Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle

Off the Shelf: Loveless, Puzzles, Infernal Devices

November 3, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 9 Comments

MELINDA: Good morning, Michelle! I’ve just returned from a long walk with the dog, and the brisk weather has made my hands stiff. It’s hard to type! I hope a hot cup of coffee will warm them up quickly.

MICHELLE: I’ve not been outside yet, but it’s looking more foggy than brisk. But so long as it doesn’t rain, I am content. Is it your turn to go first? What have you been reading this week?

MELINDA: Ah, ha! It is not my turn! And so I turn the microphone back to you. What have you been reading?

MICHELLE: Curses, foiled again! I suppose I have no choice but to talk about… Puzzles on an Isolated Island! This series debuted recently on JManga with relatively little fanfare, but once I noticed it was both shoujo and a mystery, I decided to check it out. Alas, it turned out to have the same problems other mysteries in manga form also struggle with.

First, the premise. Alice Arisugawa (male) is a second-year university student who belongs to his school’s mystery novel club, along with level-headed senior Jiro Egami and enthusiastic fellow second-year Maria Arima. When Maria shows the group a treasure map inherited from her puzzle-loving grandfather, with a wealth of diamonds as the prize, the trio ends up journing to Kashiki Island, where the Arima family has a villa, to attempt to solve the puzzle. Instead of being motivated by the diamonds, however, Maria mainly wants to finish the task that her cousin died attempting three years previously.

When they get to the “isolated” island, they find about a dozen different Arima family members and friends. In the grand tradition of mystery manga like Case Closed, each of these characters is introduced with a box stating their name and occupation. None of them has any depth whatsoever, though we do get a few clues about which pair used to be lovers, or which guy doesn’t get along with his father-in-law. Soon enough, a typhoon rolls in and a murderer uses the cover of a back door slamming in the wind to kill a pair of guests with a rifle. The deaths are utterly unaffecting, not just to readers but to the characters as well, who rather emotionlessly begin trying to solve the case. The one spark of warmth comes from Alice himself, who is beginning to realize that he may have feelings for Maria.

Puzzles on an Isolated Island is a short series, complete in three volumes, and for that reason I’ll probably read the other two volumes just to see how it ends. I’m always excited by mystery manga, but in the end I simply must conclude that prose really does have the advantage where mysteries are concerned.

MELINDA: That’s so interesting, because other than the evidence at hand, it doesn’t seem like it should be difficult to write a good mystery in graphic novel form, does it? Am I missing an obvious shortcoming of the medium?

MICHELLE: Maybe because of the way manga is consumed, creators are trying to move the story along more swiftly. And so, in order to do that, things like character get sacrificed in favor of clues and theorizing. Maybe one day we’ll get a deliciously long-form mystery manga—heck, maybe something like that exists already that I just don’t know about—which will prove me wrong (and happily so).

Anyway, now I can ask you what you’ve been reading this week!

MELINDA: You can indeed, and I’ll even tell you! One of my debut reads this week was the first volume of Yen Press’ The Infernal Devices: Clockwork Angel, adapted from Cassandra Clare’s novel, with art by Hyekyung Baek.

Set as a prequel to Clare’s series, The Mortal Instruments, The Infernal Devices takes place over 100 years earlier, in Victorian England. Its first novel, Clockwork Angel, tells the story of Tessa Gray, a young woman who leaves New York to join her brother Nate in London, after the death of their aunt, with whom Tessa has lived since she and Nate lost their parents. When she arrives, she is informed that her brother has sent two women to meet her in his place, followed by a couple of fairly rude awakenings—the cold weather and her imminent kidnapping. The women lock her up and subject her to a series of experiments intended to force Tessa into using a special talent she was not even aware she possessed—the ability to change her shape into that of another person, living or dead, by holding an object that belongs to them.

Fortunately, Tessa’s captivity ends relatively quickly, as she’s rescued by a brash seventeen-year-old named Will Herondale, part of a group of “Shadowhunters,” who fight demons in the mortal world. Will takes Tessa back to the Shadowhunters’ “Institute,” where Tessa learns more about her abilities and suffers further shock when she eventually discovers her brother’s true motivations.

As a fan of supernatural shoujo manga, a story like The Infernal Devices contains nearly everything I’m most accustomed to as a reader. It’s got a slew of attractive characters with various supernatural abilities, a lovely period setting, and two rival love interests—one dark and dangerous, one comfortable and kind. Both love interests have poignant histories, of course, and both are extremely pretty. The trappings are so perfect, in fact, they come very close to feeling contrived. Fortunately, Clare just manages to save her story with some genuinely interesting characterization. And though Tessa begins as a bit of a cipher, she gains some real agency as the story goes on, and even pulls out the trick that saves the day at the end of the first volume.

Less fortunately, the series’ Victorian setting inevitably invites comparison with Yen’s other recent supernatural novel adaptation, Gail Carriger’s Soulless, which is far stronger—or at least makes a stronger impression with its debut volume. Like The Infernal Devices, Soulless introduces a supernatural society within its historical setting, complete with a sexy love interest (just one in Carriger’s case) and the usual romantic elements, but Soulless‘ awesomely capable heroine, Alexia, blows poor Tessa away. Hopefully The Infernal Devices‘ next volume will help narrow that gap a bit.

MICHELLE: I confess that I couldn’t get beyond the summary on this one, mostly because I am so beyond weary of supernatural organizations with names like “the Shadowhunters.” I got to that point and went, “Ugh, no.” I’m glad to hear that it’s better than I’d expected, though!

MELINDA: I can definitely relate to your weariness, and it was rather grudgingly that I accepted my own enjoyment of this volume. I think you’d enjoy it, too!

So, once again we have a mutual read on the docket for this week. Michelle, would you like to do the introductory honors?

MICHELLE: I will give it a whirl!

So, this week we both checked out the new 2-in-1 omnibus reissue of Yun Kouga’s Loveless, formerly licensed by TOKYOPOP and recently rescued by VIZ. In addition to continuing the series from where it left off with their release of volume nine, VIZ is also going back and publishing the first eight volumes, as well. I had a few volumes of this hanging around from the TOKYOPOP days, but had never read them, so this was a great opportunity to finally check things out. Going into this, I knew three things about Loveless: 1. There is a boy with cat ears, and these ears will vanish along with his virginity. 2. This boy’s elder brother has died. 3. This boy gets into suggestive situations with an adult guy who was a friend of his brother. And, really, that about sums it up, though there are nuances to embellish upon.

Ritsuka Aoyagi is twelve and has just transferred into a new school. He’s blunt and standoffish and has more than his share of problems. His mother is crazy and abusive and has refused to believe for the past couple of years that Ritsuka is really her son. Seimei, Ritsuka’s older brother, used to act as a buffer, but now he is gone, murdered by an organization called Septimal Moon. It’s this loneliness that leads Ritsuka to come to depend so much on Soubi, his brother’s former partner in the battle against said organization. Soubi’s a college student, and he and Ritsuka get very close very quickly. Though Ritsuka is upset to learn that Seimei commanded Soubi to love Ritsuka, he can’t help wanting to see him. Aside from a couple of brief kisses, their relationship is chaste, and Soubi claims not to have sexual interest in someone Ritsuka’s age, but it is kind of disturbing all the same.

Balancing this out is Ritsuka’s growing friendship with Yuiko, a cheerful girl who was determined to befriend him no matter how many times he rebuffed her. She’s the bright spot in the manga, though I get the feeling some Tohru Honda-esque tragedy in her backstory is just around the corner.

MELINDA: Well done! I have a feeling I’m enjoying this series more than you are, but given some of the relationship stuff, this doesn’t really surprise me. And on that note, I’ll jump right into the sort-of-disturbing relationship between Ritsuka and Soubi. While I certainly had the initial reaction of, “Whoa… this is kind of creepy,” I ultimately found it… well, really not very creepy at all, which led me to analyzing why that might be—and I think I figured it out!

More than anything, the Soubi/Ritsuka dynamic reminds me of a slightly more explicit (and by “explicit” I really just mean that they’ve kissed) version of the relationship between Shugo Chara!‘s eleven-year-old heroine, Amu, and high school senior Ikuto, who is set up from the beginning as a viable love interest (and eventually really becomes one later on). The main reason that Amu and Ikuto’s relationship never felt creepy to me is that it feels like the kid‘s fantasy, not the adult’s. Young girls will always fantasize about older boys/men, and in both Shugo Chara! and Loveless, one of the ways in which it seems to be clearly the younger character’s fantasy, is that it’s the older character (and only the older character) who is sexualized. Both Amu and Ritsuka are drawn as regular kids—there are no (in Amu’s case) panty shots or skimpy outfits or strategically “sexy” camera angles. They look like kids and they act like kids, and there’s nothing sexualized about it. The older characters, on the other hand, are the ones who receive the shoujo fanservice treatment. They are pretty and lithe and attractively fashionable. They glide around in a catlike manner, looking pretty as girls in the manner of nearly every teen idol in history. We’re asked to find them sexy and intriguing, but they ultimately feel safe in some way. It’s a young girl’s fantasy, through and through. The only real difference here is the addition of a BL element, which just kinda reveals Kouga’s personal proclivities more than anything else.

And speaking of Kouga’s proclivities… wow there is a lot going on here. There’s so much going on, in fact, that it comes close to being a train wreck, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that there is no train wreck I love more than a Yun Kouga train wreck. And this, I think, really comes down to characterization. Like a couple of my other Kouga favorites, Crown of Love and (the very different) Gestalt, the strength of the story is that everyone is really interesting. Even when she’s adhering to standard tropes (in this case, BL and shoujo tropes), Kouga doesn’t write standard characters. Everyone in Loveless is kind of a weirdo, in the same way as most actual people are weirdos. They have layers of sometimes-contradictory issues, little idiosyncrasies, both attractive and unattractive flaws—and these are all a real part of the story.

I’ll just pick a couple of my favorite characters here, beginning with Yuiko, whom you also like. I rather adore Yuiko, who at first appears to be a sort of standard “dumb girl” character, set up to help us root for the BL relationship, but really, she’s seriously awesome. She has her own quirks and her own complicated personal life, but she’s a true friend to Ritsuka and obviously someone who can be counted on. I fell for her immediately. Also, I’m very fond of Ritsuka himself, whose plight is really pretty awful. Not only has he taken over his brother’s role as a “sacrifice” in this supernatural battle of words he’s suddenly a part of, but his “true” name, “Loveless,” stands in painful contrast to his brother’s, “Beloved.” And this is the life he’s lived for the past few years, too. Having completely lost the memory of whomever “Ritsuka” was before, he lives with his mother’s grief over that loss every day, to the point that he’s started to believe that he somehow deserves her abuse, while also feeling a combination of terror and relief over the prospect that he, the current version of Ritsuka, might just disappear at any moment. His obsession with taking photos of everyone in his life and “making memories” with them is so desperate and poignant, I could die.

Obviously I’m liking this series a lot, heh. Which is odd, perhaps, but not unexpected, given its source.

MICHELLE: Though I was a bit snarky in my introduction, the truth is that I actually really am enjoying this, too. You’re absolutely right about all of the characters being interesting, and I too find the way Ritsuka perks up at the prospect of making memories (even with people he doesn’t really like) to be completely endearing. I like, too, that instead of being angry at his mom for her treatment of him, as my logical adult mind would dictate, he’s still extremely concerned for her and worries about what will happen to her if even this version of Ritsuka should disappear. He endures her abuse—sidebar: grr, I hate his useless father, who refuses to intervene—and yet comes away from that with the absolute conviction that he is never going to raise his hand against anyone.

Y’know, it occurs to me this is somewhat the opposite of Puzzles on an Isolated Island. Where that series is low on character, high on clues, Loveless is strong on character, and not forthcoming at all with clues. After two volumes, we still know practically nothing about Septimal Moon, or what the “plot” really is, but who cares? It’s still absorbing because of the characters. It’s not unlike Pandora Hearts in that way.

MELINDA: Yes! The father! Ugh. I’m so with you on that. And you make an excellent comparison there between Loveless and Puzzles on an Isolated Island, and also Pandora Hearts. I guess it’s obvious by now that out of those scenarios, I can get by on a skimpy (or confusing) plot more easily than I can on skimpy characterization, which makes me easy prey for a writer like Yun Kouga. I admit I kinda can’t wait for more.

MICHELLE: Even though I might be a little more restless for info—and a little more creeped out by… you know, I’m not sure it’s even Ritsuka and Soubi’s relationship so much as certain panels depicting them—I am generally quite content with the blend of elements in Loveless. Pleasantly surprised, really. I guess this is a case of us not knowing what we were missing ’til it wasn’t missing anymore!

MELINDA: Well said, Michelle!

Off the Shelf: King of RPGs, Genbu Kaiden, Pride

October 20, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 2 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! Did you hear about the fire at the circus?

MELINDA: Why no, Michelle. Why don’t you tell me about it?

MICHELLE: It was in tents!

MELINDA: Ba-dum dum *chick*.

MICHELLE: I concede that there is a distinct possibility that nobody enjoys these dumb jokes but me, but I can’t seem to resist trotting them out whenever it’s my turn to start us off. Anyhoo, read any good manga lately?

MELINDA: I certainly have! It’s been a long time coming, but I finally acquired myself a copy of the second volume of Jason Thompson and Victor Hao’s OEL manga series King of RPGs, released over a year ago by the much-missed Del Rey. I enthusiastically reviewed volume one many moons ago for Deb Aoki at About.com, but I’d missed continuing on. And now that I have, I’m sorry that it took me so long!

After volume one’s over-the-top, madcap, shounen-esque conclusion, the series’ second volume begins in relatively grounded territory as it introduces us to the online universe of “World of ~~Warcraft~~ Warfare,” the MMORPG that originally drove the story’s hero, Shesh, to hospitalization and extensive psychotherapy. WOW servers have been overrun by “gold farmers”—players who collect in-game valuables (currency, magical items, high-level characters, etc.) and sell them for real-world cash. As rival guild members battle and kill each other (rather than their AI enemies) over these valuables, the name “Moggrathka,” Shesh’s long-abandoned character, lives on in legend as the most-feared and respected player-killer of all time. Soon after, we’re reintroduced to Rona Orzak, volume one’s misguided, gamer-hating student policewoman, who inadvertently reawakens Shesh’s in-game alter-ego by way of her own WOW account, thus unleashing the player-killing monster into both the real and virtual worlds. Of course, in King of RPGs, only tabletop gaming can save the day!

This series has a lot going for it, particularly for gamers and shounen manga fans who are pretty much equally serviced by its generously applied fan culture references, character-driven narrative, and fast-paced adventure. But its greatest appeal by far is Jason Thompson’s spot-on humor, which somehow manages to make a bunch of potentially alienating in-jokes accessible to casual readers without mocking hard-core fans. I can only attribute this to Thompson’s obvious love for the subject matter, and its effectiveness really can’t be overstated. If there’s a consistent vibe that tends to emanate from real nerd culture, it’s a weird combination of passionate fandom and deep resentment over any attempt to bring newcomers into the fold—as if the conversion of each new fan somehow reduces the value of the fandom itself. But Thompson actively invites readers into the world of tabletop RPGs (and, more stealthily, shounen manga) with a real warmth and generosity that makes you want to join him at the table. That, more than anything, makes the series a great read. And the hilarity… oh, the hilarity!

I should mention, too, Hao’s artwork, which has really grown since the series’ beginning. Volume two’s visual storytelling is just as energetic as ever, but feels cleaner and vastly more focused, especially in later chapters.

MICHELLE: You know, I have volume one on my shelf, but never got around to reading it. It seems like I should rectify that. Has there been any word on the fate of this series now that Del Rey is no more?

MELINDA: Nothing official that I’m aware of (though I believe the authors are hopeful!), but Jason Thompson’s webcomic “expansion” has been running on the series’ website since February, so there’s something to tide us over, at least. Also, gamers will enjoy the fake blog of Theodore Dudek, King of RPGs‘ overenthusiastic GM.

So, now that I’ve sufficiently nerded-out, what have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: I have been enjoying a marathon catch-up read of Fushigi Yûgi: Genbu Kaiden, by Yuu Watase!

The anime of the original Fushigi Yûgi was one of the first shoujo anime I ever saw, and the story remains dear to my heart, even though I am fully cognizant of its flaws. When Genbu Kaiden started coming out in English, I collected it faithfully, but somehow never ended up reading it. Now that the much-anticipated tenth volume has finally been published (almost three years after volume nine), I made it my priority to get caught up.

And what a delightful read it has been! Watase sure has matured a lot as a storyteller in the intervening years, crafting a story that’s similar enough to the original to appeal to long-time fans, but fully its own creation capable of attracting new readers. Genbu Priestess Takiko Okuda is a much more likable heroine than the original’s Miaka, and the primary romance here is one that leaves me more touched than annoyed. I was actually expecting to like Tomite and Hikitsu the best (especially Hikitsu), since they appeared in the original story (and since Hikitsu is very pretty), but my favorite characters have actually turned out to be the Celestial warriors appearing here for the first time. I’m surprised by how much I like Uruki (Takiko’s love interest), but my favorite is probably Namame, the mute (only Takiko can hear his voice) but ever-helpful warrior who spends most of his time in the form of a stone doll.

In volume ten, the Celestial warriors have infiltrated the capital, where one of their number is being imprisoned and made to use his powers for the protection of the power-hungry emperor. Some nifty revelations ensue, including a tour through the memories of Uruki’s corrupt dad, but by far the most significant aspect of the story is that Takiko has begun to show signs of the same illness that claimed her mother’s life, but is trying to hide it from the others. She knows now that she will be compelled to sacrifice herself if she summons Genbu, but since her death seems imminent anyway, it might as well serve the purpose of saving people who are dying from war, cold, and starvation.

Although there are a few lighthearted moments—as well as a smattering of romantic ones—on the whole, this is a much more sober tale than the original and definitely its equal, if not its superior. I’m exceedingly glad to see volume eleven on the near horizon (March 2013) and hope that one day Watase is able to pen the Byakko saga, as well!

MELINDA: I’m so glad you’ve caught up on this series, because now we can share the squee! Having (still!) not read the original—something I’ll rectify soon—I don’t have the same reference for comparison, but I’ve enjoyed Genbu Kaiden immensely. I’ve also been surprised by how much I like Uruki, and I thought his romance with Takiko was one of the highlights of volume ten. And could Namame possibly be more adorable? I don’t think so!

MICHELLE: I am starting to think you may want to avoid the original until Genbu concludes, because it does give away the ending, though I am sure Watase has some surprises in store on that account.

Anyway! Once again, we have both read the debut volume(s) of a newly released series, which is something we enjoy doing and something we intend to do more of in future! Care to tackle the introductory duties this time, Melinda?

MELINDA: I’d be happy to!

So, this week’s mutual read comes from online publisher JManga, whose wealth of recent acquisitions includes Yukari Ichijo’s josei series Pride, originally from Shueisha’s Chorus magazine.

Pride follows the stories of two aspiring classical singers—Shio Asami, whose upscale musical education is abruptly halted by a sudden downturn in her widower father’s fortunes, and Moe Midorikawa, whose lower-class background has made entering the elitist world of opera an uphill battle from nearly every angle. Though the series’ plotline mainly concerns their mutual struggle to keep singing while maintaining day-to-day survival (along with the obligatory rivalries, both professional and romantic), the real meat of it all lies in the ways that their disparate backgrounds have formed their personalities and how that affects the way they approach their respective lives and careers.

