be led along in order to achieve his own goals. For all his righteous anger, he’s ready to play the game, too. “You’re so convenient, like a taxi,” he says to Ikeshiba after calling him in the middle of the night for a ride and a place to stay.

The idol, Rima, is in love with her married former manager (Ikeshiba) and resentful of Hisayoshi, whom she sees as a rival—more for Ikeshiba’s attention than the public’s, though she uses the latter as her rationale. She is insecure about her position in the business and endlessly embarrassed by her mother’s indiscretions. Rather than the typical bird in a gilded cage, she is portrayed as a scared young woman who gratefully accepted her career in order to escape her family and her own limitations. “Well, I can’t get a real job! There’s nothing else I’m good at!” she barks at Hisayoshi, angered by his nonchalance over his own career. More than anything, though, she wants to be taken care of by someone more capable than her mother.

Ikeshiba, however, is the series’ true piece of work. Manipulative and emotionally unavailable, he has few scruples about anything if it will get what he wants. When Rima’s attachment to him becomes too desperate to be convenient, he simply turns her over to another manager. Still, he’ll use that attachment to help reel in Hisayoshi without even a trace of guilt. His full interest in Hisayoshi is unclear, though he carelessly engages in a sort of artful flirting when Hisayoshi calls him for help. His full interest in anything is really anyone’s guess, though he goes about it all with a smile on his face. “I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me,” Hisayoshi muses early on. It seems somewhat possible that he has.

The fact that the characters seem to know just how screwed up they are is what rescues them from being too disturbing to bear, though even then it’s hard to read some of Hisayoshi’s internal monologue without feeling a bit of a chill. “I keep thinking of all these different things I want to do with you. Like this… and that…” he says to himself near the end of the book, dreaming of Rima. “But that’s okay, right? As long as I’m just thinking about it, it’s not wrong. I haven’t done anything yet.” It’s difficult at this point to tell just how seriously Kouga takes the broken universe she’s created in Crown of Love, something that will ultimately decide whether the series is deep and insightful or just plain creepy.

As always, Kouga’s art is a highlight of her work. There’s something essentially cheerful and straightforward about her layout and designs that gives a story like this an even darker tone than it might have with a more overtly sinister look. Also, though the story is far from light-hearted, there is a clarity to Kouga’s visual storytelling that keeps it from becoming mired in its own weight.

Though this series’ first volume has its share of stumbles, it is also genuinely intriguing, more than many shojo titles can claim this early on. Crown of Love is definitely worth a try.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

My big news for the day is to point you all to my review of Jason Thompson and Victor Hao’s King of RPGs over at About.com!

In the interest of being professional (as well as conforming to About.com’s strict format and character limit) I did not gush nearly as much over this comic as I might have in this blog, so let me make this perfectly clear: I really enjoyed King of RPGs. I mean, really, really, really.

Was it my experience with gamers that most hooked me? Hard to say. Was it my love of shonen manga? I dunno. Do I think Jason Thompson is Just That Funny? Maybe. All I know for sure is that I spent a significant portion of my reading time laughing out loud in a truly obnoxious fashion and that there was one Death Note reference that literally had me falling out of my chair.

Whether you love gamers, manga, or just a good, long laugh, I recommend giving King of RPGs a try. Check out Deb Aoki’s introduction and my full review for more. You may also be interested in Deb’s recent interview with the creators, Jason Thompson and Victor Hao, here!

Natsume’s Book of Friends
By Yuki Midorikawa
Published by Viz Media

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Teenaged orphan Takashi Natsume has spent most of his life passed around from relative to relative, each anxious to be rid of him thanks to his habit of talking about things they can’t see. As it happens, Takashi is able to see spirits (yokai), an ability he inherited from his grandmother, Reiko. He also inherited the innocuously named “Book of Friends,” a book Reiko used to write down the names of yokai, effectively enslaving them to her every command. Now living with distant relatives near the home where his grandmother grew up, Takashi begins to encounter the many yokai she bullied over the years. Desperate to claim the book for themselves, the yokai first appear simply as enemies, but as Takashi discovers what it is they’re really after (thanks to an uneasy alliance with a cat-shaped demon he accidentally frees from its protective ward) he becomes determined to give them back their names. Word spreads, and soon the yokai are seeking him out, most with the purpose of gaining their freedom, though not all are so benign.