Shio’s respectable upbringing and musical pedigree (her late mother was an international opera star) have burdened her with a sense of pride that is ultimately unhelpful when she requires assistance from others, and her well-schooled refinement hinders her ability to perform with any real emotional resonance. Meanwhile, Moe’s natural expressiveness as a singer is not quite enough to make up for inferior training, and her desperate personal circumstances have made her absolutely ruthless (and fairly ungraceful) in her quest for career success.

What works particularly well about all this is that Ichijo manages to make both characters pretty much equal parts sympathetic and maddening. And while Shio ends up tipping the scale in likability, it’s impossible not to sympathize with Moe’s deep need to escape from her truly icky origins. By the end of volume two, I found myself rooting for both of them, despite their genuinely ugly rivalry.

How about you?

MICHELLE: Kudos on that summary! I loved Pride almost without reservation. Let’s see if I can count the ways…

I love that Shio doesn’t follow the “poor little rich girl” stereotype. She and her father have a genuinely loving relationship, and though the fact that she’s been protected from pain and hardship all her life later becomes a weakness, it’s still this relationship that gives her the strength to persevere. As a musician, I really identify with Shio’s struggles with expressiveness and the realization that perfection is sometimes boring. I was especially interested when she abandons the fantasy of herself as a singing princess and really begins to recognize the reality of her situation. I worry that marrying Jinno, the producer, will allow her an only temporary return to that sparkling world, only to be followed my massive despair. (I worry for her marrying him much like I worried about Hachi marrying Takumi in NANA, actually.)

Too, I love that the rivalry between Shio and Moe is so very equal. They’ve each got skills the other doesn’t possess, which makes them the perfect mate/muse for the guy that the other girl fancies, and it all builds so organically. True, I can’t really like Moe very much, but I absolutely sympathize with her. About the only aspect of Pride that I didn’t love were the scenes involving Moe’s incredibly horrible mother, but I acknowledge they were necessary and am grateful that Ichijo kept them fairly brief.

Although each woman is dealt some awful blows, each also has a few lucky breaks, too, so everything balances out.

MELINDA: Well said, Michelle, on all counts!

I’ll add, I guess, that though I share your reservations about Shio marrying Jinno, at least she’s going in with her eyes open, unlike Hachi did in NANA. Shio’s not remotely in love with Jinno and has no illusions about him being in love with her, so while I think she’s ultimately in for a very unhappy marriage, at least she’s not fooling herself into thinking it’s a real marriage to begin with. In a way, that’s what makes it such a powerful plot point. She’s prepared for it to be disappointing, romantically, but I suspect it’s going to disappoint and hurt her in other ways that she’s not anticipating at all. And I’m sure it’ll make for great drama in future volumes!

MICHELLE: I’m sure it will! All in all, this is just a great depiction of how just plain old life can get in the way of one’s dreams, and how two women still have enough fight left in them to keep trying to attain what they want, rather than just giving up.

Thank you so much, JManga, for introducing us to Pride! Please, sirs, can we have some more?

MELINDA: Yes, yes, more!

Off the Shelf: Marginally glamorous

September 29, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 7 Comments

MELINDA: I’m having an unusually domestic morning here on this gloomy New England Saturday—laundry, dishes, pet care, and general de-cluttering. It’s a little depressing, frankly, and I’d much rather be talking about manga.

MICHELLE: Pretty much the first thing I do every day is scoop the kitty litter. It’s an unglamorous life, to be sure.

MELINDA: It is, indeed. So, shall we glam things up a bit?

MICHELLE: I don’t know about glam, but I’ll do my best.

One notable read for me this week was volume 20 of Taeko Watanabe’s Kaze Hikaru, a series that began its run in the shoujo pages of Betsucomi in 1997 before transferring to Flowers when that josei mag came into existence. It’s the story of Tominaga Sei, daughter of a former bushi, who joins the Shinsengumi disguised as a boy to avenge her father and brother. Under the name Kamiya Seizaburo, she has been with the troop for several years now and fallen in love with her captain, Okita Soji, who is the only one who knows her secret.

This series is really a charmer, and I’m so grateful that VIZ is continuing to release it, even if at the rate of one volume per year. Watanabe breathes life and warmth into these historical figures, developing a cast of men who are simultaneously endearing and uncouth. I’m particularly fond of their flawed and idealistic leader, Kondo, who inspires intense devotion from Okita in particular. There are comedic elements aplenty (and plenty of guys who find themselves attracted to “Kamiya”), but there are also tragic ones. (I was seriously so affected by the events of volume eleven that I stayed away from the series for, like, two years.) Historical events are portrayed with admirable accuracy, but the focus is always on how this affects the characters.

In this particular volume, there are things happening in the wider world—Kondo has gone off with the member of the troop most likely to sow dissent—but the main plot revolves around Kamiya “disguising” herself as a girl in order to spy on a fellow believed to be an assassin. All this time, Okita has been staunch in his resolve never to fall in love, wishing to devote his life to Kondo, but this mission causes him to simultaneously worry about Kamiya and become even more conscious of her femininity. I love that Watanabe has taken her time in getting him to this point; it’ll only heighten the tearful squee when and if he finally admits he loves her. Seriously, I just got geekbumps typing that.

What makes this even more potentially awesome, of course, is that the vast majority of the Shinsengumi does not meet a happy end. With the series still running in Japan, and US readers so far behind now, I have to wonder whether we’ll actually see that here. But I most earnestly hope that we do.

I also most earnestly hope that you are one day able to read this series, Melinda, for I think you would adore it.

MELINDA: I think I would, too, Michelle! And I’m especially anxious to pick it up, because though I’ve tired a bit of the whole “girl disguised as a boy” trope, I suspect that I’d love its execution in this particular series. Also, it sounds like there is some genuinely awesome heart-poundy squee to be had, which sends my romance-loving heart into spasms of true longing.

MICHELLE: If I recall rightly, I was a little dubious about the series at first because of its premise, and because Sei starts off as a bit of a hothead, but I’m glad I stuck with it. If VIZ ever transitions any series to digital-only status, I suspect Kaze Hikaru might be a prime candidate. So maybe that’ll be a way for you to catch up on it.

What’ve you been reading this week?

MELINDA: Well, fortunately, I’m in a position to bring on the glam!

This week, I allowed myself the pleasure of reading the first volume of Vertical’s new omnibus release of Ai Yazawa’s Paradise Kiss, which of course is a long-time favorite for both of us.

For the uninitiated, Paradise Kiss tells the story of Yukari, a pretty, long-limbed senior at a prestigious high school. Yukari is dutifully studying for college entrance exams in order to fulfill her parents’ expectations, though she herself has no real love for academics. While “pretty” and “long-limbed” are not adjectives I’d normally use when introducing a book’s heroine, they are extremely relevant in this case, as Yukari’s journey begins with a sudden request from a group of fashion design students who scout her as a model for their final senior project. Though Yukari initially refuses, she is slowly drawn in by both the students’ radically different approach to their imminent adulthood and their charismatic leader, George. As her career interests shift and her relationship with George intensifies over the course of the first two volumes (included here in Vertical’s initial omnibus), tension mounts quickly in Yukari’s school and family lives, making some kind of breaking point pretty inevitable.

Since we’ve discussed this series here pretty extensively in the past, I’ll get right to the nitty-gritty of Vertical’s release. When it comes to manga trim size, bigger is nearly always better, and Vertical’s edition benefits heavily from its luxurious page size. The whole production feels elegant, from the silky cover texture to the book’s smooth paper. And though my scanner isn’t high-quality enough to offer any value in terms of demonstrating print quality, you can see from this set of contrasting scans that the trim size also allows us to see a bit more of the artwork in the margins of each page.

(Click images to enlarge.)

Paradise Kiss, Tokyopop Edition

Paradise Kiss, Vertical Edition

Vertical’s editions also include a brand new translation, which already demonstrates that it intends to be more up-front about things like George’s sexual kinks (even using the term “kink” regularly, rather than having Arashi repeatedly refer to him as a “pervert”). These are all good things. I’ve chosen these particular pages, however, to bring attention to some of the translation differences that work slightly *less* well for me than the TOKYOPOP editions did.

Though I don’t own the Japanese editions of this series (and wouldn’t be able to read them if I did), given what I know about the two publishers in question (and even just the aesthetic of the manga industry then versus now), I’m going to to out on a limb and guess that the TOKYOPOP translation is more liberally adapted than Vertical’s—by which I mean to say that there may be more license taken with the adaptation in favor of reaching an English-speaking audience. Many consider this type of heavy adaptation to be a negative thing, but I’ll admit that I often disagree.

Let’s take this scene, for example. Again, I’m guessing that the TOKYOPOP edition is more liberal with its wording here—choosing “friendly” over “good” for their flirty banter, and so on. But as the scene goes on, I have to admit that the Vertical translation simply doesn’t have the same punch. When I first read this series, Yukari’s final external/internal rant here pretty much blew my romantic heart to bits.

“You call that friendly? That’s not nearly enough to satisfy me. Don’t think the world revolves around you. I’ll make you so in love with me, that every time our lips touch, you’ll die a little death.”

I mean, that’s pretty awesomely dramatic. It’s strong. It’s… GAH. Yeah. That. The last line in particular is a romantic kick in the gut. In contrast, Vertical’s wording here, “I’ll make you so entranced you won’t be able to keep playing it so cool” just feels kinda… well… namby-pamby. And, frankly, kind of a mouthful. Even though I suspect it’s closer to the original meaning (folks in the know can tell me if I’m wrong), it’s just much weaker English prose.

Obviously, there’s a lot of trade-off, and overall I think Vertical’s adaptation may come out ahead. But these differences make me glad to own both versions of the series, so that I have the chance to experience both takes on it.

MICHELLE: I vastly prefer the TOKYOPOP interpretation of that scene, myself.

And, wow! Thank you for comparing these editions this way! I had been wondering whether I ought to keep my mismatched TOKYOPOP set, and now it is clear that I should. There’s room in my heart for both, I find.

MELINDA: Yes, well said! There is room in my heart for both as well. I highly recommend buying the lovely, new editions and also hanging on to the old ones. For a series this good, it’s worth the extra shelf space!

So, we also partook in a mutual read this week—another Vertical title, in fact. Would you like to introduce it?

MICHELLE: Sure!

The debut volume of Limit—a shoujo manga by Keiko Suenobu, also of TOKYOPOP’s Life—introduces readers to several female high school students. There are the cool ones—Sakura, the beautiful ringleader who despises “fugly” people, and her devotees—and the uncool ones, including Kamiya, a bookish and sensible girl, and Morishige, who’s rather weird. In between these groups floats Mizuki Konno, who is ostensibly part of Sakura’s group, but who is really just adept at going with the flow. She’s determined that being friends with the popular crowd will make her own high-school experience easier, so that’s what she’s doing, even though she secretly admires Kamiya’s kindness. When a bus accident on a school trip leaves Sakura dead and Morishige in charge, Konno’s capability for adapting is tested, as the girls face at least several days before rescue can be expected.

MELINDA: Well done, Michelle!

The series is being marketed as a mix of Lord of the Flies and Heathers, which is appropriate I suppose, but in a way I think it diminishes both its strengths and weaknesses. Despite its dark tone and heavy subject matter, Limit is in no way as thematically ambitious as Lord of the Flies, nor is it as sharply satirical as Heathers—and to be fair, I don’t think it’s attempting to be either. It does, however, have plenty of strengths of its own.

Limit‘s biggest asset at this point, in my opinion, is Konno, its difficult protagonist. I call her “difficult” because I think it’s really tricky to get an audience invested in a main character whose motives are so morally weak and self-serving, but when done well, this can be really freaking effective. As I say that, I realize this is actually one of the traits Limit indeed shares with Heathers, whose protagonist spends so much of her time participating in things she knows are shitty but keep her in the Heathers’ good graces. Author Keiko Suenobu is even more brutal with Konno, however, as she actively initiates cruelty (such as turning Kamiya’s kindness towards a collapsed man on the street into fodder for bullying) when she feels her position in the group weakening. Suenobu pulls it off, though, and as the end of the first volume comes to a close, I found myself secretly rooting for Konno, despite her questionable moral backbone.

MICHELLE: One of the things that got me to sympathize with Konno was that Suenobu immediately dives into her motivations, so that we know that she’s not unredeemably mean, but just trying to make it through school/life/etc. without getting hurt. Not everyone can manage that, but she can, so she’s taking advantage of the path that presents itself to her and not feeling too bad about it. I can’t really blame her for that, though of course some of the things this compels her to do are, as you say, shitty.

I also liked that Suenobu immediately assigns some imagery to Konno’s philosophy: the swimming goldfish and the crosswalk sign. The green light of the latter becomes a symbol for Konno going with the flow, reappearing when she’s participating in teasing Kamiya, for example. When she later realizes that Morishige is insane and that the trauma of this experience, even if she survives it, will forever prevent her life from being easy, the light reappears, this time stuck on red. That perfect little world is gone forever.

MELINDA: I’m glad you brought that up, Michelle, because that kind of imagery is one of the things that makes this book work so well. Actually, the artwork overall is wonderfully expressive and bold when it needs to be. I was impressed throughout by how powerful the visual storytelling is, and this was definitely a major factor in my enjoyment of the book.

MICHELLE: The swirling fishes at the beginning reminded me of Moon Child, actually, and I thought, “I bet Melinda will like this art!”

MELINDA: You know me so well! Though it isn’t the artwork alone that sells me on this series, it definitely does a lot of the heavy lifting.

This is definitely an unusual shoujo release—at least here in North America—and it’s easy to see why Vertical picked it up since it fits in better with their catalogue than it would anywhere else, I think. I’m grateful they did pick it up, too. Though it’s the kind of premise I’d more often expect to see published in a shounen or seinen magazine (even with its all-female cast) it’s nice to see this story being told specifically for a female audience. This gives me hope, too, that we’ll see more nuance later on in characters like Morishige who, as the perpetually-bullied party, should be ultimately more sympathetic than she seems right now.

MICHELLE: I’m definitely curious to see how it plays out. Looks like it’s finished in Japan, too, with six volumes, so chances are good we’ll know the outcome by next summer. Maybe that’ll help soothe the woe over Life disappearing even before TOKYOPOP itself did.

Off the Shelf: Sakuran

August 30, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 4 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! What’s red and bad for your teeth?

MELINDA: Um. I got nothin’.

MICHELLE: A brick!

MELINDA: Well. Huh. Um. So, hi!

MICHELLE: Howdy! So, once again, we’re devoting our column to a single series. This time it’s Sakuran: Blossoms Wild by Moyoco Anno, published by Vertical. Although I own a couple of other complete series by Anno, this was my first time actually reading one of her works. I definitely enjoyed it, but found myself somewhat stuck between enjoying it for what it was and wishing it was somehow more uplifting.

But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself and we should offer readers a synopsis.

MELINDA: Okay!

Sakuran tells the story of Kiyoha, a young woman in Edo-era Japan who was sold to a brothel in Yoshiwara as a child. Over the course of the story, she endures the path towards becoming an oiran (the highest-ranking courtesan), very little of which is particularly graceful or glamorous, and after suffering through some unexpected heartbreak finally seems to accept the brothel as her home.

It’s a rather cynical tale that does not attempt to gloss over the fact that Kiyoha will most likely live her entire life in servitude (either to the brothel, or to some future man who might buy her freedom), and manages somehow to make the brothel feel like the better fate in the end.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it may be a difficult life, but at least Kiyoha seems to have made peace with it by the end.

Which is, really, not exactly the end, as Sakuran follows a similar structure to Ooku, in that the first chapter is “current day” in the life of its protagonist, followed by detail on how exactly Kiyoha came to be in that situation. Kiyoha’s not an easy person to like at first—one of the first things she does is clobber and pee on another courtesan—but I did grow to sympathize with her by the end, especially when her love proves false. “Cry, and you lose. Love, and you lose. Win, and you lose.”

MELINDA: I admit that I sympathized with her practically from the start, but especially as soon as Anno began to tell Kiyoha’s story from the beginning. Her intense desire to escape the pleasure quarter felt so real and relatable, I couldn’t help but side with her from then on.

One of the things I was immediately struck by was what a different kind of story this was from Blade of the Courtesans, a prose novel Vertical released a few years ago. Though the novel had some stirring moments, one of the comments I made in my review was this:

The story constantly describes the power of women in the Yoshiwara society, yet in the midst of an impassioned explanation of how the women are able to come to Yoshiwara to “rinse away their origins” and escape from the persecution of their clan, it is revealed that they are indentured to the various houses in the pleasure quarter (all owned by men) until their 28th birthday, at which time they may choose to get married or to remain courtesans for the rest of their lives. That these women, shackled to a system that values them only for their skills in lovemaking, are held up as the pinnacle of female beauty and sovereignty is inexpressibly sad.

If there is one thing Sakuran does not do, it’s try to romanticize or glorify the life of an indentured courtesan. For that, I am very grateful.

MICHELLE: It definitely does not do that.

It was an interesting experience reading this at about the same time as I was getting caught up on Ooku, because both of them deal with women forced to take many sexual partners but for vastly different reasons. It’s the courtesan’s job to do so, but so too the female shogun (who supposedly has all this power) must take lover after lover in the desperate attempt to produce a child hearty enough to become her heir. In reality, are they really so different, the shogun and the courtesan? In both cases, their fates are bleak as they submit to (or compel) their parade of lovers, very rarely finding true love.

MELINDA: That’s a great point, Michelle. Despite the power having supposedly been transferred to women out of necessity in Ooku, it’s ultimately still a story about women trapped in a society that values them really only for their sexual organs, one way or another.

Heh, you know, with all this in mind, I have to admit that I was pretty surprised to hear at the beginning that you had any hope or expectation of Sakuran being “uplifting.” Given the circumstances, it’s hard for me to imagine how it could be!

MICHELLE: Well, I don’t know, I thought she might actually escape or something! But, of course, her options really wouldn’t have been any better outside Yoshiwara (without a husband, at least), which Anno makes clear. So it would’ve completely been a fallacious fantasy to read a story about a courtesan getting out and living happily ever after. Not challenging for a reader, but kind of… satisfying.

MELINDA: I can understand the impulse to wish for a more unambiguously happy ending. Yet the ending as it is isn’t exactly bleak, even if it seems like it should be. That’s actually one of the book’s greatest strengths, really. It manages not to be just grim, which is kind of amazing.

MICHELLE: Definitely. I want to add here that if we’d actually been given a happier ending, I probably would’ve hated it and chastised Anno for not being brave and taking a darker route. I guess I’m just conditioned now to expect creators to go for uplifting instead of ambiguous, since it has happened so many times before.

MELINDA: Probably one of the reasons we’re able to get a more ambiguous ending here is the fact that, aside from something like Sugar Sugar Rune, Moyoco Anno mainly writes for adults–and most often about adult women. But since manga about teen girls is sort of the default for female-centric manga imported to the US, that’s really what we’ve become accustomed to.

MICHELLE: Yes, you’re definitely correct. And when we do encounter a story aimed at teen girls that takes a more painful route—We Were There, 13th Boy, to some extent…—we tend to love it to pieces.

MELINDA: We do! Now, I’m not sure if I’m prepared to say that I love Sakuran to pieces. I enjoyed it very much, and I think it’s very well-crafted, but it’s not the kind of story that resonates really strongly with me on a personal level the way some others do.

That said, as a critic there is so much here to enjoy. One aspect we haven’t really touched on yet is the artwork, which is really quite stunning, especially with Vertical’s particular touches. The paper choice, color pages, and beautiful foil cover let you know right away that Sakuran will be a visual treat.

MICHELLE: Well, no, I didn’t love Sakuran either, but I really admire it, if that makes sense.

Going in, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the artwork, since Anno has such a distinctive style, but I ultimately enjoyed it and thought she did a terrific job capturing the atmosphere of the tea house. I did have some problems with telling a few of the courtesans apart, though.

MELINDA: That makes perfect sense. I think that’s where I was at with it, too, though I did really feel strongly for the main character, which is always a big plus. And one of my favorite aspects of the artwork has to do with her as well. I was really impressed by Anno’s ability to visually portray both Kiyoha’s spite and her vulnerability, which is not a combination that always translates well to the page.

MICHELLE: I hadn’t thought about that specifically, but it’s true that even nearly two weeks after I read Sakuran, I can still easily conjure some of Kiyoha’s expressions falling into both of those categories. Actually, I can still vividly remember quite a few scenes, including specifics of panel layouts. And that’s not something I could say about quite a lot of other manga.

MELINDA: One thing Anno has accomplished, perhaps specifically by writing Sakuran as a collection of story snapshots rather than a long narrative, is that the moments she’s chosen to highlight are genuinely memorable, and that goes for individual images as well.

MICHELLE: Yes, that is true, though I still wish it could’ve been longer. Carlo Santos at ANN put it well: “This volume offers a glimpse into a fascinating world, but closes up before we ever get a chance to peek around the corners.”

MELINDA: I certainly would have read much, much more of it!

Off the Shelf: Goodnight, sweet cactus.

August 19, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 4 Comments

… And flights of chickens sing thee to thy rest.

MELINDA: Well hello, Michelle! Long time, no see!

MICHELLE Osashiburi, Melinda-san! I hope our readers didn’t think the Tokyo Babylon roundtable did us in!

MELINDA: Perhaps it did!

MICHELLE: But now we are back, rejuvenated by the awesome power of a much-beloved series coming to its end.

MELINDA: Oh, we are, we are! I’m sure most of our readers know by now just how much we both love SangEun Lee’s 13th Boy.

MICHELLE: Yes, we have been rather effusive with our affections! Perhaps we should note here that, as we will be discussing the twelfth and final volume of the series, there will be spoilers. It’s pretty much unavoidable. So, if you don’t want to know what happens, turn back before my next paragraph.

Still here? Okay, well, I have to say that my primary thought upon reading the end of the penultimate volume was, “No, Beatrice, no!!”

MELINDA: I can completely understand that reaction. I was pretty much there, too, though I also felt strongly that I already knew what was going to happen. I mean, let’s face it, the very first volume of the series tells us who Hee-So will end up with, if we’re paying any attention at all. In a way, I don’t even feel like this is a spoiler. And since I knew the only way for this to work would be for Beatrice to kind of… fold back into the person who created him, I knew it had to happen.

That said, I ‘shipped Hee-So/Beatrice with considerable verve, so the knowledge of this reality was a blow—and a hard one, at that.

On the other hand, I still loved watching this inevitability play out. Because SangEun Lee has given her heroine such awesome (and not entirely attractive) foibles, anything she goes through is both poignant and entertaining, and since Beatrice is so close to her heart, that goes double (maybe triple?) for her devastation over losing him.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I knew it was going to happen and that it had to happen, given the way the story was evidently planned from the beginning, but I still didn’t want it to happen. Heck, in the past I have read stories about Camelot and held a sliver of hope that maybe this time, things would turn out okay.

(click images to enlarge)

Maybe it’s all a dream? Sadly, no.

I definitely appreciated the extent of Hee-So’s grief. This whole situation reminded me of the latter third of Hikaru no Go, actually, when (spoiler!) Sai has vanished and Hikaru is castigating himself for not having valued him more when he was around. Too, I also thought SangEun Lee did a nicely subtle job of showing us that some of Beatrice’s traits live on in Whie-Young. For example, it seems that in addition to gifting a cactus with his love and devotion for Hee-So, Whie-Young also gave it his passionate love for fried chicken! So, when the boys merge back together and Whie-Young exhibits a craving, it’s actually kind of poignant.

MELINDA: Yes, yes! Details like the chicken craving really help bring home the fact that Hee-So actually hasn’t lost Beatrice at all, despite the hole he’s left in her heart. I also found Whie-Young’s journey to be pretty poignant, and as much as I loved Beatrice as his own entity, it was quite moving to see him finally get to be a whole person again.

On the topic of Hee-So’s pain, something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately—particularly after reading the first couple volumes of The Flowers of Evil, which is a very different series in some pretty obvious ways, but has one trait in common with 13th Boy—is just how much mileage an author can get out of managing to both mock and love her/his protagonist. In The Flowers of Evil, Shuzo Oshimi makes his protagonist believable as a teenager by allowing him to be pretentious and ridiculous and really making clear that this is what he is at this particular age.

Similarly, SangEnug Lee makes no bones about Hee-So being self-consiously dramatic (and also ridiculous) here in the series’ final volume, which ends up making her more sympathetic and relatable rather than less so for the reader. Watching Hee-So come to school every day in comically bundled-up mourning after the loss of Beatrice (visibly sweating in her seasonally-inappropriate garb, but unwilling to cop to that) only makes her grief feel more real, because man we all were that teenager at some point or another, whether it manifested itself the same way or not. I mean, on the face of it, 13th Boy‘s odd supernatural elements make it one of the strangest little romance series I’ve ever read, while Hee-So’s overblown teen angst also makes it one of the best.

MICHELLE: There have definitely been times I didn’t like her much, but I’d be hard-pressed to say otherwise about any teenager I’ve known, myself included. Regarding Whie-Young finally becoming a whole person, I confess that it hadn’t occurred to me for the first, oh, ten volumes or so, that he was so aloof and unfeeling precisely because the caring, emotional part of himself had been removed. I just thought he was your run-of-the-mill slightly jerky love interest.

MELINDA: Yeah, Whie-Young’s progression as a character here and what he gains back from reabsorbing Beatrice into his person could perhaps be a metaphor for the childish sweetness and open affection often lost during puberty–and especially absent from many teen romance love interests. I don’t know if SangEun Lee was trying to comment on that deliberately, but it’s certainly there. And either way, I love the fact that he doesn’t get the girl until he gains back the part of him that makes him actually lovable. Maybe I’m suffering from some sort of shoujo-manga-fatigue (Black Bird-itis?) but it’s nice to see that jerky personality portrayed as genuinely lacking rather than romantic and mysterious.

MICHELLE: Definitely. And maybe one could think of it like Beatrice kept that part of him safe for a while so that it wasn’t completely destroyed but could come back to him when he was ready for it.

It seems that, ultimately, we are both satisfied with the ending, even though it’s a bit sad. Personally, I love sad endings and am always disappointed when creators don’t go for it. But it’s hard to find it completely sad, given that Beatrice’s cactus spirit still seems to be watching over Hee-So, and the infusion of comedy helps, too. I love that one of Beatrice’s concerns as he deliberates what to do is, “Will she know where I put the fried chicken coupons?”

MELINDA: Yes! Heh, even just hearing you bring that up in passing charms me as thoroughly as did reading it for myself.

Speaking of humor (though not entirely humor), I also really enjoyed the series of side-stories inserted into the end of the volume which bring us up to speed with some of the supporting characters. I particularly enjoyed seeing what became of Won-Jun and Sae-Bom, and I was pretty gratified to see that their weirdly codependent relationship does not last. I also loved the romance-novel interlude with Hee-So and Whie-Young. But probably my very favorite of the side-stories is one in which Hee-So’s judo-champion best friend Nam-Joo catches the eye of the cutest boy in school. I love it because, instead of being a story about her transformation into a more feminine, boy-catching girl (which is what I might expect from the genre), it’s a story about how much she kicks ass as herself, and why that makes her stand out.

MICHELLE: I loved that story, too! Nam-Joo inspires the cute boy to action to earn her admiration, as opposed to the empty adulation he receives from other girls for simply being pretty. Have you seen any of the k-drama Secret Garden? It’s actually kind of similar, where a refined perfectionist kind of guy finds himself falling for a commoner stunt woman.

MELINDA: I haven’t! I’ll have to check that out!

It’s interesting that I like Nam-Joo so much, because she plays a role similar to that of Jun in NANA. And while as a reader who identifies strongly with Hachi, I often resented Jun’s judgements and advice, I don’t feel that way at all about Nam-Joo.

MICHELLE: Do we see Nam-Joo doing much talking critically about Hee-So behind her back? I feel like we see Jun do that several times—it’s been a while since I’ve read NANA—and that made her seem that much more judgmental.

MELINDA: That’s a good point. We see Nam-Joo lecturing Hee-So in person from time-to-time, but she’s definitely a loyal friend. In fact, the scene in this volume where she urges Whie-Young to tell Hee-So how he feels already (“Bring her back to life, okay?”) is a real favorite of mine.

MICHELLE: Well, loyal except for that episode early on that somehow involved Sae-Bom and which I can’t quite recall. But that can probably be chalked up to teen drama.

MELINDA: I can’t quite recall that incident either, but I have an urge now to re-read the series from the beginning. Perhaps my view of Nam-Joo will wither a bit then.

As we wrap up here, I’d just like to shed one final tear for my beloved Beatrice. *snif* We loved you, Beatrice! We ‘shipped you with your beloved! CACTUS LOVE FOREVER.

MICHELLE: I raise a chicken leg aloft in your honor!

Bye-bye, Beatrice.

Off the Shelf: Tokyo Babylon

July 25, 2012 by Danielle Leigh, Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 10 Comments

Warning: This roundtable contains spoilers for the entirety of Tokyo Babylon.

MELINDA: So, I’ll be honest, here. Though I am very anxious to see what the manga blogosphere has to say about CLAMP’s body of work as a whole, the biggest reason I proposed a CLAMP MMF in the first place was that I longed for an excuse to talk about my favorite CLAMP series, Tokyo Babylon.

As one of CLAMP’s earliest commercial works, Tokyo Babylon is certainly not their most deftly-plotted manga, nor their most polished—not by far. It is, however, one of their most honest manga, by which I mean that it contains a level of raw humanity and emotional truth that can be harder to find in some of their more sophisticated works.

And when it comes to things like “raw humanity” and “emotional truth,” who do I want to hash it out with? Why, The NANA Project, of course! This week, Michelle and I are pleased to welcome our NANA Project collaborator Danielle Leigh to the table for our MMF edition of Off the Shelf!

Welcome, Danielle, it’s so wonderful to have you here!

DANIELLE: Thanks so much for asking me to participate! We planned this so long ago but now that I’m rereading the project I found I’ve rediscovered my love of the title and, in a way, CLAMP as an artistic group. Even though parts of Tokyo Babylon are clumsy as hell I found myself really appreciating how well thought out the twists and turns were. For example, take all the artistic touches surrounding Seishirō anytime he appears in the work — CLAMP clearly knew who that character would be and what his backstory was from the very start.

And, okay, maybe the foreshadowing was heavy enough to drown in, sure, but there’s also a straightforward simplicity to how events play out that I feel CLAMP’s later titles would certainly benefit from (*cough* Tsubasa *cough*). It’s just refreshing to read a work and think, “yes, this plot was planned but not *forced.*”

MICHELLE: That was one thing I wanted to ask you two, actually. I pretty much learned about manga and CLAMP in the same breath, and because I asked a lot of questions, I was spoiled on the outcome of Tokyo Babylon before I ever read it. But, given that the foreshadowing is heavy-handed and starts at the end of volume one, was the reveal actually a surprise even to anyone who had not been spoiled?

MELINDA: For my part, I would say that the reveal of Seishirō as the Sakurazukamori was not remotely a surprise—nor do I think it was meant to be by that point. But what that ultimately meant for everyone involved was a huge surprise for me. I expected to find out that Seishirō was the “bad guy,” but I never expected his entire Seishirō-san persona to have essentially been a lie. I knew the truth, but I didn’t expect the consequences, if that makes sense.

DANIELLE: I was exposed to X/1999 (or the anime X) before I read this title so honestly I’m not sure if anyone would be *too* surprised about Seishirō being such a bad guy….but I think Melinda’s right. The consequences are so horrific when he finally takes off his nice guy mask that emotionally the whole thing *still* feels like a vicious punch to the gut.

MICHELLE: That’s a good way of putting it!

MELINDA: So, we’ve sort of accidentally started with the end of the series. Let’s back up a bit, so new readers can grasp what on earth it is we’re talking about!

For a series with such a sweeping title, Tokyo Babylon is a fairly intimate manga, in that it essentially has only three characters: Subaru, a shy 16-year-old onmyōji and head of the powerful Sumeragi clan; his twin sister, Hokuto; and Seishirō Sakurazuka, a kindly veterinarian whom the two Sumeragi twins have befriended. Other characters (like the twins’ grandmother, and a young woman Hokuto meets during adventures of her own) flow in and out of the story, along with a host of onmyōji customers and “monsters of the week,” but every real theme in this story revolves around these main three, and them alone.

All three characters are introduced in the first chapter, in which Subaru is finishing up a job exorcising the spirit of a young woman who committed suicide after being cruelly dumped by a womanizing celebrity. While Hokuto chastises Subaru for helping out such a creep, Seishirō points out Subaru’s kindness in freeing the young woman’s spirit for her own sake, establishing the trio’s dynamic pretty much immediately. As the series goes on, chronicling Subaru’s continued duties as an onmyōji, two things will remain consistent; Seishirō will express his love and admiration for Subaru’s selfless spirit, while Hokuto will wish desperately for him to abandon that selflessness just long enough to want something for himself—a wish that will ultimately have consequences far beyond her expectations.

Though the beginning of the series feels straightforwardly light and (rather awesomely) humorous, even its jokes—like Seishirō’s teasing “love” for Subaru—are pretty deeply nuanced, something that’s become even more apparent to me on this particular re-read.

(reads right-to-left — click images to enlarge)

DANIELLE: Melinda, you are much more generous about taking the opening premise and early characterization seriously than I am. When I was first introduced to the character I found I neither liked nor disliked Subaru and that in the early volumes both Hokuto and Seishirō behave in fairly cliched, and, to me, rather annoying ways. Hokuto often feels like the proto-yaoi fangirl (even though we find out about her deeper motivations much later on), while Seishirō plays the not-really-bad-wolf-in-veterinarian’s clothing (only later to be revealed as guilty of much, much worse than being a potential seducer of a 16 year old boy). Subaru is the empty center of the story and he lacks real definition for a very long time.

This all sounds terribly harsh but I firmly believe that all these characterizations are, in fact, carefully orchestrated by CLAMP to give the reader one hell of a payoff later on. And, of course, Subaru grows tremendously as a character over the course of the series. He starts of as a bit of a cipher (personality wise) and eventually develops real flaws, character traits, and deeper emotions.

MICHELLE: There’s definitely a sense of being lulled into a false sense of security. “Oh, nothing to see here. Just some disposable supernatural monster-of-the-week stories plus some fashion-conscious twin and a lot of BL teasing that results in Subaru taking pratfalls every three pages!” But we later learn that, with the exception of Subaru, everyone secretly had an agenda for acting the way they did, which is just marvelous.

MELINDA: I think why I’m so generous about this (to use Danielle’s words) is because my re-read convinced me that it was all incredibly brilliant, and it also helped me notice a lot of nuance that wasn’t apparent to me the first time around. I’m especially impressed with the way CLAMP handles Subaru.

One personal philosophy that is stated over and over again in this series (expressed by both Subaru and Hokuto at various times) is that no person can ever truly understand another person’s pain. Most often this idea is used to explain a lack of judgement made regarding other people’s choices and decisions and a respect for their uniquely painful circumstances. But while this philosophy seems on the surface to be a grand acknowledgement of individuality, Subaru takes it so much to heart that he not only refuses to make his mark on anyone else, he also resists becoming a fully realized individual himself, as though even that might be an affront to others. He lets other people dictate his movements, his feelings, his personal appearance—he is deliberately a non-entity. And while someone else as spiritually powerful as he is might do these things deliberately to facilitate deception, Subaru does this to avoid being an influence on anyone else. Once I realized that this was what he was doing, I could see it everywhere—along with Hokuto’s need to find a way to get him to rebel against it, even if it meant becoming involved with someone dangerous.

(reads right-to-left — click images to enlarge)

I’ll be honest—on this re-read I was kind of blown away by how carefully CLAMP crafted these characters, especially Subaru.

DANIELLE: I very much agree with your take on Subaru’s characterization with one important exception — I don’t think Subaru consciously understands a lot of his own choices and behaviors (in other words, I think CLAMP is being deliberate in their writing choices, rather than the character consciously making the choice to become a non-entity). Otherwise, I don’t think he would have such a shocking sense of emptiness, terror and guilt in the aftermath of Seishirō sacrificing his eye to save Subaru’s life. In those moments you can see him gradually awakening, with some desperate prodding by Hokuto, to his true self. Eventually he reaches the point where it all boils over and he basically realizes, “yes, I not only love Seishirō, but I’m also *in love* with him” (I’m just paraphrasing here). That’s the moment he reaches person-hood and it’s in that moment, of course, CLAMP tears it all down by having Seishirō reveal himself. God, it’s just so brutal.

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MICHELLE: Yeah, I do think it’s so deeply ingrained in him he doesn’t know he’s doing it. When one of his jobs takes him to the home of a former classmate who’s spent four months asleep to avoid a traumatic reality, we see a flashback to a very young Subaru taking the delinquents’ kicks originally meant for a stray dog. He’s perfectly willing to take on consequences himself if it means protecting someone or something else, but he’s horrified that someone would do something similar for him.

MELINDA: Perhaps I should have chosen my words more carefully, because the truth is, I agree! When I say he’s “deliberately” doing this, I don’t necessarily mean that he’s completely aware of why or even always when he is refusing to assert himself as an individual. But I still think that kind of behavior is deliberate. Somewhere inside him, Subaru has determined that he should not put himself forward in a way that impacts anyone else—maybe it’s a reaction to the amount of power he knows he possesses, or to being given such a heavy role in the world at so young an age, or something completely different—but even if he’s not aware of all the steps between that determination and the actions he takes every day, I feel that’s still a real choice.

Michelle, I’m reminded too of the scene in which Subaru is trying to help a group of girls who have been practicing amateur dark magic over a party line. This scene hit me especially hard after the fact because of Seishirō’s interference, which at the time feels like absolutely the correct reaction. As Subaru is voluntarily taking all sorts of damage in order to avoid hurting the girls, I found myself somehow on Seishirō’s side, unwilling to accept Subaru’s selflessness when it meant he’d be sacrificing himself to atone for someone else’s horrible mistakes. But of course, Seishirō’s motivations are entirely sinister, while Subaru’s alone are pure. The way that CLAMP stealthily aligns the reader’s sympathies with something that is ultimately evil in a scene like this is also part of what makes later events feel so brutal.

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This is also part of what makes Hokuto’s journey so moving and tragic, since we essentially find ourselves mirroring her own concerns for Subaru (or at least, I do), but unlike a lot of supporting female characters in manga featuring a male protagonist, she doesn’t only exist in the story for his sake. One of my favorite chapters in the entire series is one in which we get to see Hokuto’s life outside of Subaru’s (yes, she actually has one). In this chapter, Hokuto helps a young foreign woman escape from police, and in pretty spectacular fashion, too. Here, Hokuto—who is otherwise shown mostly in her role as Subaru’s caretaker and personal fashion designer—is a bona fide hero herself, showing up exactly when she’s needed to kick some serious ass. It’s the only chapter in which she appears on her own like this and I wish there were more, though I do appreciate the fact that later in the series when she’s headed out on a “date,” it’s implied that she’s meeting up with the woman she befriended at that time.