This story is a pleasant surprise on all counts–art, characterization, storytelling–providing something much more charming than I would have gathered simply from its PR material. It possesses a sort of xxxHolic meets Mushishi vibe I’d hoped for (but never found) in Tokyopop’s Tactics, which is not to suggest that it lacks its own unique charms. This volume is charming from start to finish, thanks to Takashi (whose good heart shines even as he faces rejection from family and peers) and the spirits he meets along the way, ranging from downright adorable to genuinely frightening.

The chapters are fairly episodic, each introducing a new spirit who has come to retrieve his or her name from Reiko’s book. Some especially poignant stories include that of a yokai who spent his life in a shrine, worshiped by locals as a god, now reduced to the size of a tiny doll as his worshipers have dwindled to one. His devotion to the last old woman to continue to offer respects is unexpectedly touching. Another especially moving story is that of a spirit (once a swallow) who attaches herself to Takashi in hopes of catching a glimpse of a human who once comforted her years ago. It is Takashi’s own loneliness that allows him to understand the feelings of these yokai and it is through his experiences with them that he learns the value of connecting with others. “Man and beast…even yokai… they search for that connection,” he says to himself at the end of the volume. “I love their fervent striving.” An emerging subplot involving another student at Takashi’s school promises more through-story as the series continues, which is something I’ll definitely look forward to.

This series is touching and even solemn in its treatment of both humans and yokai, but not without humor. Takashi’s supernatural companion, for instance (whom he refers to as “Nyanko-sensei”) is not a warm, fuzzy yokai by any means and only stays with Takashi because he’s been promised the “Book of Friends” should Takashi die before returning all the names. Yet he spent so many years trapped in the form of a Lucky Cat that he has taken on the form himself, much to his dismay. Several of the story’s characters, in fact (such as a couple of trickster yokai who at one point insist on becoming Takashi’s entourage) exist mainly to provide comic relief, but what makes the humor really work in this series is that it is never there purely for its own sake.

Yuki Midorikawa’s artwork is understated and perhaps nothing special, but she manages some beautiful imagery at just the right moments. There is a genuine feel to the story’s yokai, bringing a traditional sensibility into this modern story, much as the modern dress of Mushishi’s Ginko does the reverse for its nineteenth-century setting. I particularly enjoy Midorikawa’s imaginative and intuitive panel layouts which are especially effective in terms of pacing.

Though many elements of its story are well-trodden territory in girls’ supernatural manga, Natsume’s Book of Friends brings a quiet thoughtfulness to the genre more characteristic of adult series like Mushishi or delicate shojo romances such as We Were There. An unexpected treasure among recent Shojo Beat titles, Natsume’s Book of Friends is definitely a series to keep an eye on.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

One Thousand and One Nights, Vol. 9
By Han SeungHee & Jeon JinSeok
Published by Yen Press

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With the disgraced sultan Shahryar on the run and brother Shazaman hot on his trail, the Caliph names Emir Jafar as temporary sultan of Baghdad, passing on to him the task of taking back Jerusalem from the western invaders. Though he has no choice but to comply, Jafar has other matters on his mind such as uncovering the truth about Shazaman and Fatima. Thankfully, with a bit of luck and a bit more stealth, Jafar stumbles upon a horrifying secret which reveals that Shahryar is, stunningly, the sane brother, despite his history as a misogynistic serial murderer. Meanwhile, Shahryar and Shazaman face off in the desert as raging storms turn the terrain into a flash flood zone. Over in the western camp, King MacLeod is putting the moves on Sehera, by which I mean giving him books, namely 14th-century Chinese historical novel The Romance of the Three Kingdoms which becomes this volume’s story-within-a-story.

Like volume eight, this volume suffers a bit from the affliction I like to call “Lack of Sehera,” but there is plenty of plotty goodness to fill the void, particularly concerning the history of Shahryar and Shazaman’s relationship with each other and with their childhood friend Jafar. With current events juxtaposed against scenes from their childhood, it’s hard not to feel pain for both brothers and impossible to avoid the question of just how both of them became so irretrievably twisted as adults. Though, thanks to Sehera’s influence, Shahryar has begun to seek a kind of personal redemption, Shazaman’s emotional wounds remain open and untreated, infecting him to the core.