By about halfway through the series, I found I absolutely adored Hokuto—which of course made her end especially horrifying. What are your thoughts on her?

DANIELLE: Even though Hokuto has tried to distinguish herself from her brother—and to help give him the tools to do the same—I still feel like half of Subaru dies with Hokuto in the end. And I hate this feeling, because it goes against what the character herself says she stood for (i.e. that even though they are brother and sister, and twins, they are *not* the same person). On the other hand, I feel as though my inability to see her as separate from Subaru is also a consequence of that character failing to follow her own instructions. She gets so caught up in trying to give Subaru his own identity, I think she sacrifices parts of her own identity—not merely her own life—on his behalf.

(reads right-to-left — click images to enlarge)

MICHELLE: I was thinking along similar lines, actually. If one person is allowing their identity to be largely defined by another, that means there exists someone whose purpose it is to try to shape that person into what/who they think they should be. Which ultimately means Hokuto is a fairly selfless person, too.

Perhaps that’s why I so dearly loved the chapter where we see Hokuto help the foreign woman, because she suddenly comes so vibrantly and independently alive. I don’t think we even knew she had powers of her own up until that point—possibly because they are so modest that they wouldn’t be of help to Subaru on the job—but she is such a pure heroine in the other lady’s eyes that I wish we got to spend more time with her, to see how she truly sees the world when she’s not so desperately trying to save her brother.

MELINDA: You’re both brilliant, and (of course) right. And maybe what you’re getting at is something beyond either of the philosophies stated by Hokuto and/or Subaru over the course of the series. Perhaps both of their ideas are too simple to be useful.

While Hokuto is desperately trying to carve out identities for both herself and her brother as individuals and Subaru is desperately trying to have no identity at all, the truth is, they are both separable and inseparable at the same time. While they clearly are and must be individuals, they also can’t help being two parts of a single unit, and trying to define themselves entirely as either one or the other is simply not possible, or even desirable.

Is it wrong that they should need each other? I don’t think so. Nor is it wrong for them to be considerate to each other as individuals (this speech of Hokuto’s is one of my favorite things in the series, by the way). And in the end, the loss of either of them is inevitably devastating to the other. It would have to be. And even though I hate seeing what happened to Subaru over the loss of Hokuto (or contemplating the state Hokuto would have been in, had it ended up the other way around), I guess I can’t really wish for them to have been less important to each other. Can you?

(reads right-to-left — click images to enlarge)

DANIELLE: And forgive the irreverence of the following comment, but what the hell are two 16 year olds doing with such trenchant life philosophies anyway? Oh, CLAMP. Even though Subaru looks like a teenager, he and Hokuto never really get to act like they are one (compared to say, Watanuki, who gets to throw tantrums, complain constantly, hold irrational grudges, and generally act like a pain in the ass. Every inch of him a teenager most of the time). Even when Hokuto’s doing silly things in a silly way for a very silly reason, there’s such an element of *seriousness* to it all. It kind of breaks my heart all over again.

MICHELLE: One wonders how much of a childhood they were actually able to have, with their parents gone and such heavy responsibility thrust upon Subaru so young.

It’s such a sad life for him, and one that doesn’t get any better. I’m not sure how much either of you have read or seen of X. I’ve seen the anime, but read only the first volume of the manga, and I’m not sure Melinda’s done either, or if she’s investigated to see what eventually becomes of Subaru.

MELINDA: I have read all of X/1999 (and didn’t care for it much, though I’m trying to let the new omnibus releases convince me that there’s more to it than just waiting for Subaru to show up), so I do know what becomes of Subaru, and you’re right, it really it does not get any better for him. There is more hope for alternate-universe vampire!Subaru in Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle (he at least gets to have a twin again), though of course that isn’t quite the same. I guess that’s an advantage to being a CLAMP character, though… you do get second chances, one way or another.

I actually wanted to talk a bit about both these characters in other CLAMP universes and also what traits Tokyo Babylon does and doesn’t share with other CLAMP series. While reading Cardcaptor Sakura alongside Tokyo Babylon for the purposes of the feast, I was struck by one of the funnier philosophies they share—that designing and creating outfits for someone might be the ultimate gesture of love. Comments?

DANIELLE: In spite of the fact this series is a prequel to X/1999 (and a kind of dress rehearsal for the relationship between Kamui and Fūma in that series) in my mind I connect it to xxxHolic more than CCS, Tsubasa or X/1999. But I think that’s an artistic link, rather than a character or thematic one, that’s going on in my head. Thinking it over, I feel like X/1999 is the sprawling, epically messy unleashing of the very carefully designed plot of Tokyo Babylon. The story is, in fact, so fantastically messy the damn thing — for whatever reason — can’t even be finished. I get the feeling I might be the only one here who is rather fond of X/1999 (or the anime X) but it’s a fondness that comes from appreciating how imperfect it is as a sequel and as a narrative work. In contrast, you could never use such a mild word as “fond” to describe how I feel about Tsubasa or xxxHolic (although for very different reasons).

I really like Melinda’s point, though….providing a friend or family member with a costume change is the ultimate act of love in the CLAMP universe! :-)

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MICHELLE: I’m not anti-X, but I feel oddly disconnected from it.

And yes, I am sure Hokuto and Tomoyo would get along fabulously. Hokuto could be a kind of mentor to her… it’d be great!

Of course, another theme that begins (I think) in Tokyo Babylon and proceeds to permeate CLAMP’s other works is the idea of “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.” Seishirō loses his eye to protect Subaru, and then suddenly eyes are lost or swapping all over the place. It’s become such a CLAMP trademark that it’s actually a cliché now, sort of how people just stopped being surprised when Joss Whedon kills a character.

MELINDA: I admit I like the eye exchange in xxxHolic the best, but maybe that’s just because it was my first. Heh.

There are a lot of themes that run through CLAMP’s work as a whole, both visually and otherwise. One of the things I’m struck by with Tokyo Babylon, however, is how little it resembles its sequel, in every way, really. Danielle has already touched on this, in terms of structure and plot, but visually, too, they couldn’t be more different.

DANIELLE: Agreed. The reason I also think of X/1999 as messy is because it actually looks quite messy in comparison to the crisp, clear art of Tokyo Babylon. I absolutely love the art in Tokyo Babylon, it remains second only to xxxHolic in my own personal ranking of CLAMP styles. I think X/1999 pretty much begat Tsubasa, and my god does the art in that series drive me up the wall.

MICHELLE: I think “messy” is a great way to describe X, but for me it feels that way largely because of its huge cast, compared to the extremely intimate trio in Tokyo Babylon. Granted, I’ve not read the majority of the manga, but from what I’ve seen it looks like there’s just not time to get to know and care about everybody, there’s just so many people and so much going on in the scenes that the visuals can’t help but be all crowded and hectic. There’s no time for atmosphere, which Tokyo Babylon possesses in abundance.

I actually got used to the art in Tsubasa after a while—well, more or less—but the in-your-face gangliness of the character designs is not something I’ll ever be a fan of.

MELINDA: I think I may love the artwork in Tokyo Babylon even more than xxxHolic, but if so, it’s not by much. Both series are striking in their elegant storytelling, their stunning use of black, and a sort of woodblock sensibility that makes them feel somehow timeless. Even Tokyo Babylon‘s unapologetic 80s fashion sense manages to come off as elegant in CLAMP’s hands. xxxHolic also resembles Tokyo Babylon in its intimacy. Even though there are a greater number of vital characters, and obviously the story is much longer and wider in scope, the main setting of Yūko’s shop creates the same kind of private world Tokyo Babylon‘s characters live in.

DANIELLE: Honestly, Melinda sums up the ties I see between these series so beautifully I don’t have too much to add. I would just say if Yūko’s shop is is the centerpiece of xxxHolic, then Tokyo itself is basically the fourth character in Tokyo Babylon. Before the series gets almost claustrophobic in its tight focus on Subaru and Seishirō’s relationship, there’s a lot of pontificating in the omniscient narration about Tokyo as a kind of mirror of the human condition. It’s totally overblown and hokey, but that’s CLAMP. And I’m okay with it.

MICHELLE: That’s a great point, and you’re absolutely right. And a lot of the woes leading to the supernatural crises that Subaru is called upon to solve have something to do with Tokyo, from celebrities seducing pure-hearted girls to thugs running rampant in an apartment block, leading the residents to gossip about their misdeeds. It’s almost as if Subaru is having to clean up Tokyo’s messes.

I agree that visually (or perhaps the word I’m really looking for is stylistically), xxxHOLiC is probably the most similar to Tokyo Babylon of all CLAMP’s works. It feels like they really exhibited some restraint with these series. They didn’t go overboard with swirls and feathers and putting wings on everything, but kept things kind of understated and gloomy.

(reads right-to-left — click images to enlarge)

MELINDA: I certainly agree, Danielle, that CLAMP’s Tokyo parables are pretty hokey, though what makes it all worthwhile for me is the payoff in the final volume, where Seishirō mocks Subaru’s agony over his betrayal by saying, “Things like this happen in Tokyo every day.” With that one sentence, Seishirō manages to belittle not only Subaru’s feelings in the moment, but also basically every single time the two of them had ever talked about the city as they worked to help its many lost souls. It’s so cruel, but wow does he hit that on the nose. I’m not sure it would have had the same impact without the overblown narrative in those early volumes.

Another connection this series has with xxxHolic is the primary message being aimed at its protagonist by those who love him—Hokuto and (interestingly) Seishirō in the case of Tokyo Babylon and Yūko and Dōmeki in xxxHolic—that lesson being that it’s ultimately selfish and perhaps even hurtful to devalue and thoughtlessly sacrifice oneself for the sake of others. Ironically, it’s Seishirō who says this outright in Tokyo Babylon, after sacrificing his eye to save Subaru (whom he actually does not love at all), and given that irony, perhaps it’s fitting and meaningful somehow that, unlike Watanuki, Subaru never really gets the message.

DANIELLE: I must pause here to mention that Watanuki is my favorite CLAMP character of all time. Dōmeki is probably my second favorite.

Okay, here’s a question that’s been on my mind—do we really think Seishirō does not care for Subaru at all? And by “care” I mean have some interest in Subaru in his own evil, twisted fashion and not…you know. Anything resembling traditional human affection. Why in the world would he go so far in order to keep his original “bet” (that, honestly, he made with himself, not even with Subaru). Or am I letting knowledge of X/1999 cloud my reading of the prequel?

MICHELLE: “Care” has so many connotations of loving kindness, that it’s hard for me to even use the word in this context. I think Seishirō delights in tormenting Subaru, and that Subaru is his favorite plaything. So he’s not utterly unconcerned with him, by any stretch of the imagination. It still really bothers me that we don’t learn what he said to Subaru in X, and I’m not sure CLAMP ever intended to tell us, even before the series went on hiatus.

MELINDA: I think that’s a really fair question, Danielle, and seriously I just don’t even know. I don’t know how much we can trust everything that Seishirō says to Subaru at the end of the series. He claims to feel nothing at all for Subaru and to perceive no difference between him and a common household object, but then you’re right… what the hell? Why bother with the “bet” in the first place? Why didn’t he just kill Subaru the first time they met? And even if you (or we) are letting our knowledge of X get into the middle of this, I think that’s fair, since it is a canon continuation of this storyline.

I feel like… he’s lying. Or perhaps he doesn’t even quite realize that he’s lying, since he’s completely inexperienced when it comes to human emotion.

Also, I agree, Michelle. I really wish we knew what he said to Subaru at the end of their arc in X. It will haunt me forever, as these things do.

DANIELLE: CLAMP really loves to play with shadow selves and mirroring and Tokyo Bablyon is just *bursting* with mirroring imagery, particularly with Seishirō. Everything about his representation points to the existence of the dark identity he’s skillfully hiding (i.e. part of the foreshadowing we discussed earlier). But we never get a hint that the surface self he presents is bleeding into the hidden self. I think I would understand that character a bit more if we saw any tension or conflict in how he perceives and understands his own actions. But we never see that happen. At least in this series.

MICHELLE: Oh, now you’re making me think of a character in Cardcaptor Sakura, but I’m not sure how much I should say without knowing where certain reveals transpire or where Melinda is with the series!

MELINDA: I’ve read all of Cardcaptor Sakura, so you’re good to go.

MICHELLE: Oh, good! I was going to mention the dual identities of Yukito and Yue. Granted, Yue is not evil, but he is rather cold and unemotive, but has been hiding himself in the body of open and friendly Yukito for so long that some of Yukito’s feelings have begun to rub off on him, particularly as regards Tōya. And that’s something that doesn’t seem to have happened with Seishirō, who is able to just manipulate the Sumeragi twins without apparent qualm.

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MELINDA: I was thinking about that, too, Michelle, even though Yukito/Yue is such a drastically different character than Seishirō. I have to admit, the way that character is handled is so much more in line with what I expect from a shoujo manga than what CLAMP does with Seishirō.

You know, Danielle, I actually think what you just said about Seishirō is one of the reasons Tokyo Babylon was so surprising to me the first time I read it. I was relatively new to reading manga at the time, and I’d read a lot of shounen manga and a lot of fairly uplifting shoujo, and one of the things that nearly always happens in those series, is that characters we initially perceive as villains will turn around and become very sympathetic characters, by way of backstory or some other kind of revelation later on. The message driven home by that trope is that understanding is the key to learning to love someone, or perhaps that anyone can be granted salvation (of a sort) by way of understanding. These series are careful to always give us something to latch on to—to help us understand even the most seemingly depraved characters before the end.

Tokyo Babylon rips that trope to shreds by giving us nothing of the sort. Not only does the series end with unrepentant tragedy and despair, but there’s absolutely no sense that we should understand why it had to happen. There’s no redemption for Seishirō, because there’s not even the slightest hint of humanity for which we might feel sympathy. Seishirō’s motivations are inscrutable, he makes horrible things happen, and there is no understanding it (nor certainly any fixing it). The message of Tokyo Babylon is that sometimes people are just horrible, goodness does not always win, and our weaknesses may very well be exploited without any chance at all for us to learn from them. It’s a bleak, bleak message that I never expected to find in a shoujo manga series, and it left me absolutely wrecked as I finished it.

Of course, this was also kind of awesome.

So, I’ve talked a little here about my own personal response to Tokyo Babylon. I think you both know me well enough by now to know that it’s important to me to feel emotionally affected by a story, and I’m sure my strong emotional response to this series has a lot to do with why it’s such a favorite. Though it’s interesting to note that unlike so many favorite stories of mine, there isn’t a character I personally identify very deeply with—unlike, say, NANA, where I do find exactly that kind of touchstone in Nana Komatsu. I think I’m a more emotionally-driven reader than most, however, so I’d be curious to know what your own connections are with this series.

DANIELLE: I think my connection to this series is almost completely on the level of “that shit is entertaining.” Yes, I’m moved by what happens to Subaru and Hokuto but there’s also this *thrill* of reading a story where the creators aren’t afraid to just go for it. Melinda, you’ve beautifully analyzed your expectations versus experience of the work, but man. All I can say is, that was a really *good time*—that reading this story was, in its own way, *fun.* The older I get the more I realize how rare it is to be able to say that about a piece of popular entertainment. Too often we see the flaws and the cracks and all the random authorship-by-committee stuff that gets thrown into mass culture to make it palatable for too large an audience.

Here all I see is CLAMP pulling a ripcord I didn’t even realize was there. So, yeah…I second Melinda: It *is* kind of awesome.

MICHELLE: I feel similarly, Danielle, though for me there’s also a very powerful undercurrent of nostalgia, as Tokyo Babylon was one of the first manga series I ever heard about, and the first I was so excited to read that I bought the complete set in Japanese and scoured the internet for text translations.

But when I consider my response to the story itself, one of the things I’m most struck by is CLAMP’s chutzpah. I frequently wish that creators would be brave enough to go for the sad ending. It seems to me this doesn’t happen much anymore. Could this possibly be some Western influence creeping in? Now, granted, I’m not basing this on scholarly research or anything, but it seems to me that sad endings were more common in the past. Now even CLAMP seems to shy away from them—please note I say this without having read the endings of Tsubasa and xxxHOLiC, so please don’t spoil me!—if the way they handled Kobato. is any indication. There was the potential there for a bittersweet ending that would retroactively have cast the entire series in a more positive light for me, but they didn’t commit to it.

So while I lament that there aren’t more of these wonderfully, awesomely sad shoujo classics, I am very grateful for the perfect examples of same that do exist. (Aside from Tokyo Babylon, I am counting Banana Fish among them.)

MELINDA: You’ve rounded things out so nicely here, both of you. Thank you! And many thanks to you both as well for indulging my desire to dwell on this dark little series that has been such an enduring favorite of mine.

As we wrap things up, I’d like to make make one very heartfelt plea: We know that Dark Horse has acquired the license to reprint Tokyo Babylon in omnibus format, though the timeline has stretched quite a ways beyond what was originally reported. We know these releases take time and work, but… might it be soon? Pretty please?

It’ll be so lovely, won’t it?

MICHELLE: Very lovely indeed.

To submit your contributions to the CLAMP MMF for inclusion in this month’s archive, please send your links by email to melinda@mangabookshelf.com or via Twitter to @mbeasi. If you would like your contribution(s) to be hosted at Manga Bookshelf, please email them to Melinda, along with any included images.

Off the Shelf: Communicable Crankiness

July 14, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?

MELINDA: Um. A carrot?

MICHELLE: Um, yeah. That’s it.

MELINDA. Well, huh. Uh. Read any good manga this week?

MICHELLE: I did! I spent the week conducting a massive catchup marathon of Natsume’s Book of Friends, and while I now lament that it took me so long to really immerse myself in the gentle beauty of this fantastic series, it was nonetheless a lovely experience to luxuriate in a dozen volumes!

The twelfth volume came out earlier this month and features mostly episodic stories, though not without personal consequence for Takashi Natsume, a lonely teenage boy with the ability to see yokai. First, he helps a yokai read an old, damaged letter from a human. Next, there’s a story about an old lady yokai who thought Natsume’s grandmother (who bound yokai to her by writing their names in the Book of Friends) was a yokai. And then Natsume gets captured in a jar and taken off as tribute to a newly awakened god, whereupon his friend Tanuma (possessed of a very limited supernatural sensitivity) steps up to attempt to rescue him.

I really loved getting to see Tanuma in action in this volume, and though everyone will probably roll their eyes when I say this… I could help but notice the Buffy parallels! You’ve got a teenager with a powerful supernatural ability that he’s not supposed to tell anyone about—and who is worried that knowledge of this information will put the people that he cares about in harm’s way—who has managed to make a couple of friends and struggles with how much to tell them, how much to let them be involved, and guilt when they end up getting hurt while trying to help. It’s unusual for someone with this gift/curse to maintain such friendships, but Natsume is determined to try.

And, of course, the episodic tales themselves are often quite nice—I love that Natsume is unable to ignore anyone in need of help, including yokai—and I positively adore Nyanko-sensei, the powerful yokai who acts as Natsume’s bodyguard. He took up this role because Natsume promised he could have the book if Natsume died, but it’s obvious that Nyanko really cares for him. It reminds me of Wesley and the Dread Pirate Roberts in Princess Bride, where Roberts adheres to the formula of threatening to kill Wesley, but he never really does because he’s grown fond of him. Nyanko-sensei protests too much that he’s only there to inherit the book, methinks.

To sum up, I have now been converted into a major Natsume fangirl.

MELINDA: Oh, I’m so glad you’ve become a fan! I’m actually several volumes behind in this series now, but it’s long been a favorite, for many of the same reasons you mention here. I’m especially anxious to read that story involving Tanuma.

Also, I too am exceedingly fond of Nyanko-sensei. It doesn’t hurt that he usually looks like a really cranky cat.

MICHELLE: I like it best when he actually acts like a cat, like getting distracted by butterflies, etc. There’s a really cute random illustration in this volume where Midorikawa-sensei has depicted him sleeping atop a wall with several other feline companions. It’s very cute.

Anyway! What’ve you been reading this week?

MELINDA: Well, I may not be a cat, but I’m definitely feeling cranky.

My first read this week was the penultimate volume of La Corda d’Oro, Yuki Kure’s manga adaptation of the romantic video game of the same name. I’ve generally been a fan of this sweet little reverse-harem series, even with its blatantly ridiculous ideas about classical music (particularly violin repertoire) and its thin, supernatural plot. Most of the characters are genuinely likable, and even when they fall into very standard types (which most of them do), they’re quite fun.

In volume fifteen, emotionally stiff violinist Len finally came to terms with his feelings for the series’ heroine, Kahoko—a surprise to no one, as it’s been obvious for a while which boy in this harem was likely to get the girl. In the latest volume (sixteen), Kahoko begins to finally recognize her feelings for Len, and while this is no surprise, either, its consequences managed to make me actually angry with this series for the first time ever.

Having determined not to tell Kahoko that he would be leaving the country on the very same day she is to play in an important music competition (relationship decisions have never been his strong suit), Len unfathomably blurts out the news on the evening just before Kahoko’s performance, sending her into a loop of anxiety and confusion at the moment she needs it least. What pushes me over the edge, however, is Kahoko’s near-sabotage of her own performance in favor of wallowing in emotional turmoil, which plays just about as wrong with me as it possibly could. For while I realize that the story of a teenager prioritizing her feelings for a boy over a personal dream she’s worked her ass off to achieve is probably more realistic than most of us would like to acknowledge, I think it may have finally eclipsed my tolerance for the series’ lack of devotion to its subject.

Of course, I also realize that the problem may be mine, as perhaps it’s been quite clear all along that the story’s real subject is Kahoko’s romantic dreams rather than her musical aspirations, but it still kinda pissed me off.

Scold me if you must.

MICHELLE: Oh, that would piss me off, too! I will say, though, that this series is definitely capable of provoking some strong emotions in you: here you’re angry, but I remember an earlier plot revelation that actually made you cry.

MELINDA: *sigh* It’s true. I’m really a sucker for this kind of series, overall. I suspect I won’t be able to resist the final volume, even after this.

So, our final selection for the week is something we both read. Would you like to introduce it?

MICHELLE: Alrighty.

From the creator of Clean Freak, Fully Equipped (long-time readers might recall I talked about this series in the past) comes Jiu Jiu, an extremely generic and unfunny tale of a misanthropic demon hunter named Takamichi who has some angst that results in her ignoring the two half-human half-demon wolfish pups that have been placed in her charge until they turn three, whereupon they proceed to enroll in her high school and sleep nude in her bed.

Over and over again, she leaves them behind for some reason, they whine, she realizes they care about her, or only want to protect her, or something like that. It’s all incredibly disjointed with disorienting shifts in time, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why a hot mess like this gets licensed but 7SEEDS does not.

Sheesh, now I’m cranky!

MELINDA: Wow. So succinct. And so true, sad to say.

While I’d say my reaction against Jiu Jiu wasn’t quite so violently negative, it certainly was not good. Jiu Jiu does have a few strong points—or at least potential strong points not yet fully realized. Though Takamichi is irritatingly hung up on the notion that she must protect herself by not caring for anybody (is anyone else as tired of that song as I am?), she’s potentially a kick-ass heroine with a fairly kick-ass job. And while I could go the rest of my life without reading yet another introduction of her wolfy companions, Night and Snow (this series really suffers from exposition repetition), the artist does an eerily fantastic job of drawing teenaged boys who actually look and act like dogs. Seriously, it’s kind of impressive.

Trouble is, none of the series’ potential strong points have been actualized fully enough to make up for the fact that so far the story seems to have no direction whatsoever, unless you count the rather disturbing possibility that Takamichi’s increasingly, uh… horny pups may eventually molest her in her bed.

MICHELLE: Exactly. And you’re right, their more canine moments are the best in the volume. I despair, though, that a character who has explicitly stated he passed the high school entrance exams then proceeds to mistake a bra for a pair of glasses. High-larious.

Takamichi herself is not particularly likeable, and I don’t like the art, either. In fact, one particularly ridiculous pose (page 59) made me laugh and say aloud, “Oh my God, what?!” These factors together make it extremely difficult to hope that it will improve in future volumes.

MELINDA: Ha! I laughed at the very same pose!

There are some (again) potentially interesting musings here and there about the nature of Takamichi’s job and her feelings about her young protectors becoming killers, but these are too brief to make an impact. Probably the one thing that got me through it all was the cuteness of puppy!Night writing in his diary. Ultimately, though? Not cute enough.

MICHELLE: I’m afraid I must conCUR. Harhar.

MELINDA: And on that note… better luck next time? Let’s hope so.

Off the Shelf: Gods, Wine, & Time

July 5, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith Leave a Comment

MELINDA: I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date.

MICHELLE: I wonder if I could take this as a hint that you’ve finally read something I’ve been wanting you to read?

MELINDA: Hmmmm, I suspect the answer to that is “no.” I’m pretty sure I first encountered this as a small child, in Alice in Wonderland. And then a little later on a Barbra Streisand album.

MICHELLE: Oh, darn. I was hoping you’d read some of Alice in the Country of Hearts! Oh well. What did you read?

MELINDA: Well, my first read this week was Aki’s Olympos, a new josei single-volume omnibus release from Yen Press.

Olympos tells the story of Ganymede of Troy, said to have been abducted by Zeus and brought to serve him at Mount Olympus. In Aki’s adaptation, it is actually Zeus’s son Apollo who abducts Ganymede and holds him in the “miniature garden,” a prison filled with white flower petals as immortal as the gods themselves. Rather than occupying a position of honor as cupbearer to the gods as in the original myths, Aki’s Ganymede is relentlessly tortured by Apollo, who presses upon him the bleakness of his new immortality and takes pleasure in his futile attempts to escape. This torture is later escalated by Hades, who informs Ganymede that his only chance for relief would be for him to go mad, which would release him from Zeus’ celestial realm and into the dark of the underworld. Meanwhile, an eerily monstrous specter of Zeus hovers menacingly around the garden, infatuated with its human prisoner.

I’ve painted a pretty grim picture, I know, so you may be surprised to hear that Olympos is actually a fairly quiet, philosophical manga, meandering through its 300+ pages with musings on the nature of truth and immortality, and the impossibility of understanding between humans and gods. Unfortunately, “meandering” is a key word here. Despite a strong beginning, featuring a newly captured human (Heinz), charged by Apollo with the daunting task of convincing Ganymede—after years of Apollo’s goading—that escape from the garden is possible after all, the series soon loses focus, devolving into a kind of distractedly philosophical pudding that never quite gels.

That said, there’s a lot worth fishing out of this mythological goo if one has the will to do so, and I admit to enjoying quite a bit of it. Apollo’s journey is interesting in particular, as he comes to the realization that speaking the truth and knowing the truth are not necessarily the same things. Ganymede’s character, too, has a lot to offer, as he slowly comes to terms with his fate. Ganymede is described by Homer as the most beautiful of mortals, and this aspect of his story is one that Aki truly takes to heart. All of the artwork in Olympos is beautiful, in fact, almost beautiful enough to make up for its structural flaws.

MICHELLE: I have to say, “distractedly philosophical pudding” is a wonderful phrase, and one that could be applied to quite a lot of storytelling, in my experience.

And yes, despite its flaws, Olympos still sounds like something I’m going to want to check out. Especially because it’s josei and we see too little of that here.

MELINDA: I do think you’ll want to check it out. And though I think you’re likely to become frustrated with its lack of coherency at some points, I think you’ll end up enjoying it. I certainly did.

So, what have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: First up for me is volume four of The Drops of God, a seinen series about wine that’s published by Vertical in two-in-one omnibus editions.

This series… how to describe it. My first compulsion is to say “It’s like Oishinbo with wine.” The protagonist, Shizuku Kanzaki, was never a wine fan while his father, a famous wine critic, was alive, but after his death, Shizuku becomes obsessed with learning about the stuff, which is fortunate because the terms of his father’s will require him to compete with a prententious critic (Issei Tomine) to identify a dozen or so wines based on verbal descriptions alone. In between the match-ups with Issei (the second of which closes out this volume), Shizuku and his trusty sidekick Miyabi get up to various things, which usually involve tasting a whole bunch of wine and rhapsodizing about them, sometimes with unintentionally amusing visuals and dialogue.

For instance, in this volume, the wine division of Taiyo Beer has a new client who turns out to be Miyabi’s first love from middle school. He wants to open a grocery store that stocks only name-brand wines, and it’s up to Shizuku and Miyabi to convince him that there are many worthy wines without a prestige name, and so they must search out and find certain ones capable of besting famous wines in a testing. Of course, they succeed, culminating in an absolutely hilarious scene where the first love guy takes a sip and is suddenly riding a pegasus amongst the clouds, taking a little tour of his childhood memories. I admit I laughed out loud.

I don’t mean to suggest that I don’t like The Drops of God, because I do, but it frequently strikes me as ridiculous, even more than your average sports manga (but not more so than the latter volumes of The Prince of Tennis). Perhaps it would help if I had a genuine interest in wine.

I do want to note that this volume has a special message in the back, which I’ll quote here: “The unveiling of the Second Apostle concludes “season one” of the English release. By author request, our next installment jumps ahead in the storyline to a segment on “New World” wines including those in Napa Valley. Tell all your friends about the series so there will be second and third seasons to fill in the gap! We appreciate your support.”

So now I am doing my part by telling all the folks reading Off the Shelf!

MELINDA: Important news indeed, Michelle! I, too, like The Drops of God, probably more than most sports manga, though that may simply be due to the fact that I have much more interest (generally) in wine than sports. I’m behind on this series, but I’m anxious to catch up. It’s just, well, fun. Also, it makes me thirsty.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it does kind of have that effect.

So, the last book that we’re going to discuss is one that we’ve both read, but we’re coming at it from slightly different perspectives. That is, you’ve seen the movie that it’s based on and I haven’t.

MELINDA: Indeed! It’s one of my favorite movies, even.

MICHELLE: What we’re talking about is 5 Centimeters per Second, another two-in-one omnibus from Vertical, though this time collecting the entire series. Do you want to describe the story, or shall I?

MELINDA: I can at least start! Based on the animated feature from writer/director Makoto Shinkai, 5 Centimeters per Second tells the story of a young boy, Takaki Tohno, and Akari Shinohara, the first love he can’t put behind him. He first meets Akari as she transfers into his elementary school in Tokyo. The two bond quickly, partly due to their mutual experience as children whose families move a lot. Mostly, though, they just like each other, so much so that their classmates eventually tease them about being in love. With middle school quickly approaching, they work hard to get into the same junior high, but just like that, Akari’s family is moving again, to Iwafune, quite a distance away.

The two keep in touch by mail, but when Takaki finds out that his family is going to be moving even further away, he decides to visit Akari by train while he still can. Rushing from school to the train, he is delayed several hours by a snowstorm, finally arriving in Iwafune late into the night to find Akari waiting hopefully at the station. This is the last time he will ever meet with her. Time passes, and with only letters and text messages to connect them, Takaki and Akari eventually grow apart. But Takaki’s lingering attachment keeps him from really being able to connect with anyone else.

MICHELLE: (This is spoiler territory here, so be warned.)

I really love how this story plays out because, unfamiliar with the movie, I kept expecting Takaki and Akari to reunite, especially since the opening pages portray them passing each other in the street. But it’s actually much more complicated than that, as the realities of day-to-day adult life have whittled down Takaki’s idealism to the point where he feels he has lost his real self. He never really put forth the effort to contact Akari—another character, Kanae, later shows that one can find someone if one really tries—but yet to move on, to really love someone else would feel like a betrayal. And so he is stuck.

And then at the end, we revisit the moment they glimpse each other, which is portrayed fairly ambiguously from Akari’s point of view. Did she notice him? Did she recognize him? I tend to think she did not, and I love how Takaki smiles at that realization—always kind, he is relieved to see that she’s moved on (did he notice her engagement ring?) and is not encumbered by memories of him as he has been with her. It’s sad, but it’s nice, and I love that it doesn’t go for the expected happy ending.

MELINDA: This kind of inevitable separation—both the pain of it and the cruel ordinariness of it—is a recurring theme in Shinkai’s work (you may remember that the manga adaptation of one of his earliest films, The Voices of a Distant Star, was the first review I wrote for PopCultureShock), and though he’s always explored this theme beautifully, 5 Centimeters per Second is his most poignant attempt, I think, because the barrier between Takaki and Akari is relatively small. They aren’t separated by light years like the characters in Voices. They’re on the same planet—even in the same country. But the reality is, of course, that there is so much more to it than just the distance, and it’s this kind of simple, simple truth that makes Takaki’s plight so sad and so relatable.

MICHELLE: While the title technically refers to the speed at which a cherry blossom petal falls from a tree, it rather elegantly captures the main obstacles facing Takaki and Akari: distance and time. But it’s a fall, and a separation, that feels almost leisurely because it takes place over a long span of time.

MELINDA: Beautifully said, Michelle! One of the interesting things about this adaptation is just how much more leisurely the time does pass. The film is fairly neatly divided into three parts, with the first section (Takaki’s childhood with Akari, up through the point when he visits her in Iwafune) feeling the longest and the most fleshed-out. In this manga series, the second two sections are greatly expanded upon, giving us a much closer look at the stories of both Kanae and Takaki’s later girlfriend, Risa, (who is barely seen in the film), which ultimately teaches us even more about Takaki and the women he’s unintentionally hurt with his kindness over the years. While I do miss the strength of some of the film’s imagery and direction (Takaki’s lonely train ride, for instance, feels absolutely epic in the film, thanks to Shinkai’s brilliant pacing), these additional insights really do add something significant.

MICHELLE: I thought his train ride seemed pretty epic in print, too, especially given the fact that a lot of what happens prior to that is, like, two-page vignettes charting the progress of his growing closeness with Akari, but the train ride was the first time we got a long, tense, interrupted sequence of events.

I did want to ask you… was anything different in the movie? Like, the plot? I’m kind of sad to learn Kanae’s not in it much, since I liked her a great deal, and especially appreciated the little optimistic twist (but yet still ambiguous) thrown our way at the end concerning her future.

MELINDA: Ah, I think I perhaps wasn’t clear. Kanae is in the film quite a bit (the entire second section revolves around her). It’s Risa we barely see. But even so, there isn’t actually any difference in the plot, it’s just that we’re shown much, much more of it in the manga.

MICHELLE: Well, that makes me happy, then!

MELINDA: It makes me happy, too. Good adaptations can be difficult to come by, but this one is quite good indeed.

Off the Shelf: Real

June 27, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 1 Comment

MICHELLE: Good evening and welcome to a special installment of Off the Shelf. You might be aware that I am co-hosting (with Anna from Manga Report, who’s also a contributor to the Bringing the Drama column here at Manga Bookshelf) the Takehiko Inoue Manga Moveable Feast this week! And so, I have enlisted Melinda’s participation so that we might devote this week’s column to Inoue’s seinen series, Real.

Inoue is most famous for Slam Dunk, a thoroughly shounen series about a delinquent who finds his way via basketball, and there are definitely some elements of that in Real. What’s different, however, is that two of the main protagonists are wheelchair-bound and the one able-bodied fellow draws his inspiration from seeing how hard disabled athletes work to achieve their goals.

MELINDA: I’m thrilled to be talking about this series, Michelle. It was my first exposure to Inoue, and my first experience with a manga series about sports that wasn’t created to fit the standard shounen formula.

Should we talk about the main characters a bit?

MICHELLE: Sure! Actually, I think Anna summed up their personalities very well in her review, so I am just going to quote her, if that’s okay!

Real centers on three main protagonists. Tomomi Nomiya is a wanna-be tough guy who is a bit of an outcast at school even though he is on the basketball team. He was involved in a motorcycle accident that paralyzed his passenger, a girl named Natsumi whom he had just picked up randomly. Hisanobu Takahashi is the arrogant new basketball captain who is about to experience something that will change his life forever. Kiyoharu Togawa is an elite athlete who had most of one leg taken off due to a childhood brush with cancer. His driven personality isn’t a good match with the hobbyists on his wheelchair basketball team.

That’s how we find them at the beginning of the series, and as the story progresses, they inspire each other (and others) in seemingly infinite ways while each struggling to find and pursue their own path. Ultimately, for each of them, basketball turns out to be that path, but this is definitely far from being your typical sports manga.

MELINDA: I think “far from being your typical sports manga” is really key here. Even, as you say, when these characters serve as inspiration, there’s no heroic glow carrying the story forward. Their pain and their disappointments are real, and not easily banished by fine speeches or awe-inspiring action scenes. Real is not afraid to get into the real darkness its protagonists fall into at various points in the story, nor does it gloss over their wrongs. Real is unforgiving, much like life.

MICHELLE: The plight of Hisanobu Takahashi, the aforementioned arrogant guy, best illustrates what you’re talking about, I think. Here’s a guy, obsessed with comparing himself to others, who becomes paralyzed as a result of being hit by a truck while fleeing on a stolen bicycle. Inoue relentlessly takes us through his ups and downs, hopes that bubble up and are quickly dashed, and doesn’t try to artificially improve Hisanobu’s attitude overnight. There are encounters that buoy him for a while, a rivalry with Nomiya that motivates him, but he’s in a fragile state and can still be sent spiraling down by the sight of a seeming weakling who is better at physical rehab than he is.

It’s as if Inoue is saying, “You can borrow some strength from others, but in the end, it’s all up to you to follow through.”

MELINDA: Takahashi’s is perhaps the most interesting journey to me, I think because Inoue doesn’t let him off the hook for anything, so when he does achieve small successes, they really feel earned. Though I also like the fact that Nomiya is traveling what could be considered an impossible path (to become a professional player). I admit I’m really anxious to see where that goes in the end.

MICHELLE: Me, too. I desperately hope he is able to make the pro team, and that’s what I’ve been groomed to expect from my years of loving sports manga, but I’m faced with the very real possibility that Inoue will depict him not making it and being shattered by the experience. I really love Nomiya very much, and one of my favorite scenes is where he’s just lost his job after trying so hard at it, and he really needs to see Togawa’s wheelchair basketball team, The Tigers, achieve their dream after putting in so much effort. They don’t, however, and I wonder what sort of blow it’ll be to him if he also fails. I feel as though I’m watching a friend put their everything into something that might not pan out, so I root for them but also I worry.

MELINDA: Of course, that’s part of what makes this series work so well. Both volumes nine and ten acquired some vaguely shounen tendencies, with a lot of (from my review of volume 10) “grand declarations, gritty determination, and talk of achieving one’s dreams,” but even then, there’s no sense that this will necessarily happen.

MICHELLE: But, you know, I still can’t loving those moments. If there is any one drawback to Real, it’s that I kept expecting them to, like, all join the same team and get awesome together and beat their rivals. But it takes until volume ten for Hisanobu to remember his one encounter with Togawa, the basketball badass in a wheelchair, and realize “I could do that.”