Aside from this volume’s drama between brothers, a real highlight is Sehera’s retelling of The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which ends the volume with a painful lesson for MacLeod who may be about to learn that despite Sehera’s devotion to duty, his loyalty ultimately belongs to another. Though what appears here is obviously just a tiny fragment of the original Chinese epic (which stands at 800,000 words and 120 chapters) it is more than enough to entice readers to seek out the source material for more. This was, apparently, a strong motivation for its inclusion in the story, as the volume’s endnotes reveal writer Jeon JinSeok’s desire to introduce the testosterone-heavy novel to a new generation of female readers who may not have been otherwise encouraged to check it out. Though I’m unable to speak for the young women of South Korea, I can certainly confirm that his plan has worked on me.

With several characters’ lives hanging in the balance (really) by the end of the volume, the tension in this series shows no sign of letting up anytime soon, and with only two volumes remaining, readers face a single burning question: how to survive the wait until the next volume.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Butterflies, Flowers, Vol. 1
By Yuki Yoshihara
Published by Viz Media

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Choko Kuze’s once-wealthy family fell into financial ruin when she was seven years old, forcing them to trade in their heavily-staffed country estate for a family-run noodle shop. Now a grown woman seeking her first job, Choko is cornered into signing on with the only firm to show any interest, which is unfortunately the same company whose interviewer asked her such wildly inappropriate questions as, “Are you a virgin?” Things are no better once she begins work, as the outrageous interviewer takes her under his tyrannical wing , choosing to personally train her for his department rather than allowing her to learn alongside the company’s other new hires. Confused by his attention and unwarranted familiarity, Choko tries her best, even while her coworkers rant about her behind her back. Finally, then, a slip of the tongue reveals that Choko’s new boss is actually the son of her family’s former chauffeur (once known to her as “Cha-chan”) who had cared for her a child and promised they would one day be reunited.

Though this revelation clears up a lot of questions for Choko, it actually makes her life much more complex. She’s grateful to reconnect with the boy she so loved as a child but his adult self is unfamiliar and fraught with contradiction. Furthermore, their relationship both in and outside of work is a confusing mess, with “Cha-chan” (more appropriately known as Masayuki) vaulting back and forth from controlling boss to obedient servant multiple times a day, leaving Choko constantly flustered over where she really stands. To complicate matters further, she also finds herself falling for Masayuki, whose perception of her as a helpless innocent he must protect (he still addresses her by the childhood name, “Milady”) prevents him from seeing her as an adult, let alone a candidate for romance. Help arrives in the (unexpected) form of Masayuki’s cross-dressing best friend, Suou, who sees Choko as someone uniquely worthy of his friend’s affection, but can anyone truly overcome such complicated mutual history?

This series’ premise may first appear to be shojo all over–shojo of the worst kind, even, with its controlling male love interest winning over the passive heroine with occasional crumbs of condescending kindness. Fortunately, there is a solid thread of adult humor and understanding running through the entire volume that makes its content both more complex and more palatable, exposing the series’ true brilliance. The result is a smart, funny, romantic comedy that takes some real shots at both soap-opera romance and Japanese office politics without ever taking itself too seriously.

Though Choko is undeniably drawn to Masayuki, she recognizes the maddening contradiction in her own feelings, something most every adult woman has faced at some point in her life. “I don’t want him to treat me like a child, but I want him to stay close and indulge me. I want him to call me ‘Milady,’ but I want him to see me as a woman,” she laments as she realizes she’s fallen in love. Meanwhile, Masayuki is just as confused as she is, torn ungracefully between the desire to control Choko and the world around her and the desire to be controlled by her. With both gender and class dynamics (some specific to modern Japanese society, others more universal) being constantly turned on their heads and back again over the course of this volume, the characters’ mutual confusion becomes both surprisingly sympathetic and genuinely humorous as the story progresses.