Not that I’m complaining, of course, because so much of his journey is learning how to really work for something again, which he hasn’t done since he was a kid, essentially on account of his father abandoning the family.

Y’know… we haven’t seen any of Nomiya’s childhood yet, have we? We’ve seen some of Togawa’s and quite a lot of Hisanobu’s, but none of Nomiya’s. We just hear about his mother bringing back sweets from her various trips.

MELINDA: You know, that’s a good point. It’s been a while since I looked at early volumes, but I don’t recall that we have. Perhaps that’s yet to come.

Actually, I realize now that with volumes 9 and 10 freshest in my mind, I’ve let Togawa go a little bit. With Takahashi’s and Nomiya’s stories really hitting their stride, Togawa’s hasn’t been quite as much front-and-center as of late.

MICHELLE: No, it hasn’t. But it was certainly getting lovely there for a bit, with the introduction of Ryo, a sullen disabled teen, who is inspired by Togawa just as a young Togawa was by Tora, the original founder of the Tigers. And the beauty of it all is that Togawa has no idea that he’s become such a figure for this kid. We’ve heard a lot about the history of the Tigers, how it went from Tora’s era, to Yama’s (a friend of Togawa whose physical condition is deteriorating rapidly), to Togawa’s. I’m sure it’ll be Ryo’s era after that. I delight in seeing this familiar character through fresh eyes, while we’ve become entirely accustomed to his various faults. Inoue sure is adept at introducing new/secondary characters who immediately become integral to the story.

MELINDA: That’s true! I’m currently quite enamored with Hara-sensei, Takahashi’s badass… uh, physical therapist? I guess that’s what she probably she, but without any of the touchy-feely Florence Nighiengale-y images that might normally spring forth.

MICHELLE: I also like his two friends in rehab, who are challenging his notions of ranks and worth. There’s Shiratori, the famous wrestler, who is actually behind where Takahashi is in his recovery, and then there’s Hanamaki, the scrawny otaku, who is farther along than both of them, but who yet is a major Shiratori fanboy. Supporting each of the three protagonists are people who can help them change and find their way, including a couple of intriguing female characters that I wish we got to learn more about.

MELINDA: It’s true, the series’ female characters seem to come and go rather quickly. I’m particularly interested in Azumi, Togawa’s childhood friend who also manages the Tigers. There’s a favorite scene of mine in volume 10, where she must indignantly remind Togawa that she has goals and dreams as well.

MICHELLE: The pair of them actually remind me a little of the main character and his sidekick in Drops of God, but Azumi seems to be more complicated than her counterpart, which I appreciate.

One thing we haven’t yet touched upon is Inoue’s art in Real, which is pretty damned awesome. He excels at both action and expression, but some of my favorite sequences are more fanciful, like when Hisanobu and Nomiya engage in a mutual daydream about what would’ve happened had they been present for their high school team’s final game.

MELINDA: I become impressed all over again by how expressive Inoue’s artwork is with every new volume. The series has a gritty, realistic look to it, but there’s such life on the page! In volume ten, page 148, there’s a tear running down Shiratori’s otherwise mostly covered face, and it’s the most oddly expressive, moving, not even remotely beautiful tear I’ve ever seen. It has none of that graceful mono no aware sensibility that tear-shedding moments so often have. In fact, it could just as easily be a trickle of sweat. But to see it on this huge man’s covered face is just… kind of stunning.

MICHELLE: It’s art that really serves the characters instead of merely being technically proficient. The first few pages of the first volume stunned me, because in that opening sequence you learn practically all you need to know about Togawa. In fact, I plan to discuss them in greater depth in a Let’s Get Visual column this weekend.

Another great thing about Real is that it feels far from over! We’ve talked about Nomiya’s impossible-seeming goal, but Togawa also wants to make it to the Paralympics, so perhaps the series, in sports manga fashion, will end there? I admit that would be very satisfying, but I don’t know that we should expect it.

MELINDA: It’s really impossible to guess! Like you, I’d love to see all three characters achieve their dreams (and in spectacular, shounen-style fashion) but I’m not making any bets!

MICHELLE: Well, volume eleven is due in November, so perhaps there’ll be a little closer to their goals at that point!

MELINDA: I can’t wait!

Reviews of Real at Manga Bookshelf: Real, Vol. 10 (Melinda), Real, Vol. 9 (Melinda), Real, Vols. 1-8 (Melinda), Real, Vols. 1-4 (Kate), Real, Vol. 10 (Kate)

Off the Shelf: Full of surprises

June 14, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 2 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! What does a vegan zombie eat?

MELINDA: I don’t know, Michelle. What *does* a vegan zombie eat?

MICHELLE: Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains!

MELINDA: You know, my husband actually predicted that one just now after I told him. :D

MICHELLE: Good job, hubby!

MELINDA: So, whose turn is it to start this week? Mine? Yours? I’m all turned around.

MICHELLE: I think it’s mine.

So, to start with… I wanted to talk about volumes 40 and 41 of Tite Kubo’s Bleach. You might wonder, “What else is there to say about Bleach at this point?” Well, I suppose what I have to say boils down to, “It’s actually kind of interesting again!”

There were definitely some volumes in this Hueco Mundo arc that were rather dull, but now that it feels we’re actually getting somewhere, I find that I’m pretty entertained. I still don’t care much at all about Ichigo, but I like his companions (Uryu and Orihime, most notably) and several of the Soul Reaper captains, who have also joined in the fighting. Plotwise, it’s your typical shounen fare—wherein people with special powers fight to protect those they care about—but it’s got momentum, it’s got a few themes that remind me of Angel (our friend occasionally becomes a monster but we will bring him back to himself), and it’s got some pretty striking visuals.

I think Tite Kubo must’ve had a lot of fun drawing these chapters, and also was probably in a fairly grisly mood, as the fights are easier to follow than normal and involve an excessive amount of limb loss. It’s shocking each time it happens, but still not quite as gross as what happened to Rangiku a couple of volumes ago thanks to the most genuinely terrifying manga monster critter I’ve ever seen.

Possibly I am not being critical enough. Bleach clearly has a lot of faults, chief among them that this whole Hueco Mundo arc is basically just a retread of the Soul Society arc. But I enjoyed these two volumes and look forward to the next pair, which will be here next month! In fact, we’ll be getting two new volumes of Bleach each month through December, which will bring us up to volume 53, just two behind Japan. A pretty smart move by VIZ, methinks.

MELINDA: Well, and is there really a point to being critical of Bleach anymore? Yes, it’s repetitive, and yes, it stopped having much new to do or say many volumes ago, but there are reasons we keep reading it. I find it interesting that we’re basically reading for the same two characters (Orihime and Uryu) along with some of the other Soul Reapers (I’m partial to Yumichika and Ikkaku, for various reasons), and we cling to these loyalties and to the bits of enjoyable characterization that still crop up from time to time.

MICHELLE: Exactly. I like Yumichika too, incidentally, and was happy to see him and Hisagi again. The fact that they’re both bishounen has a lot to do with that, I must admit.

Anyway, enough fangirling. What have you been reading this sweek?

MELINDA: Well, my first selection for the evening is the debut volume of Attack on Titan by Hajime Isayama, due out in a week or so from Kodansha Comics. I will admit that I had low expectations going into this volume, based mainly on its cover art, of all things. When it arrived, I took it over to my husband, showed it to him, and said, “So does this look like my kind of manga?” He agreed that it decidedly did not, and I really had to force myself to pick it up later to actually read. And I’m glad that I pushed myself to do so, because as it turns out, Attack on Titan is my kind of manga after all.

So, the premise! The world has been overtaken by man-eating giants called Titans, and for the past one hundred years, what is left of the human race has been isolated in a single city, protected from the Titans by a series of three circular walls. The most powerful citizens (including the city’s king) live within the innermost wall, with everyone else spread out in neighborhoods within the more vulnerable outer walls.

As the story opens, the city’s garrison has become complacent, with no real threat coming from the Titans outside, thanks to the city’s very tall walls. Meanwhile, the few humans who venture outside the walls—the “survey corps”—are regularly massacred by the Titans. These people are generally considered to be fools. Why risk their lives, when they’re so safe and comfortable in their self-made prison?

Our hero, a young boy named Eren, dreams of joining the survey corps—an idea his family thoroughly rejects. But it isn’t long before a huge Titan manages to break through the wall, destroying Eren’s family life and leading him towards that dangerous path anyway. I won’t reveal more here, for fear of spoiling you, but suffice it to say that mankind’s one hundred years of relative peace and seclusion are pretty much over.

As I said, I enjoyed this volume, though it does have its weak points. While it seems clear that there are some characters here who will eventually be great, they aren’t great yet, and the opening chapters feel a bit sluggish and shallow because of that. Isayama also has a habit of creating a lot of small, single-face panels (especially when characters are arguing), which diminishes the tension of several scenes and makes them somewhat awkward to read. Furthermore, I found many of the action shots to be difficult to follow.

On the other hand, there’s a lot of really compelling stuff here, and regardless of any issues I might have had, I left the volume feeling anxious for more. Isayama’s world-building is genuinely intriguing, and though the volume ends on a fairly dark note, it plays as exciting rather than simply grim.

MICHELLE: Interesting! It actually kind of reminds me of Battlestar Galactica, in that “we think we’re safe because they haven’t OMG we’re most of us dead now!” kind of way.

MELINDA: That’s a good point! It does have that vibe, though without the spectacular characterization. But I’m hopeful that will develop here, too.

So, what else have you got for us this week?

MICHELLE: Actually, I had a very similar experience with the first volume of Until Death Do Us Part! I didn’t really think it wasn’t my type of manga, but I certainly didn’t know anything about it and was a little dubious about the premise. I admit that I haven’t quite finished the chunky omnibus (comprising the first two volumes of the Japanese release) but it’s very intriguing so far!

The story begins when a blind guy (whom we later learn is named Mamoru), testing out some tech that projections 3D renderings of his surroundings onto his retina, is hailed as a savior by a girl (Haruka) who has been held captive by yakuza types because she possesses precognitive abilities that allow her to win the lottery a bunch of times. Turns out, he’s a swordsman with a special molecule-cutting katana (naturally), and saves her, beats up the yakuza, etc. So far, so standard.

What’s really neat is that this whole time, Mamoru’s communicating with someone back at headquarters, and it turns out the two of them are part of a vigilante group called the “element network.” This group has been put together by the victims of crimes—funded by wealthy ones, supplied with gadgets by scientific ones…—and recruited Mamoru to be its agent. While he’s out and about, they observe his video feed to make sure he stays within crime-hunting parameters.

True, we’ve not learned much about the characters so far, but the premise is nifty enough to sustain me! Plus, I like the art (by DOUBLE-S). It’s not terrifically unique, but the fight scenes are easy to follow (yes, this is another manga with swords and blood and tendon-slicing) and the character designs distinct. I’m looking forward to seeing how this develops.

MELINDA: You know, I’m really glad you brought this book to the table this week, because I kind of had decided that it wasn’t my kind of manga, and you’ve encouraged me to reconsider. That actually sounds like a lot of fun.

MICHELLE: I’m glad you think so! I mean, again, I have no idea where the story is going from here and, like you, have no idea if deeper characterization will emerge, but it’s definitely got potential.

What else have ya got?

MELINDA: Standing in stark contrast against my first title for the evening, this week I also read Norikazu Akira’s Honey Darling from Viz Media’s new BL imprint, SuBLime. I don’t think it would have been possible for me to choose something less like Attack on Titan than Honey Darling, and I’m surprised to have liked them both.

As I mentioned in Monday’s Pick of the Week, as happy as I am to see Viz taking on the BL market, I have to admit that their titles so far have not been at all to my taste. Even the surprisingly delightful Oku-san’s Daily Fantasies is, fundamentally, everything I like least about BL manga (unless you count Love Pistols, which is apparently everything I like even less). So when I was greeted by a cover featuring one angry looking dude alongside a very feminine-looking dude in cat ears, I was not optimistic. I’m not even sure I would have opened the book at all had the cover not also featured an actual (really cute) cat as well.

Nor does this manga have a promising start. Carefree drifter Chihiro, on his way home from his low-pressure job in a casino, finds an abandoned kitten on the street and impulsively takes her home. Of course, he quickly finds himself in over his head as the kitten becomes ill, and he ends up wandering the streets aimlessly, asking strangers for directions to the nearest animal hospital. Fortunately for him, one of these strangers turns out to be Kumazawa, a handsome, broody guy who also happens to be a veterinarian. Kumazawa takes Chihiro and the cat back to his clinic and scolds Chihiro for not being a responsible pet owner, at which point Chihiro starts to cry, leading Kumazawa to suddenly offer him a job… as his “wife.”

As you might imagine, my confidence in Honey Darling plummeted even further at this point. Yet somehow, by the end of the next chapter, I was completely won over.

Though this story strays not even a little bit from standard BL ridiculousness (including all the maddening seme/uke business), it somehow also manages to be really, really charming. Chihiro and Kumazawa’s relationship develops slowly and sweetly, and though everything is just a bit too easy and pat, it’s so warm and dear, it hardly matters. Akira’s characters are a pleasure to get to know, and by the end, I was wishing I could spend yet more time with them. And despite the cat-eared cover, the story’s humor lands just right as well, achieving genuine chuckles without descending into camp.

Honey Darling may not ever become a long-standing favorite, but it was certainly a pleasure.

MICHELLE: That’s good to know! I feel that you’ve encouraged me in kind to try something I might otherwise have been dubious about!

MELINDA: It’s an evening of surprises all around, I guess!

MICHELLE: Perhaps this would be a good time to tell you that I’m really a man.

MELINDA: *faints*

Off the Shelf: In which we grant a request

June 7, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 11 Comments

MELINDA: I’ve just realized how few jokes I know. You always open with a joke. I’ve got nothin’.

MICHELLE: That’s okay. I freely admit that most of mine aren’t very good. And even if you’ve got no jokes, you’ve surely got manga to talk about!

MELINDA: Indeed I do! Should I go first?

MICHELLE Please do!

MELINDA: Well, I know we have a special request to grant at some point here, but before we get to that, my big read for this week was the debut volume of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, adapted from the popular anime series. This is obviously a highly-anticipated release. In a rare twist, I’ve actually seen the anime series, and since I enjoyed it very much, I’d have to admit that this manga series was even highly anticipated by me. Ultimately, I’d say that this is not necessarily in the manga’s favor, though there is a quite a bit here to enjoy.

The series begins just as you’d expect from a magical girl story. Madoka is an ordinary girl with ordinary friends, who is suddenly approached by a talking catlike creature (Sailor Moon shout-out, I assume?) named Kyubey who offers her the opportunity to have a single wish granted if she’ll sign a contract to become a magical girl. This is understandably exciting for Madoka (and her friend, Sayaka, who is also invited), but nothing is quite as it first seems. Madoka’s magical dreams are quickly tempered by the reality of untimely death in a magical girl’s future, as well as by a mysterious new girl, Homura, who for some reason insists that it is of vital importance that Madoka not sign on with Kyubey—to the point that she makes repeated attempts on Kyubey’s life in an effort to save Madoka from him.

Having watched the anime series, there isn’t a lot of mystery in this for me, but even taking that into account, there are ways (mostly visual) in which the manga pales in comparison to its source material. For instance, one of the most spectacular elements of the anime series is the ornate visual fabric of the dimension inhabited by “witches” (the beings our magical girls are being asked to destroy). These encounters with witches are elaborate and rather psychedelic, and they really help to emphasize the series’ darker take on the magical girl formula. In the manga series, these sequences just look kind of drab and lumpy, and they are glossed over so quickly, the sense of real danger and anticipation is lost along with the general aesthetic. Even the fight scenes could really stand to be longer (did I really just say that?), as they seem to lose a lot of their tension and significance.

On the other hand, this story is compelling no matter how it’s told, and if the artist has failed to quite capture its eeriness, its pathos remains intact. I’m happy to see, too, that Madoka’s family life, headed up by her fearless corporate shark of a mom and her homemaker dad, is just as charming here as in the anime series (if granted slightly less screen time).

MICHELLE: This sounds a bit like Bokurano: Ours, in which middle-school-aged kids are duped into a contract that requires them to destroy aliens and die in the process. I do think, though, that you’ve sold me more on the anime here than on the manga.

MELINDA: Well, and perhaps I mean to, though I feel a bit bad about it. I have a lot more stake in the manga industry than I do in anime, yet in this case I can’t deny that the manga suffers in comparison. It is still quite interesting, though, and I’m looking forward to the second volume. It really is a very compelling story, regardless of how it’s being consumed.

One little oddity (and this applies to both mediums)— Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a magical girl series that resembles modern series for a male audience much more than a female one. You can easily identify all the usual suspects: the glasses-wearing girl, the spunky girl with fang teeth, the pretty girl with long, black hair, the self-conscious yuri jokes… you could be watching Lucky Star in that respect. This doesn’t detract from the series at all for me, but it definitely gives the series a bit of a male otaku vibe—at least that’s how it reads to me.

So, what’s next?

MICHELLE: Well, I’ve also read something that’s an adaptation from another medium, though this time it’s from a dating sim for girls!

You may recall that I talked about Alice in the Country of Hearts way back in our second ever Off the Shelf column. There, I initially referred to it as “bishie land” then instantly reconsidered, since the plot focused more on the mystery of the world in which the heroine, Alice, found herself than in her myriad romantic prospects. The series was much better than I expected, and I liked it so much that I sought out the sixth volume in Japanese after TOKYOPOP’s demise meant the series would not conclude in English (though it will be released in its entirety by Yen Press this summer).

Alice in the Country of Clover: Bloody Twins is an adaptation (by a different artist) of another game in the series, and though certain elements are reset, it functions fairly well as a sequel. Alice remains in the world that she believes is a dream and has become fairly comfortable there. Nearly every male resident is interested in her, but her constant companions are twin boys “Dee and Dum,” who constantly proclaim their love for her and who like to a) glomp her all the time and b) kill people. A shift in the dream environment moves everyone to the land of Clover, where the twins gain the ability to turn into grown men, whereupon they act the same as ever, causing Alice to get flustered and blush a lot.

This is another case of a series suffering in comparison to something else. Where Alice in the Country of Hearts surpassed my expectations for a manga adapted from a dating sim, Alice in the Country of Clover meets them fairly exactly. There is no focus on the mystery of the world at all. Instead, this reads entirely like a “what if” scenario: what if Alice fell in love with the twins? She’s still a reasonably likeable character, rather embarrassed that she’d dream up such a scenario, but Dee and Dum are so empty as people that it’s disturbing that she’s not disturbed by them. It’s utterly impossible for me to root for this romance, but perhaps I was never intended to, as the short stories rounding out the volume explore different “what if” pairings for Alice.

That said, Alice in the Country of Clover isn’t outright bad. I definitely smiled a few times at the humor, and can see myself checking out the next Clover installment, Cheshire Cat Waltz, which Seven Seas is publishing next month.

MELINDA: I suppose my feeling here is that you’ve perhaps sold me on Alice in the Country of Hearts rather than on this sequel, which sounds… not bad, but probably not worth prioritizing over better manga.

MICHELLE: And, like you, perhaps I meant to, but I feel bad about it! I definitely hope that people support Seven Seas by checking out the Clover titles.

And now… the special request. A few weeks ago, you reviewed the tenth volume of Pandora Hearts in our Bookshelf Briefs column, and we received a comment from Releona, who said she’d like to see it featured in an Off the Shelf column, as she was interested in our thoughts on it in greater detail.

Your wish is our command, Releona!

MELINDA: Since I’ve already done a review of sorts, would you like to get us up to speed on the series’ plot at this point?

MICHELLE: I’ll take a shot at it, though Pandora Hearts is one of those series that makes sense in the short-term but is not exactly clear in terms of its long-term plot trajectory.

Oz decides that the best bet for restoring Alice’s lost memories would be to visit Sablier, scene of a great tragedy a century before. Separated as they approach the epicenter of the disaster, Oz, Alice, and Gilbert see illusions from the past, each of which introduces some intriguing twists to the story, mostly in the form of answers about how the tragedy came to be. All of this is quite interesting, but mangaka Jun Mochizuki is adept at making the story about the characters, so the most compelling aspects are sympathizing with the character who brought about the tragedy as well as watching Gilbert angst oh-so-prettily about his memories and the possibility of being driven mad by them.

Probably I could read a manga that was all about Gilbert angsting prettily, but it sure was nice to get a little more shape to the story at this point.

MELINDA: Most readers by now have probably figured out that I’m a big fan of this series, and given that I’ve gone on in rapturous delight about its costuming, it’s probably a given that I’d happily read a whole manga about a prettily angsting Gilbert as well. But I certainly agree that this volume was a balm for the muddled brain. Not only was it a relief to understand Gil’s full history at last, but it also helped me to despise another character much, much less. And really, I wouldn’t have thought that could happen. Though probably I now hate Glen Baskerville much, much more.

Also, though Alice takes a back seat in this volume, the scene in which she confuses a kiss with a bite on the cheek is one of her most charming moments.

MICHELLE: It was, though I was startled to see how very obnoxious she was in the past. She may actually be a better person without her memories, which I’m sure is Mochizuki’s intent. Speaking of nice moments, I was also very happy that Oz actually feeling free to complain about something for the first time was given the significance it deserved. Gil desperately needs to be needed, and Oz still relying on him in a crucial moment brings him back from dangerous thoughts that still seem to be plaguing him, even at the volume’s end.

In addition to Gil’s violent impulses, another thing I’d like to see Mochizuki explore soon is Jack’s relationship to Alice and how much it influences Oz’s feelings towards her. In fact, this ties in to another important reveal in this volume, namely why Jack was consigned to the Abyss to start with.

I suppose my bottom line is, “this volume is not to be missed.” Not that I would advocate missing any of them, really.

MELINDA: Oh! And another thing that was a fairly big deal in this volume is Oz’s increasing ability to become one with the B-Rabbit. It was frightening, for sure, but pretty interesting.

And yes, I agree. This volume is not to be missed. It’s a substantial payoff for some of the confusion we’ve endured (amidst all the beauty) thus far.

Readers, if you (like Releona) have any special requests for Off the Shelf, feel free to let us know!

Off the Shelf: Ode to Lionel Richie

May 17, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MELINDA: Hello, hello!

MICHELLE: Is it me you’re looking for?

MELINDA: Heh. Yes. Though now I’m a little embarrassed about it.

MICHELLE: I had the sheet music to “Say You, Say Me,” if that makes you feel any better.

MELINDA: It does, it does. So. What have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: Well, as promised, I undertook a marathon read of We Were There in order to finally get current with the series (now up to volume 14 in English). I must admit that I’m still kind of gathering my thoughts from the experience. But the thing that sticks in my head from when you talked about this volume last week is “That’s how you write a shoujo manga!” and I find that I couldn’t agree more.

There were several twists along the way that I totally didn’t expect, and I shan’t spoil them here, but I will say that I kind of love where the characters are at the moment, even though it’s pretty heartbreaking for some of them. I feel like mangaka Yuki Obata does an especially good job making readers understand exactly why Yano has the living situation he does without coming right out and saying, “it’s atonement.” I must also sing her praises in regards the “show, don’t tell” method of storytelling—in the volumes leading up to this one, we’d seen Yano referred to as kind but cold, and to see him so visibly, demonstrably moved in this volume shows how deeply he still loves Takahashi.

If I had any complaint at all, it would be that I could write multiple paragraphs about Yano, a couple of paragraphs about steadfast Takeuchi, and perhaps a sentence or two about Takahashi, the heroine. It’s not that she’s a flat character, exactly, but she is somewhat of an angelic figure, the only one who can heal Yano’s hurt. It struck me today that we see far more of a supporting character’s family than we ever see of hers!

Ultimately, I cannot stress enough how much I enjoyed catching up with this series, and how much I look forward to the final two volumes.

MELINDA: I feel like I could really write a lot about Takahashi, but maybe it’s just because I identified with her so strongly early on in the story. I suppose I feel like I *know* her in some way, despite the fact that she’s not as obviously fleshed-out. I could write a book about Takeuchi, though, mostly because I feel so freaking SORRY FOR HIM. Poor Takeuchi.

Seriously, though, this is a great shoujo manga.

MICHELLE: I definitely identify with her on some levels, to be sure. And man, Takeuchi. There are some especially painful moments for him in volume 14, too. I keep hoping he’ll get together with Sengenji in the end, but that’s a little bit Marmalade Boy.

Anyways, what have you been reading this week?

MELINDA: Well, first I read volume one of Shuzo Oshimi’s The Flowers of Evil, a new shounen series from Vertical. With the back cover tagline, “Aren’t you a perv too?” I wasn’t sure this would be a good fit for me, but I actually liked it quite a bit.

Kasuga is a bookish middle schooler who buries himself in Baudelaire poetry while admiring his pretty classmate, Saeki, from afar. One day after school, he finds himself alone in his classroom, along with Saeki’s gym bag, and impulsively steals her gym clothes to take home with him. He regrets this action pretty much right away, but by the time he has an opportunity to try to put the clothes back, the whole class is buzzing about a clothes-stealing pervert. Worse still, the class outcast, a foul-mouthed girl named Nakamura, saw him steal the clothes, and is using the information to blackmail him into hanging out with her.

Nakamura is obsessed with Kasuga’s bad deed, and with the idea of seeing Kasuga act out his fantasies (or what she imagines to be his fantasies) with the clothes, and she’s enough of a bully to get under his skin with it all, especially after Kasuga actually scores a date with his dream girl. This aspect of the story gives it a fetish-y feel, similar to something like Sundome, though the vibe is a bit different than that series, since the girl who’s controlling the hero isn’t the object of his sexual fantasies (at least not yet). If anything, it seems like she’s drawn to him mostly because she’s relieved to find out that she’s not the only person in her class having “perverted” thoughts, which is sort of heartwarming in an odd way.

What really makes this story work for me, is that both Kasuga and Nakamura are sympathetic characters, whose personal failures and perversions really ring true for their age. It’s hard not to relate to the boy who is aware that his obsession with foreign poetry is based in a kind of desperate pretension, but can’t stop himself from embracing that anyway, or the unpopular girl who is so grateful to find that she’s not all alone with her sexual fantasies, and can’t quite keep herself from wanting to know more, even if she has to be a bully to get it.

It may be too early to say this, but while I never would have recommended Sundome to *you*, Michelle, I think I actually might recommend The Flowers of Evil. And I certainly recommend it to everyone else.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I just don’t know. I’m a little intrigued and a little hesitant. I may just have to bolster my courage and give it a go.

MELINDA: I can at least reassure you that the first volume is very tame, sexually, so testing the waters should be relatively risk-free.

So what else have you got for us this week?

MICHELLE: To give a little bit of contrast to We Were There, I opted for another shoujo love story now in its fourteenth volume, Karuho Shiina’s Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You.

Despite a few superficial similarities—the protagonists live in Hokkaido, there’s a girl named Takahashi and a somewhat inscrutable character named Yano…—the depiction of first love in these series could not be more different, with the sweetness of Kimi ni Todoke offering a bit of brain balm after the more-or-less realistic drama of We Were There.

The premise of the series is that Sawako Kuronuma has always unintentionally scared her classmates with her spooky behavior and resemblance to a horror movie character, but has now finally made a couple of good friends and found love with the popular Shota Kazehaya. The fourteenth volume finds the main characters on a school trip to Okinawa, and while Sawako and Kazehaya come reeeeeeally close to sharing their first kiss, and it’s all very adorable, the really emotional moments belong to her two friends.

Most of the time, tomboyish Chizu is rather ditzy, but when she realizes that her childhood friend, Ryu, likes someone and hasn’t told her who it is, it really bothers her. She is genuinely shocked to learn that she is the object of his affections, but the volume ends before she can really begin to process the information. Even more affecting is Ayane Yano’s failed attempt to fall in love—seeing her two friends confess their love in recent volumes (Chizu has long had a thing for Ryu’s brother) made this mature and rather private girl yearn to experience love, and when a boy in another class asked her out, she said yes, thinking she might be swept away on the tide of his feelings for her. Alas, things don’t go as planned, and she ends the volume in tears.

I love that a character as complex as Ayane exists in the realm of shoujo manga, usually populated by girls who don’t think much before they speak, and find myself rooting for her happiness even more strongly than I do for the main characters, now that they seem to be on the path to happily ever after. I wonder if Yuki Obata and Karuho Shiina are in secret communication and Ayane is, like, Motoharu’s long-lost cousin or something.

MELINDA: I’m a few volumes behind in this series, but I love the fact that its cheerful sweetness manages to feel just as rich and emotionally true as the delicate melancholy of We Were There—thanks largely to the awesomeness of Chizu and Ayane. I’m a real sucker for female friendship in manga, and these two are the greatest example of that since Fruits Basket‘s Uotani and Hanajima. I’m so glad to hear there’s so much of them in volume fourteen.

MICHELLE: I am sure that Chizu and Ayane would totally be friends with Uotani and Hanajima. Not only that, the four of them would look on proudly as Tohru and Sawako tentatively became friends.

What else did you read this week?

MELINDA: This week, I also read volume one of Kyudo Boys, a series of short shoujo manga by Keiko Nishi, available from JManga. I say “shoujo,” because the stories are school-based, and it ran in Wings, but for the record, JManga classifies it as josei.

The stories all revolve around the members of a high school archery club—both male and female members. Some of the stories are romantic, like one about a boy who can’t decide whether he has a crush on a new girl or her twin brother, or a later story (one of my personal favorites) about an archery nerd who discovers that it’s his very nerdishness that makes him attractive to a pretty team member. I should note, however, that not all the stories are romances, and even the ones that are, are more concerned with exploring the idiosyncrasies of their subjects than reaching any kind of romantic conclusion. I love romance—we all know that—but even I have to admit that it’s refreshing to read a shoujo manga in a school setting that isn’t playing by those rules.

Short stories have never been my favorite format for manga, but these make the best of their brevity, by focusing on small moments and embracing an open-ended feel. Nishi never gets too ambitious. She doesn’t rush. She presents us with a few deft snapshots that let us feel like we’ve really gotten to know and love these students, without ever giving us too much to handle, story-to-story. Her artwork is charming, and relatively sparse, with a light touch that matches the breezy tone of the book overall.

Though it may seem like I don’t have a lot to say about this manga, the truth is, it’s simply charming. It’s a very satisfying light read, and I’d recommend it without question.

MICHELLE: I’ve definitely had Kyudo Boys on my radar as a candidate for a future Going Digital column. That’s largely because Keiko Nishi was responsible for some of the first josei to hit American shores. Like you, I’m not particularly into short stories, but I am definitely, definitely down with idiosyncratic romance!

MELINDA: Unlike Flowers of Evil, I can *wholeheartedly* recommend this series to you. It’s absolutely your kind of manga.

MICHELLE: That’s good to know!

Off the Shelf: Second volumes & others

May 10, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda? What did the fish say when he ran into the wall?

MELINDA: I don’t know, Michelle, what did the fish say when he ran into the wall?

MICHELLE: “Dam.”

MELINDA: Okay, that time I actually laughed.

MICHELLE: Yay! Victory at last!

Anyhoo, I believe it’s your turn to go first in talking about some of the manga you’ve read since we last convened.

MELINDA: You’re right!

So, first I caught up with you (and the rest of the manga blogosphere), and finally read the first two volumes of GTO: 14 Days in Shonan, the latest hit from Vertical. I have to admit, that despite all the praise, I was a little reluctant to dive into the GTO universe. I’d never read any of it when it was published by Tokyopop, so I wasn’t at all familiar with the characters, and even after your reassurances a few columns ago, I still couldn’t quite shift myself from simply “intrigued” to “actually cracking the books.” This week, I finally did it, and I am pleased to say that I enjoyed myself so much that I decided to bring it here to the column, even though we discussed the series so recently.

You’ve already covered the premise, so I won’t rehash it all here. While, unlike you, I didn’t worry about the comedic sensibility coming too close to something like Detroit Metal City (I loved Detroit Metal City), I did worry that I’d just find it all kind of… boring. Or maybe contrived. Fortunately, it was neither, and (again, unlike you) I think I just might be looking to try to track down all the series’ previous volumes.

What I found pretty spectacular about 14 Days in Shonan, is that it features a main character who spends a lot of time telling other people just how much of a badass he is, while actually being a badass. Usually, if a character has to tell me how great he is, that’s a sure sign that I won’t think he’s great at all—but in this case, Eikichi is exactly what he says he is, and I find myself with absolutely no doubt at all that he’ll be able to do absolutely anything he says he can, including winning over all the teens at the White Swan Children’s Home, while also possibly saving the world. And perhaps curing cancer. Can you tell I liked him?

Seriously, though, I enjoyed these volumes so much more than I expected, I find myself wishing I had some kind of award to give out for it, or something. It’s been a while since my expectations were so neatly trounced.

MICHELLE: Yay, I’m glad you liked it! I like what you said about the reader’s confidence in the protagonist’s ability to make good on his promises; I absolutely felt the same. I should also note that I liked the second volume even more than the first, and am at least intrigued by the prospect of reading the earlier series, if daunted by the expense of such an endeavor.

MELINDA: I’d say that I preferred the second volume as well, and I’m actually glad I saved them up to read together. Though now, of course, I’m anxious to get to the third!

So what have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: Well, speaking of second volumes… I checked out volume two of Durarara!! this week. For the uninitiated, this is ostensibly the story of a kid named Mikado, who has moved to Ikebukuro to attend high school and has encountered its various peculiar residents. There’s a lot more going on besides that, though, including a mysterious gang, a nefarious pharmaceutical company, and a headless (female) figure in black who rides through town on a motorcycle.

I deemed volume one “weird but intriguing,” and was hoping things would start to make a bit more sense in the second volume. And they do. I think, though, that my favorite plotline—the mystery surrounding Celty, the black rider—may actually now make a bit too much sense. A key revelation regarding her felt so obvious I’m left wanting a twist of some kind. “Is that all there is?” Meanwhile, other aspects of the story are still fairly baffling at this point.

I guess my gripe is I’d prefer a more balanced march towards clarity, as opposed to a lopsided one. Durarara!! is a very stylish series, and not one with a whole lot of depth, and I’d hate to see Celty’s tale resolved in a perfunctory manner.

MELNDA: I admit I had little patience with volume one, and though it’s heartening to hear that volume two is more coherent, I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea. Normally, I can deal with waiting for things to make sense, but it sounds like the payoff may not be worthwhile.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I really don’t know at this point. I’m willing to keep going with it a while longer, but I have no idea whether I’ll be satisfied or annoyed in the end.

What else did you read this week?

MELINDA: On a very different note, I also read the latest volume of one of my favorite current shoujo series, Yuuki Obata’s We Were There. Though this is a title I have reviewed regularly, I think this may be the first time I’ve brought it to Off the Shelf.

For anyone who might be unfamiliar with this series, it’s one of those titles like Sand Chronicles that begins as a high school romance, but eventually takes its characters much further into their lives, ultimately feeling much more like josei than shoujo, at least for my money. Though unresolved teen emotions are a major element of the romance, the characters also must face much more grown-up concerns, like jobs, marriage proposals, and taking care of ailing parents.

Clinging to first love is often a theme in these types of stories, and that’s certainly the case with We Were There, though it’s only “first love” for Nanami, the story’s heroine, as one of the romance’s primary conflicts is hero Motoharu’s lingering feelings for his former girlfriend who died in a car accident (and some of the ill-considered choices he makes out of guilt and grief). Though the plot is pure soap opera, Obata’s handling of it is so thoughtful and complex, it feels very little like anything I would normally describe with that term. Like Obata’s writing, the relationships in We Were There are as delicate as a scrap of old lace, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. And crumble they do.

This series has long been a favorite of mine—one of a short list of shoujo manga (along with more dramatic titles like Banana Fish and Tokyo Babylon) that’s made me sob helplessly for long periods while reading. So it was a bit of a surprise to me to find that volume 13 left me feeling completely disillusioned with the story’s primary relationship, to the point where I no longer had any desire to see it rekindled. I was okay with this, really. After all, there was another perfectly wonderful love interest just waiting there for my heroine. I didn’t need to care about Nanami and Motoharu anymore. I really, really didn’t.

Except now I do.

And that, volume 14, is how you write a shoujo manga. Heh.

MICHELLE: I stalled out on volume four of We Were There, but I actually just started over from the beginning the other day! If all goes according to plan—and if you don’t mind a bit of redundancy—I’ll be talking about this volume next week! I really look forward to seeing how the series progresses, as I am still firmly in the high school portion of the story.

MELINDA: I will be thrilled to hear what you think of this volume next week! And I’ll take care not to spoil you any further.

What else do you have for us this week?

MICHELLE: You may remember that I was a big fan of Dining Bar Akira, a BL oneshot published by NETCOMICS. So when JManga licensed another oneshot by its creator—Tomoko Yamashita—I knew I had to read it.

Don’t Cry, Girl is first and foremost an exceedingly silly manga. Due to unspecified problems with irresponsible parents, 17-year-old Taeko is sent to live with an acquaintance of her father named Masuda. Unfortunately for virginal Taeko, Masuda is a nudist and opens the door in his birthday suit. Taeko freaks out, as any normal person would, and I was giggling by page three, thanks to dialogue like, “Oh, shut up! Shut up, you stupid naked dumbass!”

Still, she’s got nowhere else to go, so Taeko and Masuda continue to cohabitate. Yamashita has a lot of fun with the premise, positioning speech bubbles and house plants in front of Masuda’s nether regions, and eventually introducing a friend for Masuda whose cool and sophisticated veneer hides a penchant for juvenile humor. A couple of would-be serious moments don’t quite work however, and make it hard to remember that this is a comedy and certain things don’t really need to make sense.

Also included is a story called “3322,” in which another young woman is staying with her father’s acquaintance. Kanoko is considering leaving school, so her father has her stay with Chiyoko, who is probably her mother. While Chiyoko has a dalliance with a local man, and her friend Yoko seems to pine unrequitedly for her, Kanoko finds herself interested in Yoko while frustrated by the adults and all their secrets. It’s an interesting tale and one I wish could be expanded upon.

Although a little uneven, Don’t Cry, Girl is still a lot of fun. And JManga’s now got another Yamashita title up—Mo’some Sting—which I will definitely be checking out!

MELINDA: Okay, now I’m giggling thanks to just the bit of dialogue you quoted! Silly manga is not always to my taste, but this sounds like far too much fun to pass up!

MICHELLE: I think it’s just the right kind of silly. Once again, I find myself thanking JManga for offering something it’s very unlikely we would’ve been able to get in English otherwise. New est em, new Tomoko Yamashita… could new Saika Kunieda (Future Lovers) be next? One can only hope!

MELINDA: That’s worth some hope, indeed!