Speaking of humor, it’s important to be clear here that this manga is really quite funny, often in unexpected moments. For instance, when Choko finds herself in terrifying position of being expected to “entertain” a visiting client in the most horrifying sense possible, Masayuki arrives to save the day by gravely offering himself up as her replacement. The volume is filled with over-the-top behavior played with utter sincerity, rendering all of it twice as funny as it would be if it was delivered with a wink and a smile. Take this deadpan exchange for instance:

Choko: And please stop calling me “Milady.”
Masayuki: Then how about “Milady-Poo”?

The series’ art is a highlight as well–fresh, sharp, and stylized as needed. The use of popular shojo imagery, such as flowers and stormy backgrounds, helps accent the romantic melodrama while the overall cleanliness keeps everything in perspective. Like the story itself, Yoshihara’s art operates on multiple levels, maintaining its aura of smart humor while also providing the seeds of real substance. What this manga will ultimately turn out to be is anyone’s guess but whatever game is being played, both the story and its artwork are playing along perfectly.

With the second volume of Butterflies, Flowers not due out until March, it’s difficult not to feel impatient. Though the series’ first volume is charming to be sure, there is a sense that its true colors have not yet been spotted. Despite the story’s obvious commitment to humor at this stage in the game, there’s enough romantic substance bubbling underneath to suggest the possibility of a deeper direction. Though most of the characters in Choko’s life are painted with a hilariously broad brush, that each of them has more to offer seems quite clear. Time will tell how much of this we’ll see as the story continues.

In the meantime, there’s plenty to enjoy as-is. Butterflies, Flowers is truly delightful.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Pandora Hearts, Volume 1
By Jun Mochizuki
Published by Yen Press

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Oz Vessalius, aged fifteen, is a carefree young aristocrat with an absent father whom he has emotionally replaced with his kind, attentive uncle. On the morning of his coming-of-age ceremony, he goofs around with his little sister, Ada, and teases his young servant, Gilbert, who is mortified to hear that Oz wishes him to be part of the ceremony, not as a servant but as a friend. The day is filled with oddities, such as the discovery of a hidden grave on the mansion property where Oz’s family ceremonies are held, accompanied by strange visions of an angry girl in a surreal, lonely place, and Oz’s sense of uneasiness begins to grow.

As his ceremony finally gets underway, Oz is shocked to find himself surrounded by cloaked figures ready to cast him into The Abyss, a place he has heard of only in stories as a terrifying prison where the world’s worst sinners are locked away forever. Though the proceedings are disrupted by the appearance of the girl in Oz’s earlier vision (whose dual appearance as an enormous black rabbit has earned her the nickname “B-Rabbit”), the cloaked crowd ultimately has its way and, branded with a sin he knows nothing about, Oz is thrown into The Abyss.

Once there, he finds himself battling “chains” (creatures of The Abyss who are anxious to eat him), though again he encounters the girl from his vision who introduces herself as Alice. Alice is also a chain, she tells him, and as Oz struggles for his life, she lures him into a contract that would allow them both to escape The Abyss. Upon their escape, they are greeted by three members of an organization called Pandora, who use Oz’s devotion to Alice (and Alice’s desire to recover her lost memories) as a tool to convince them to join in on their quest to discover the motives of the Baskervilles–the group who sent Oz to The Abyss in the first place.

That’s a lot of plot to spell out in a single review, though it really only scratches the surface of this whirlwind shonen fantasy. Impressively, though the story races along at an exceptionally fast pace, it is very easy to follow and its characters immediately take shape, evoking both sympathy and great interest from the beginning. Both Oz, whose carefree attitude hides significant intelligence and compassion, and Alice, whose aggressive, fearsome persona seems crafted to protect the psyche of a very damaged young girl, are immediately compelling. Even the three from Pandora–Sharon, whose youthful appearance seems a bit suspect, Break, whose attachment to a possibly supernatural doll-like creature (Emily) he keeps on his shoulder paints him as pretty much off his rocker, and Raven, a tall, dark, sullen man who seems unusually protective of Oz–are already distinctive and fairly enthralling, thanks to Jun Mochizuki’s clear writing and artistic skill.

Mochozuki’s art is central to the atmosphere of this manga, with its detailed character designs and settings. Much inspiration is taken from John Tennial’s vision of Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland, with the addition of Mochizuki’s own style which excels particularly in the story’s creepiest moments, such as Oz’s adventure in The Abyss. Mochizuki also has a tendency towards generously-sized coats and shirtsleeves that hang over the characters’ hands, which might suggest typical moe infantilizing if not for the fact that it is applied to male characters as often as (or more than) female characters. It is the costuming in particular that shapes Break’s character, for instance, rendering him strangely endearing instead of just terrifyingly crazy. These observations are not meant to belittle the writing at all, of course. In fact, it is the combination of both that creates these distinctive characters so quickly and with apparent effortlessness. The story’s actions sequences are unusually coherent and easy to follow, with a very dramatic use of contrast and paneling, matching its surreal setting beautifully.

As with any story as elaborately set up as this one, the real question at the end of a strong first volume is whether or not the author can effectively follow through with what’s been put into play. The series has offered more questions than answers at this point, relying mainly on the strength of its characters to hold the reader’s attention through the din. That said, there is enough promise in this fun, mysterious fantasy to ease all doubts for the moment and simply anticipate. Fast-paced, enigmatic, and attractive to the eye, Pandora Hearts is easy to recommend.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Time and Again, Volume 1
By JiUn Yun
Published by Yen Press

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Baek-On Ju is lazy, selfish, frequently drunk, and generally rude. He’s also a gifted exorcist, who makes a living hiring out both his talents and those of his companion, Ho-Yeon, a martial artist who acts as his bodyguard. Though this episodic volume hints at tragic histories for both characters, it is mainly concerned with their involvement in the tragedies of others. Some of their clients (such as a mother and son plagued by by the ghost of the son’s wronged wife) are suffering tragedy caused by themselves, while others (such as a couple horrified to hear that their newborn son is destined to die in his teens) face tragedy that has been dealt to them by fate. Included, too, are a couple of seemingly unrelated stories (one gruesome, one sad) which match the others in tone, if not in particulars.

Though this volume’s storytelling is somewhat uneven, especially in terms of character development, there is more than enough to chew on for readers interested in ghost stories, or even eighth-century Chinese culture. The author includes a little bit of Tang Dynasty history in the volume’s end notes, and though she deliberately states that this comic is a fantasy and not meant to be faithful to history, her interest in the period is evident throughout. The stories are steeped in a solemn stew of religion and folklore, finding their inspiration in Chinese poems (like Li Bai’s “Writing in a Strange Place”), Japanese fables (“The Tongue-Cut Sparrow”), and other sources of varying East Asian origin. Even its original title is borrowed from a Goryeo Dynasty-era Korean poet. Though the result of all this inspiration is not nearly as profound or thoughtful as one might expect, the book is intriguing and emotionally affecting all the same.

Though Baek-On is sought out mainly to rid people of their woes, quite frequently there is actually very little he can do for them, as most have created (or had created for them) circumstances from which there is no easy escape, a truth that few of them are able to receive gracefully. The parents of the infant fated to die young, for instance, are unable to accept the fact that there is nothing that can be done to change their child’s future, and even go so far as to camp outside Baek-On’s home until he will give them some kind of hope. That the “hope” he is able to offer them will cause future misery for their son is obvious, though the parents’ insistence on pursuing it anyway is both painfully understandable and inexpressibly sad. The laws of fate and karma held as truth in the story’s universe are unyielding and indifferent to pain or compassion, just its people are stubborn and undeniably human, unable to compromise present happiness to avoid long-term tragedy. What makes this manhwa work best, however, is Baek-On’s bad humor and irreverence juxtaposed over so much grave suffering, providing a wry perspective on the failures of humanity (including his own).

The characters of Baek-On and Ho-Yeon are yet undeveloped, though there is a lot of potential in these early stories. The characterization is very much like the story’s art at this point–surprisingly sparse in places and occasionally difficult to follow–like a work not quite finished, yet still well-formed enough to have a recognizable shape. The story’s paneling in particular is confusing at times, without a clear path for the eye to follow, yet just as with its characters, the story is intriguing enough to inspire some extra effort.

Though Time and Again gets off to a somewhat rocky start, its ominous tone, historical setting, and idiosyncratic characters are certainly encouraging, and suggest strong potential for its future as a supernatural series–a refreshing addition to Yen Press’ manhwa catalogue. I definitely look forward to future volumes.

Review copy provided by the publisher.