Off the Shelf: BL GL Bookrack

April 28, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 8 Comments

MELINDA: Welcome back to Off the Shelf! We’re doing something a bit different with the column this week. Usually, somewhere around this time, we’d be preparing our monthly BL Bookrack column, featuring reviews of a handful of new BL titles. This month, we decide to switch things up a bit, and take on a few Yuri titles—sort of a “GL Bookrack” if you will—inspired by the growing number of Yuri titles becoming available digitally from JManga. But as we talked more about it, we realized we both wanted to read all three of the titles currently available.

So, in the end, we bring you BL GL Bookrack, Off the Shelf style!

Michelle, would you like to introduce our first title?

MICHELLE: Hmm… where to start? I suppose the simplest title can go first, and that would have to be Hayako Goto’s Poor Poor Lips.

Told in a four-panel format, Poor Poor Lips is a comedy about Okashi Nako (whose name is a pun meaning “strange girl”), a deeply impoverished 21-year-old who answers an advertisement for a sales job at a store selling power stones. The manager, Otsuka Ren, is the daughter of a rich family who promptly tells all the applicants that she is a lesbian. When most of them flee, Nako is hired on the spot with the reassurance, “You’re DEFINITELY not my type, so don’t worry.”

Most of the manga involves gags about Nako’s extreme poverty—she eats a lot of bread crusts—and Ren’s growing fondness for her, coupled with her impulse to give Nako everything she lacks, which she is trying not to do because previous relationships have been spoiled by excess generosity. Ren also gets really jealous of Nako’s old classmate, pastry chef Furui, and does various silly things to get him to go away/keep tabs on him, including placing spy cameras in his shop.

All in all, I have to say that I didn’t find this funny at all. That’s not to say that it isn’t pleasant, but none of the gags struck me as funny. I kept thinking, “I wonder what this would be like if Nako was actually depicted as a scruffy young woman instead of looking like an eight-year-old.” I bet I would’ve liked it more then. Ultimately, I didn’t really feel much inclined to read the other two volumes available on JManga, figuring they’d simply be more of the same.

How about you?

MELINDA: I’d say my reaction was significantly different, at least once I’d gotten a ways into the story. What you describe is pretty much how I felt over the course of the first few chapters, but as the volume continued, I have to say it really grew on me. I began to like both of the main characters quite a bit, and I did actually find a lot of it to be quite funny, particularly the running (false) rivalry between Ren and Furui (whose family’s bakery “Furui Cake” could also be read as “old cake”).

Things like the over-the-top spying and even Nako’s young/cute appearance read as humorous to me, which I largely chalk up to its being a 4-koma. I think I would have found most of it unappealing as a regular story manga, but in comic strip format, it really worked for me.

MICHELLE: I was still envisioning it as 4-koma, but with an older-looking Nako. But, yeah, maybe a lot of over-the-top silliness wouldn’t be possible if she looked too realistic.

I will say that I think the story has surprising depth in terms of Ren’s conflicting impulses. She honestly doesn’t know how to make someone happy other than by bestowing money and gifts upon them, and it’s hard for her not to coddle someone or something she likes. Goto exemplifies this rather neatly in a few panels about a stray kitten Nako takes in, and Ren’s sad past with an overfed baby bird.

I guess I should clarify that me not finding something funny doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s worthwhile or, as I called it, “pleasant.” It is at least not outright unfunny.

MELINDA: I’ll point out, too, that this is one of the better localization efforts I’ve seen from JManga. It read really smoothly, the translation notes were genuinely helpful, and the fact that I found it funny at all says a lot. I think 4-koma is very difficult to bring across effectively in English.

MICHELLE: Definitely. I think I saw all of one typo. There are a few print publishers who wish they could make that claim!

So, how about you introduce the second title?

MELINDA: Sure! Let’s take a fairly drastic turn and look at the other single volume we each read, Ebine Yamaji’s Love My Life, originally serialized in josei magazine Feel Young, home of familiar titles like Bunny Drop (Yen Press), Happy Mania (Tokyopop), and Blue (Fanfare/Ponent Mon).

Love My Life tells the story of a young woman named Ichiko who, upon coming out to her father, discovers that he also is gay, as was her mother (who died when Ichiko was quite young). What’s especially interesting about this, is that though the story certainly centers around the relationship between Ichiko and her girlfriend, Ellie, that’s not the only thing Ichiko is dealing with by far. She’s also having to come to terms with the fact that her parents’ relationship wasn’t what she thought, and that even now, her father has been living a life completely separate from the one he has with her. And since we meet Ichiko after her relationship with Ellie has already been going on for some time, it’s neither a coming-out story nor a typical romance.

Ichiko meets her father’s boyfriend (who wants very little to do with her), helps Ellie survive her strained relationship with her own father, struggles with feelings of loneliness while Ellie studies for the bar exam, and poses as her gay (male) best friend’s girlfriend to help shield him from having to deal with his sexuality at school. It’s more of a slice-of-life manga than anything else, but emotionally resonant in a way I tend to expect from serious drama or well-written romance.

I have to say that this was probably my favorite of all the Yuri we read this week, mainly because it was by far the most relatable and true-to-life. I like genre romance a lot, but this contained some of the best aspects of romance manga (including a good amount of sexual content) without having to rely on fantasy at all, which I’ll admit is pretty refreshing. It’s also added to my yearning to see more josei in English, Yuri or otherwise.

MICHELLE: Yes, this was my favorite, as well. As you say, it’s neither a coming-out story nor a typical romance. To me, it reads simply as a growing-up story with a focus on being true to yourself. Ichiko comes out to her father, but learns a truth in return that flips her world on end. It’s a hard thing to learn that something you’d believed in was never real, and that your parents are individuals with thoughts, desires, and lives that may have nothing to do with you. As hard as that is to process, though, she achieves a better understanding of her father as a result, including the realization of how understanding he is.

And then there’s Ellie, who has been fueled by the desire to compete with her father and brother. It’s not that she particularly wants to be a lawyer, but wants to prove, “I can catch up to you. And be on equal footing with you.” Ichiko instinctively feels that this is wrong, but must learn not to meddle and let Ellie have her own journey, come to her own realizations.

I liked that there’s not a certain “happy ever after” feeling to Love My Life. Ichiko and Ellie may not last as a couple. But one definitely gets the sense that, even if that were to happen, they would still be okay.

MELINDA: That was all so eloquently put, Michelle! I’m not sure I could add anything of substance to what you just said. Yes. Exactly. You’re so right-on.

As I attempt to muster some kind of intelligence again, do you want to talk about our third selection?

MICHELLE: Thank you! And sure!

Our last title is Milk Morinaga’s Girl Friends, which is available on JManga in its five-volume entirety (and which will be coming to print courtesy of Seven Seas later this year). This seinen series was serialized in Futabasha’s Comic High! and takes place at an all-girls high school.

Mariko (Mari) Kumakura is somewhat shy and reserved, but accepts an invitation from a more outgoing classmate, Akiko (Akko) Oohashi, to take the train home together. This leads to Akko encouraging Mari to get a haircut, educating her about fashion, and introducing her to some friends, including glamorous Sugi and cosplay addict Tamamin. All of this helps Mari gain confidence and some independence, and as she and Akko get closer, she starts to realize that she not only doesn’t want their friendship to fade, but wants to be more than friends.

Various misunderstandings ensue. Mari despairs that hers is “a love that can never come true,” and decides to date a former classmate in an attempt to move on and be happy that she gets to be Akko’s friend. At one point she kisses Akko, but is later evasive and embarrassed and eventually plays it off as a joke. But soon, Akko is feeling jealous of the time that Mari spends with her boyfriend, and realizes that she too wants to be more than friends. Now if only she can convince Mari that she really means it, or has that ship already sailed?

Sorry, lapsed into a bit of “back cover blurb” style, there!

MELINDA: Well done! In some ways, the “back cover blurb” summary is very much the point. Girlfriends falls into what Erica Friedman refers to as “Story A” for the genre, which isn’t an inherently negative description, by any means, but it is an indication that this is going to be a formula romance on a basic level. It’s a very enjoyable formula romance, in my opinion, but it’s unquestionably romantic fantasy. I’d even say it’s unquestionably romantic fantasy for men, given the particular types of fanservice we see throughout, but even that isn’t really a negative. It’s just a point of fact.

As I’ve said, I absolutely enjoy genre romance, and that’s what Girlfriends is. It’s got all the sweetness and anticipation of most any high school romance you’d find in a typical shoujo magazine, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. It’s adorable. And if the way things work out so neatly and sweetly (after getting through a few typical hurdles) feels unbelievable, that’s part of what makes it fantasy.

MICHELLE: I concur. Reading it, though, I was struck by how little yuri I have really actually read. While I knew it was all going according to formula, reading about a burgeoning relationship between two girls still felt pretty new to me.

I’m glad you brought up the fanservice, because I definitely wanted to talk about that. First off, I should mention that it’s much less than I had anticipated, knowing that this series ran in a seinen magazine. There are a few superfluous bikinis, a few crotch shots, some boobies… but that’s about the extent of it. In contrast, Love My Life has much more sexual content, but because it feels more natural to the story (with no zooming in to specific body parts) it doesn’t come off as fanservice at all.

MELINDA: Yeah, I would never describe the sexual content in Love My Life as “fanservice” and looking at these two titles together really highlights the difference there. But as you say, the service in Girlfriends is definitely restrained. It almost feels like little more than a shift in perspective from shoujo romance, in which the girls are usually drawn just as prettily, short skirts and all, just not by way of the male gaze.

I, too, have read relatively little yuri, but I’m very glad to see more of it becoming available in English, including romantic fantasies like Girlfriends. I’m a big fan of romance, and I’ve pretty much discovered over the years that my tastes in that genre depend very little on the genders of the characters, outside of the fact that it offers more variety in the genre, and variety is always a good thing. Possibly that makes me pretty shallow, but really, I just like a good romance.

MICHELLE: Same here! So thanks, JManga, and more of the same, please!

Off the Shelf: Generally A-squee

April 12, 2012 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 3 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! Guess what I am doing this weekend?

MELINDA: What are you doing this weekend, Michelle?!

MICHELLE: I am going to a pen show! Specifically, a fountain pen show!

MELINDA: That sounds like a lot of fun! Um. For you. :D

MICHELLE: Mean! :) I am legitimately all asquee about it!

Is there any manga you’re asquee about this week?

MELINDA: I am happy for your squee! And yes, actually, I’m fairly asquee about all the manga I read this week.

First, this week I finally sat down with volume one of The Drops of God, the popular wine manga that’s been a New York Times bestseller for its US publisher, Vertical, Inc. Manga bloggers have been raving about this title since it was released, and our own Kate Dacey named volume three as a recent Pick of the Week. With all that hype, I figured it was inevitable that I’d be disappointed, but I actually had a lot of fun.

If there’s anyone left who is unfamiliar with the story, it begins as young salesman Shizuku is informed of the death of his estranged father, a legendary wine critic. While Shizuku rebelled by snubbing his father’s passion to go work for a beer company, his father apparently spent his final days formalizing the adoption of a young, hot-shot wine critic, Issei. Now Shizuku must compete with Issei for his father’s legacy by embarking on a quest to identify thirteen specific wines, including one known as “Kami no Shizuku” or “The Drops of God.” Finally discovering a love of wine after all these years, Shizuku throws himself wholeheartedly into the task with the help of a gifted sommelier-in-training, Miyabi.

Two things struck me immediately as I read this volume. First, as a fairly casual (if enthusiastic) wine drinker, and certainly a novice when it comes to French wine, I was impressed by how much the Kibayashi siblings (the brother and sister team behind the pen name Tadashi Agi) were able to teach me about wine without making me feel like I was watching a documentary. Secondly, though I know that this series ran in Morning, *wow* does it read like a shounen manga. From the characters’ nearly supernatural wine-tasting abilities to the protagonist’s pure-hearted launch into his father’s quest, this manga would not feel out of place in the pages of Weekly Shonen Jump. You know, except for the wine.

I had a lot of fun with this, as I mentioned in the beginning, though I’ll admit to a slight sense of weariness while plowing through some of the particularly over-the-top wine-tasting sequences, in which a sip of wine sends our hero into scenes of flowing fields and beautiful women he can’t *quite* reach until he finds the perfect one. Fortunately, there’s enough emotional truth to be found, especially in some of the manga’s primary relationships, to keep things grounded through its flights of fancy. Overall, I enjoyed myself immensely.

MICHELLE: I have the first three volumes right next to me, just waiting to be read. It sounds like the perfect blend of two stories I enjoy—seinen food manga, like Ekiben Hitoritabi, and sports manga wherein the hero discovers a passion and talent for something he had previously spurned and then tries to get better at it, like Slam Dunk.

MELINDA: Yes, I think with your love for shounen sports manga, you’ll find The Drops of God pretty irresistible. Also, I should mention that there is are at least a couple of fairly wonderful female characters, which is always a big draw for me.

So, is there anything besides pens eliciting your squee this week?

MICHELLE: Yes, though I think I will save the manga that pleased me most for my second pick and instead talk about volume two of A Devil and Her Love Song.

That isn’t to say that I disliked this, of course. The series—about Maria Kawai, a sharp-tongued girl in search of acceptance at an unremarkable high school after being expelled from a prestigious one—continues to be interesting and entertaining. In this volume, we begin to see how Maria’s personality can have a positive effect on those around her, as she indirectly influences two classmates to stop hiding beside unassuming façades and express their true selves. Of course, Maria can’t forget being told that she taints people, so she attempts to distance herself in an attempt to protect them. This can sometimes be irksome in a heroine—the whole “he/she is better off without me” routine—but it works for me here, since Maria has a legitimate reason for feeling this way and isn’t just being melodramatic.

While I definitely like Maria and the two boys most interested in her, the thoroughly over-the-top mean girls in the class leave me cold. I’d much prefer a nuanced antagonist, but instead they’re just as vile as can be. I can’t retain my composure when faced with the odious homeroom teacher, though—he is really, really horrible, especially for someone who’s in a position to be a positive influence in Maria’s life, if only he weren’t such a git.

I have a feeling volume three will be pretty awesome—Maria’s been tasked with coordinating her class’s entry into a choral competition—so, despite my small complaints, I’ve no intention of dropping the series.

MELINDA: I think I liked this volume more than you did overall. I was especially a fan of Tomoyo, the girl whose passive allegiance to the class’ mean girls caused so much trouble for Maria in the previous volume. She’s shaping up to be one of the series’ most interesting characters, I think. But wow, can I relate to your hatred for the homeroom teacher. He’s one of those characters I just want to reach out and punch with all my strength.

MICHELLE: Really, I didn’t dislike it! And you’re absolutely right about Tomoyo. I would love to see Maria realize that good things are happening to the people she has supposedly “tainted.” And I’m sure the series will go that route and will therefore be satisfying. And if that teacher could get sacked in glorious fashion, that would be icing on the cake!

What else did you read this week?

MELINDA: Well, you know I’ve been on a Keiko Kinoshita kick lately—a minor addiction that’s been primarily enabled by the Digital Manga Guild, which has been licensing her works left and right. Though I’m admittedly disappointed that I won’t be able to collect these in print, there is something pretty satisfying about being able to make an impulse purchase online and find myself reading the book on my iPad seconds later, which is what I did earlier this week with The Boyfriend Next Door, localized by the DMG group Kagami Productions.

Matsuda has finally moved to Tokyo to start university (after failing his entrance exams the year before). His big city apartment life gets off to a rocky start as he takes an immediate dislike to his new neighbor, Yaotome, a distant, fairly scruffy guy who appears to be raising his young daughter, Hana, alone. Fortunately, neighborly relations improve fairly quickly, and though Yaotome is definitely a hard nut to crack, Matsuda does eventually discover a few things about him, including the fact that he’s gay and that Hana is not his daughter.

Fans of Kinoshita’s work will not be surprised to discover that this is merely the simplest version of what is actually a much more complicated situation, and much of the manga involves unraveling the real truths behind Yaotome’s emotional unavailability. This volume is textbook Kinoshita in terms of its quiet delicacy and complex, slow-building romance, and it’s very satisfying on that front. What’s a little less satisfying, is that unlike most of her work that I’ve read, it feels a bit unfinished.

After discovering just how broken Yaotome really is, Matsuda decides he’s going to break through with the sheer power of devotion, though he’s obviously in for a long haul. Frustratingly enough, that’s where the story ends. And if I hadn’t been reading this on my precious, precious iPad, there’s a decent chance I might have thrown it across the room.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of ambiguous endings, and this volume is extremely satisfying all the way through. I’d recommend it without question. It’s just that I can’t help feeling that the real story was just getting started as I reached its final pages, and I was genuinely heartbroken not to be able to continue.

MICHELLE: Despite all of your praise, I have still never managed to find the time to read anything by Kinoshita. This does sound fairly captivating, though—is it an earlier work, perhaps? That might account for its unfinished feeling.

MELINDA: It’s kinda midway I think, but it’s certainly possible that she was asked to wrap it up suddenly, or perhaps never even got the chance to really wrap it up at all. Fortunately, You & Tonight (which is even better) is by most accounts still running, so I’ll let later volumes of that soothe my addiction as they arrive.

So, what else have you got for us this evening? And are you feeling asquee?

MICHELLE: I am! That’s because Dawn of the Arcana is a series that gets better with every volume! This week, I read volume three of this relatively new fantasy from VIZ’s Shojo Beat imprint and loved it without reservation.

For those who might not be aware, this is the story of Nakaba, princess of a struggling land called Senan, who is the product of her mother’s relationship with a man her family did not approve of. She’s allowed to live in the castle once her mother dies, but never accepted, and is eventually married off as a pawn to one of the princes of Senan’s rival country, Belquat.

Accompanying her is Loki, the faithful servant who has guarded her since infancy. Nakaba initially despised Caesar, her new husband, but he proves to be different than most of the people of Belquat, and she can’t help feeling something for them. But she feels terribly guilty about it since Loki still blames Belquat for the massacre of the village where he and Nakaba used to live, and is plotting revenge.

Man, this series is really getting good! We haven’t had too many shoujo fantasies released here, and those that were (primarily by CMX) were episodic comedies. Dawn of the Arcana is shaping up to have a really interesting political plot that is further complicated by Nakaba’s compelling dilemma—let herself be happy and in love with Caesar, or harden her heart and allow Loki to follow through with his plans. Not to mention the fact that Nakaba has inherited the special power possessed by the villagers and that a foreign prince, Akhil, not only wants her to use it on his behalf but is possibly capable of helping her develop it.

This actually reminds me a little bit of Basara, which coming from me is a major compliment. I don’t know whether Nakaba is going to lead any full-scale rebellion against a repressive government, but it doesn’t seem out of the question. Too, I can totally imagine her swaying Caesar to fight by her side. Does such epic greatness await? I hope so!

MELINDA: I agree that this series really is getting good! I was so pleased to finish volume three with none of the reservations I’d had after volumes one and two. It really has hit his stride, and I’m enjoying it completely. I’ve been reminded a bit of Basara as well, though I’m not quite as intimate with that series as you are (a temporary circumstance, I promise). I’m glad you’ve been enjoying this too!

MICHELLE: It’s always nice to discover something fabulous that one didn’t know anything about before. Thanks, VIZ!

MELINDA: Agreed!

Some review copies provided by the publishers.

Disclosure: Melinda Beasi is currently under contract with Digital Manga Publishing’s Digital Manga Guild, as necessitated for her ongoing report Inside the DMG. Any compensation earned by Melinda in her role as an editor with the DMG will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund.