Dark Horse

Clover

July 27, 2012 by Ash Brown

Creator: CLAMP
U.S. publisher: Dark Horse
ISBN: 9781595821966
Released: May 2009
Original release: 1997-1999

Technically, Clover is one of CLAMP’s incomplete works. Originally planned to be at least six volumes, the series prematurely ended at four when the magazine it was being serialized in, Amie, ceased publication. Clover was initially released in Japan between 1997 and 1999. Tokyopop first published the series in English in four volumes between 2001 and 2002 before Dark Horse released a deluxe omnibus edition of Clover, using the same translation but including additional color artwork, in 2009. CLAMP is an all-female creative group that had its beginnings as a dōjinshi circle in the 1980s before emerging as a highly successful professional group. It’s four main members, who are also the members who worked on Clover, include Satsuki Igarashi, Mokona, Tsubaki Nekoi, and Nanase Ohkawa. (Ohkawa was primarily responsible for Clover‘s story while Mokona was primarily responsible for its artwork.) Clover happens to be one of my personal favorites of CLAMP’s works. Although there are things about the series that annoy me, I enjoy its futuristic and vaguely dystopic setting and its experimental artwork. I thought the CLAMP Manga Moveable Feast was a great opportunity for me to give the manga a closer look.

After being court-martialed six times, ex-special operative Kazuhiko Fay Ryu is trying to lead a normal civilian life when the government calls him back to duty for one last mission–one that only he can complete. Charged with transporting a strange girl to an undisclosed location, there’s plenty about the mission that Kazuhiko doesn’t know. And what he doesn’t know may very well end up getting him killed. He isn’t even aware of the special connection that she shares with him. Sue, the girl, is a Clover–a child with extraordinary abilities far surpassing those of a normal psychic. Considered both extremely valuable and extremely dangerous, she has been kept alone in captivity by the government for most of her life. All she really wants is a moment of true happiness, no matter how fleeting. But now that the closely guarded secret of her existence is out, both Sue and Kazuhiko are being pursued by well-armed renegade forces who want her power for their own.

The most striking thing about Clover is its artwork. The style itself is similar to those used in other works by CLAMP, but what makes it stand out from other manga (and not just other CLAMP manga) is the group’s use of innovative and unusual panel layouts and page designs. The individual panels tend to focus closely in on a particular element; these fragments are then gathered together as a whole on the page in interesting and varied ways. CLAMP isn’t afraid of overlap or white space and relatively few panels are used on a page, giving the overall presentation of Clover a minimalist feel. CLAMP’s artwork revels in the small details, moments, and movements without becoming overly complicated. Less successful in Clover is CLAMP’s constant use of song lyrics. I can see this being used to good effect in another medium such as film, but it becomes tedious and repetitive in the manga. Eventually, I stopped reading them entirely. I suspect that the overused lyrics worked better in serialization than they do now that the manga has been collected.

The primary story is contained by the first two volumes of Clover. The third and fourth volumes serve as prequels, each going back a little further in time, which delve into the characters’ histories. Although there is still plenty of room for development, and I would love to see what CLAMP had in mind for the rest of Clover, the volumes that currently exist are more or less complete in and of themselves. In tone, Clover tends to be very melancholic bordering on and even crossing over into angst. However the future shown in Clover came to pass, it is not a particularly happy one. Very little is actually known about the world of Clover; many of the details of the setting and of the characters backstories and relationships are only hinted at or implied rather than being explicitly stated. CLAMP provides just enough information for readers to run with and to ignite their imaginations as they speculate on the series’ possibilities. Clover might not be the best of CLAMP’s works, but I think it is one of the most interesting. Even considering its faults, with an engaging setting and fantastic artwork, Clover remains a personal favorite of mine.

My 5 Favorite CLAMP Manga

July 24, 2012 by Katherine Dacey 19 Comments

I’ve read almost every CLAMP title available in English, from X (or X/1999, as we called it in back in the day) to Gate 7, and while I can’t claim to love them all, there is a core group of manga that I’ve read, re-read, and recommended to other fans. I make no special claims of excellence for these series, though I will say that these manga impressed me with their technical brilliance, genre-bending narratives, and beautiful artwork, if not their stellar endings.

MAGIC KNIGHT RAYEARTH (Dark Horse; 2 volumes)

It’s easy to forget that Magic Knight Rayearth ran in the pages of Nakayoshi, as it adheres so closely to the friendship-effort-victory template that it almost passes for a Shonen Jump title. A careful reading of MKR, however, reveals it to be a unique fusion of shojo and shonen storytelling practices. On a moment to moment basis, MKR reads like shojo: the heroines denigrate their academic prowess, swoon over the only cute boy to cross their path, and extol the value of “heart” in defeating their enemies. The intense and protracted battle scenes, however, scream Naruto — or maybe Gundam — as the girls are pushed to their physical and emotional limits while casting spells, swinging swords, and piloting giant robots. That CLAMP reconciles such tonally different genres into a coherent whole is an impressive narrative feat; no matter how many times the heroines utter dippy or painfully sincere sentiments, their tenacity in combat makes them every bit as bad-ass as Naruto, InuYasha, or Ichigo Kurasaki. -Reviewed at The Manga Critic on July 22, 2011.

LEGAL DRUG (Tokyopop; 3 volumes)

I hesitate to use the word “intertextual” to describe Legal Drug, as that term is so heavily freighted with academic associations. But intertextual it is, as Legal Drug takes place in a universe that’s been carefully mapped out in prior works such as Angelic Layer, Cardcaptor Sakura, and Suki. Major and minor characters from Chobits and Suki wander in and out of the story, providing comic relief and commentary on the budding relationship between Rikuo and Kazahaya, two handsome young errand boys for the Green Drugstore. As in xxxHolic — a series in which Rikuo and Kazahaya make guest appearances — the supernatural frequently intrudes on mundane existence, giving rise to scenes of sublime comedy and surreal grace. An odd mixture of melancholy and whimsy, with a soupçon of shonen-ai.

CLOVER (Dark Horse; 1 volume)

Clover is a gorgeous train wreck, an unholy marriage of shojo, steampunk, and science fiction that almost — almost — gels into a coherent story. The plot revolves around a class of psychically gifted individuals known as Clovers, who have been rounded up, tested, and sorted into categories based on their abilities. The most powerful — Three- and Four-Leaf Clovers — have been imprisoned, as they pose a threat to humanity.

In the small fragment of story that CLAMP completed, the Clovers’ abilities are hastily sketched; the few demonstrations of their powers are less-than-awe-inspiring, and the government’s reasons for fearing them poorly explained. But oh, the atmosphere! Anyone who remembers what it felt like to be fourteen will recognize the Clovers’ magnificent isolation, as they struggle with feelings of loneliness, rejection, and desire; that they’ve been singled out for being different (and special!) only heightens the emotional intensity of their dilemma. The artwork, too, is a feast for the eyes, with inventive layouts and sensual character designs that rank among CLAMP’s finest. Even CLAMP’s use of soggy, overwrought song lyrics as a narrative device contributes to the story’s moody beauty, if not the pantheon of great love songs.

SHIRAHIME-SYO: SNOW GODDESS TALES (Tokyopop; 1 volume)

Shirahime-Syo: Snow Goddess Tales is testament to CLAMP’s Borg-like ability assimilate any genre or artistic style and make it into their own. The three stories that comprise this slim volume are folkloric in tone and subject-matter, but expressed in a visual language that’s a beautiful synthesis of shojo manga and ukiyo print-making; the characters — with their pointy chins and artfully tousled hair — inhabit stark landscapes reminiscent of the Kishi and Shijo schools. If the overall mood is more subdued than xxxHolic or Tokyo Babylon, the stories are nonetheless moving in their directness and simplicity. The first, “On Wolf Mountain,” is the strongest of the three, exploring how one girl’s quest for revenge is transformed by the discovery that her enemy is, in fact, more courageous and generous than she ever imagined. The other stories — “The Ice Flower” and “Hiyoku no Tori” — read more like entries in Lafcadio Hearn’s Kwaidan and Other Strange Stories, but are nonetheless effective parables about sacrifice. An out-of-print gem.

X (VIZ; 6 volumes)

On many levels, X is a bad manga: the characters are underwritten, the storytelling is lazy, and the dialogue is comically awful. (Don’t believe me? Check out Party Like It’s 1999, a Tumblr blog dedicated to exploring X on a page-by-page basis.) If you can look past the 90s hair and the tin-eared dialogue, however, what you’ll discover is a fierce apocalyptic drama that boasts some of the best end-of-the-world imagery in any manga not written by Katsuhiro Otomo. Oh, and blood. Buckets of blood.

The battle scenes are kinetic and violent, executed with a gory zest that’s difficult to resist. The dream sequences, too, are suitably shocking: characters are dismembered, crucified, impaled, and engulfed in flames, often right before their loved ones’ eyes. I hesitate to suggest that X‘s body count is a victory for women, but it is a sharp and welcome rebuke to the idea that female readers strongly prefer conversation and character development to butt-kicking and carnage. – Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 10/16/11.

So, readers, I turn the floor over to you: what are your favorite CLAMP titles? Which manga do you recommend to friends and new fans? Inquiring minds want to know!

Blade of the Immortal, Volume 8: The Gathering

April 20, 2012 by Ash Brown

Creator: Hiroaki Samura
U.S. publisher: Dark Horse
ISBN: 9781569715468
Released: August 2001
Original release: 1997-1998
Awards: Eisner Award, Japan Media Arts Award

The Gathering is the eighth volume of the English edition of Hiroaki Samura’s award-winning manga series Blade of the Immortal. Published in 2001 by Dark Horse Comics, The Gathering is most closely equivalent to the seventh volume of the Japanese edition of the series, published in 1997, although it also includes a chapter from the eighth volume which was first released in 1998. Blade of the Immortal has been the recipient of both an Eisner Award and a Japan Media Arts Award. Critically acclaimed in both the East and the West, the series is also one of my personal favorites. The Gathering marks the approach of the end of the second major story arc in Blade of the Immortal. The volume picks up almost immediately after the events in the previous volume, Heart of Darkness. Since there were some pretty major developments in that volume, I was particularly looking forward to reading The Gathering.

After their violent falling out with Shira, Manji and Rin’s tenuous alliance with the Mugai-ryū assassins dissolves. Anotsu has successfully left Edo without being caught and is now well on his way to Kaga and out of the Mugai-ryū’s reach. They do, however, have an idea where Anotsu is heading. But they’re not about to tell Manji without getting something in return. Rin, still determined to pursue Anotsu, realizes that she is the only one who even has a chance of passing through one of Edo’s checkpoints and leaves Manji behind without telling him where she is going. It doesn’t take much for him to figure it out and Manji is ready to do anything it takes to follow her. But to complicate matters further, both Rin and Manji are now wanted for murder. It will be extremely difficult for either of them to leave Edo, let alone find Anotsu.

Rin is no longer as naive as she once was, although this doesn’t stop her from making decisions she knows are foolish. She has seen some terrible things on her path of revenge against Anotsu and it has changed her. The journey has changed Manji as well. He has become more open in showing his concern for Rin. While he has become quite attached to the younger girl and is very protective of her, he is not overprotective. But as soon as she disappears Manji doesn’t hesitate for a moment to try to find her again. It’s been a while since Manji has really let loose in a fight (it’s also been quite some time since he’s really needed to) but he is given ample opportunity to in The Gathering. He is at a distinct advantage because of his near immortality, but this also means he has a lot more pain and suffering in store for him. Still, Manji is able to employ in very dramatic and effective ways techniques and strategies that other swordsmen would only resort to out of desperation (if at all).

While Rin and Manji are attempting to leave Edo, the members of the Mugai-ryū are trying to make the best out of the situation. Manji and the Mugai-ryū may no longer be allies but they are all ready to use one another for their own benefit. Although the assassains’ backgrounds are still mostly a mystery, The Gathering reveals a few more hints about their employers. The assassins may be ruthless and violent, but at least for the moment it’s in their interest that Manji and Rin are alive. On the other hand the Ittō-ryū—Anotsu’s sword school—is itching to take down the man who has single-handedly killed so many of their own. Anotsu has already proven himself to be a formidable opponent, but many of the other members of the Ittō-ryū are crafty and skilled fighters, too. Even if they don’t particularly get along, Manji has given them a common goal for the time being. The Ittō-ryū is most definitely made up of the individuals with their own ways of doing things. The Gathering leaves off in the middle of an intense fight and I’m looking forward to seeing how it concludes in The Gathering, Part II.

Drifters, Vol. 1

February 14, 2012 by Katherine Dacey 12 Comments

Back in the 1980s — the heyday of Dolph Lundgren, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Sylvester Stallone — Hollywood cranked out a stream of mediocre but massively entertaining B-movies in which a man with a freakishly muscular physique and a granite jaw battled the Forces of Evil, dispatching villains with a catch-phrase and a lethal weapon. I don’t know if Kohta Hirano ever watched Predator or Red Scorpion, but Drifters reads like the first draft of a truly awesome eighties movie, complete with a trademark phrase — “Say farewell to your head!” — and a simple but effective premise that promises lots of silly, over-the-top fight scenes.

The Dolph Lundgren character — if I might be allowed to call him that — is Shimazu Toyohisa, a Satsuma warrior facing long odds at the Battle of Sekigahara (1600). Just as Shimazu’s death seems imminent, he finds himself transported to an alternate dimension, one in which mankind’s greatest warriors — Hannibal, Nobunaga Oda, Joan of Arc — have been assembled for an elaborate game. The purpose and rules of the game remain elusive, but the primary objective seems to be mass destruction: the game’s organizer unleashes hordes of ghouls and dragons on Shimazu and his allies, in the process laying waste to cities, forts, and crops.

Like all good Schwarzenegger or Stallone vehicles, Drifters makes a few token gestures towards subplot and world-building. Shimazu helps a group of elves resist their oppressors, for example, teaching them the manly art of standing up for themselves. Hirano provides so little explanation for the elves’ marginalized status, however, that the entire episode registers as a stalling tactic for the climatic battle at volume one’s end, a half-hearted effort to show us that however unhinged or deadly Shimazu may be, he knows injustice when he sees it.

Drifters’ other shortcoming is the artwork. Hirano’s clumsy character designs make the entire cast look like Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, with huge, sunken eyes, large, triangular noses, and blocky torsos. Though one might reasonably argue that Picasso’s bodily distortions were a deliberate aesthetic choice, it’s harder to make the same case for Hirano’s work; his characters’ mitt-like hands and poorly executed profiles suggest a poor command of perspective, rather than an artistic challenge to it.

Hirano’s action scenes suffer from an entirely different problem: they’re riotously busy, bursting at the seams with too many figures, monsters, and weapons, overwhelming the eye with visual information. One could be forgiven for thinking that Hirano was trying to out-do Peter Jackson; not since Sauron flattened the forces of Middle Earth have so many warriors and monsters been assembled in one scene to less effect. Looking at the opening chapter, however, it’s clear than Hirano can stage a credible battle scene when he wants to: he depicts the Battle of Sekigahara as a churning mass of horses, samurai, and swords, effectively capturing the confusion and claustrophobia of medieval combat. Once dragons and orcs enter the picture, however, the action scenes begin to lose their urgency and coherence, substituting the terrible immediacy of hand-to-hand fighting for larger, noisier air battles where the stakes are less clearly defined.

It’s a pity that Drifters is so relentless, as the story certainly has the potential to be a guilty pleasure; what’s not to like about a manga in which Japan’s greatest feudal warriors fight alongside Hannibal, Joan of Arc, and elves? What Hirano needs is a little restraint: when the story is cranked up to eleven from the very beginning, the cumulative effective is deafening, making it difficult for the reader to hear the endearingly cheesy dialogue above the clank of swords and explosions. And if there’s anything I learned from watching old chestnuts like Commando, it’s that even the most testosterone-fueled script needs to pause long enough for the hero to utter his catch phrase.

DRIFTERS, VOL. 1 • BY KOHTA HIRANO • DARK HORSE • 208 pp. RATING: OLDER TEEN

Drifters, Vol. 1

February 14, 2012 by Katherine Dacey

DRIFTERS, VOL. 1 • BY KOHTA HIRANO • DARK HORSE • 208 pp. RATING: OLDER TEEN

Gate 7, Vol. 1

October 21, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 23 Comments

I have good news and bad news for CLAMP fans. The good news is that Gate 7 is one of the best-looking manga the quartet has produced, on par with Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles and xxxHolic. The bad news is that Gate 7‘s first volume is very bumpy, with long passages of expository dialogue and several false starts. Whether you’ll want to ride out the first three chapters will depend largely on your reaction to the artwork: if you love it, you may find enough visual stimulation to sustain to your interest while the plot and characters take shape; if you don’t, you may find the harried pacing and repetitive jokes a high hurdle to clear.

Art-wise, Gate 7 most closely resembles Tsubasa. The character designs are elegantly stylized, rendered in delicate lines; though their proportions have been gently elongated, their physiques are less giraffe-like than the principle characters in Legal Drug and xxxHolic. The same sensibility informs the action scenes as well, where CLAMP uses thin, sensual linework to suggest the energy unleashed during magical combat. (Readers familiar with Magic Knight Rayearth will see affinities between the two series, especially in the fight sequences.) Perhaps the most striking thing about the artwork is its imaginative use of water and light to evoke the supernatural. As Zack Davisson observes in his review of Gate 7, CLAMP uses a subtle but lovely image to shift the action from present-day Kyoto to the spirit realm, depicting the characters as stones in the water, with soft ripples radiating outward from each figure….

Gate 7, Vol. 1

October 21, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

The story, however, is less satisfying. The plot revolves around high school student Chikahito Takamoto, a timid dreamer who’s obsessed with Kyoto as a place of “history, ancient arts, temples, and shrines.” While exploring the Kitano Tenmangu Shrine, Chikahito is transported to an alternate dimension, where he encounters three warriors: Sakura, Tachibana, and Hana, an androgynously beautiful, child-like figure who possesses even greater spiritual power than the other two. Chikahito watches the trio dismantle a ribbon-like serpent, but before he can question what he’s seen, poof! he finds himself eating noodles with them in a Kyoto apartment as Sakura and Tachibana debate the ethics of erasing Chikahito’s memory.

Hana astonishes Chikahito with an awesome display of power.

The biggest problem with this introductory section is that the subsequent chapter traces a nearly identical trajectory: Chikahito returns to Kyoto, encounters Hana in the streets, then is whisked onto the spirit-plane for another round of magical combat. As soon as the monster is defeated, Chikahito once again finds himself eating a meal with Hana, Sakura, and Tachibana. (This time around, however, they gang-press him into cooking and cleaning for them.) CLAMP even recycles the same gags from the prelude: Hana’s fragile appearance belies a monstrous appetite for noodles, an incongruity CLAMP mines for humor long past the point of being funny.

Other problems prevent Gate 7 from taking flight in its early pages. As we begin to learn more about the Kitano Tenmagu Shrine, for example, various characters take turns explaining its history. These narratives are clearly intended to set the table for a more complex plotline, but have the unintended consequence of stopping the story dead in its tracks. The script also makes some maddening detours into mystical clap-trap; in trying to understand how the seemingly ordinary Chikahito can enter the supernatural realm, characters lapse into Yoda-speak. “We’re alike,” Hana informs Chikahito. When asked, “In what areas?” Hana cheerfully replies, “In areas that are… ‘not.’ Where he’s the same is… ‘not.'”

The most disappointing aspect of Gate 7 is the flimsiness of the characterizations. CLAMP seems to be relying on readers’ familiarity with other titles — Cardcaptor Sakura, Chobits, Tsuaba, xxxHolic — in establishing each character’s personality and role in the drama. Hana, for example, slots into the Mokona role: Hana refers to himself (herself?) in the third person, repeats pet phrases, and behaves like a glutton, yet proves surprisingly powerful. Chikahito, on the other hand, is a carbon copy of xxxHolic‘s Watanuki, a nervous, bespectacled everyman who unwittingly becomes the housekeeper and magical errand-boy for more supernaturally gifted beings. The frantic pace and abrupt transitions between the mundane and supernatural world further complicate the process of establishing Hana and Chikahito as individuals; with so much material stuffed into the first two hundred pages, CLAMP leans too heavily on tics and mannerisms to carry the burden of the characterization. (Cute finger-wagging does not a character make.)

The dramatic introduction of a new character in the volume’s final pages suggests that CLAMP may finally be hitting its stride in chapter four. As promising as this development may be, I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m reading a Potemkin manga, all surface detail and no depth. Let’s hope volume two proves me wrong.

GATE 7, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • DARK HORSE • 192 pp. • NO RATING

Manga Artifacts: The Legend of Mother Sarah

October 9, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 15 Comments

Most American manga fans know Katsuhiro Otomo as the creator of AKIRA, and perhaps of Domu: A Child’s Dream and Hipira. But did you know that Otomo was also the author of The Legend of Mother Sarah, a criminally under-appreciated sci-fi epic that’s equal parts Mad Max and Terminator II?

Set in the not-too-distant future, Mother Sarah begins in space — or, more accurately, space stations, where the survivors of a nuclear holocaust have sought refuge from the Earth’s extreme climate changes. When riots threaten the peace aboard these floating cities, the military evacuates civilians back to the surface, in the process separating thousands of children from their parents. Sarah, the story’s eponymous heroine, is on a quest to find her own family, all of whom disappeared in the chaos aboard the space stations. Traveling with Tsue, a trader, she wanders a desolate landscape of crumbling cities, slave-labor camps, religious compounds, and hardscrabble farms, putting the hurt on anyone who threatens the honest folk she meets along the way.

Given its classic premise and cool, resourceful heroine, it’s curious that Mother Sarah had such a short shelf life. As tempting as it may be to chalk up fan indifference to sexism, or antipathy towards Otomo’s other (read: not AKIRA) projects, I think the real reason lies with the way Mother Sarah was released.

Dark Horse published the series from 1995-98, but only collected the first eight issues into a trade paperback. . When read in thirty-page installments, The Legend of Mother Sarah: Tunnel Town is engaging but frustrating. Otomo and artist Takumi Nagayasu’s sense of pacing, in particular, is too leisurely for a stand-alone booklet: they establish a new setting with a dozen wordless panels, luxuriate in an explosion, or depict a fist-fight over five or six pages, gobbling up pages that might otherwise be advancing the story.

Contrast an issue of Tunnel Town with that of a long-running American series and the incompatibility of format and story becomes more apparent. In each issue of The Walking Dead, for example, one important event is dramatized: the characters make a critical discovery about their zombie foes or confront a troublemaker within their ranks. Though the issue may end on a cliffhanger, there’s a sense of closure that’s missing from an issue of Mother Sarah, even though both stories are clearly intended to extend beyond the confines of a single pamphlet. Put another way, each issue of Walking Dead has a clear beginning, middle, and end, whereas Sarah simply stops; it’s as if the author pressed “pause,” rather than set the table for the next chapter.

When read in trade paperback form, however, Tunnel Town has a more satisfying rhythm. Those establishing shots and slow-mo fight scenes draw the reader deeper into the story; we feel like we’re actually part of the scene, rather than passive witnesses to the action. The continuity between events is easier to appreciate as well. Sarah’s skirmishes with authority no longer seem like a string of isolated incidents, but a steadily escalating pattern of violence that demands resolution. And what a finale! Coming at the end of two hundred pages, the denouement is less a cool stunt than a thrilling affirmation of Sarah’s courage and smarts, an emphatic punctuation mark at the end of a long but well-reasoned paragraph.

I’m guessing that someone at Dark Horse must have thought Mother Sarah was ill-served by the thirty-page format, as the next two arcs — City of the Children and City of the Angels — were published in forty-eight page installments, a development highlighted on the front covers of each issue:

As a result, the later mini-series are more engaging; we’re treated to a larger, more satisfying chunk of story in each installment, a chunk that I suspect corresponds to the way the manga was serialized in Young Magazine. (I don’t know that for a fact, however, so feel free to politely educate me on this point if I’m off base here.) Alas, neither Children nor Angels were collected in bound form, making it harder for a new generation of manga fans to discover the series for themselves.

For all my grumbling about format and scarcity, however, all three story arcs are worth owning, both for the art and the story. Takumi Nagayasu’s crisp visuals are pleasingly reminiscent of Otomo’s. Nagayasu’s characters are drawn in a naturalistic fashion, with plenty of attention given to hands, facial hair, posture, wrinkles, and muscles; even the most inconsequential soldier or civilian is given a unique face and a thoughtfully constructed costume. Nagayasu also shares Otomo’s love of vehicles and decaying urban landscapes, rendering both in a fine, evocative fashion; one can almost hear the steel structures rusting from neglect.

Otomo’s writing is as strong as Nagayasu’s artwork. Though Sarah is a certifiable bad-ass, capable of kicking and stabbing her way out of a tight situation, she relies on her wits just as frequently as her fists. Her maternal instincts, too, inform much of her decision-making; throughout the series, Sarah is drawn to conflicts involving exploited or abused children, offering her a chance to symbolically “save” the family she lost ten years earlier. In short, Sarah is a woman warrior in the Lt. Ellen Ripley/Sarah Connor mold: fierce, strong, principled, and, above all else, a mama grizzly who sides with the young and the helpless. Oh, and she looks good while dispensing justice, too. Now that’s my kind of escapism, no matter how it’s packaged.

THE LEGEND OF MOTHER SARAH • STORY BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO, ART BY TAKUMI NAGAYASU • DARK HORSE • NO RATING

Manga Artifacts: The Legend of Mother Sarah

October 9, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

Most American manga fans know Katsuhiro Otomo as the creative force behind AKIRA and Domu: A Child’s Dream, but Otomo’s catalog also includes works like The Legend of Mother Sarah, in which Otomo penned the script but relinquished the illustration duties to another manga-ka. And while Mother Sarah isn’t quite as visually dazzling as AKIRA or Domu, this post-apocalyptic adventure is every bit as fun to read, thanks to its vivid characterizations and dynamic action sequences.

Set in the not-too-distant future, Mother Sarah begins in space — or, more accurately, space stations, where the survivors of a nuclear holocaust have sought refuge from the Earth’s extreme climate changes. When riots threaten the peace aboard these floating cities, the military evacuates civilians back to the surface, in the process separating thousands of children from their parents. Sarah, the story’s eponymous heroine, is on a quest to find her own family, all of whom disappeared in the chaos aboard the space stations. Traveling with Tsue, a trader, she wanders a desolate landscape of crumbling cities, slave-labor camps, religious compounds, and hardscrabble farms, karate-chopping anyone who threatens the honest folk she meets along the way.

Given its classic premise and cool, resourceful heroine, it’s curious that Mother Sarah had such a short shelf life here in the United States. As tempting as it may be to chalk up fan indifference to sexism, or antipathy towards Otomo’s other (read: not AKIRA) projects, I think the real reason lies with the way Mother Sarah was released. Dark Horse published the series from 1995-98, but only collected the first eight issues into a trade paperback. When read in thirty-page installments, The Legend of Mother Sarah: Tunnel Town is engaging but frustrating. Otomo and artist Takumi Nagayasu’s sense of pacing, in particular, is too leisurely for a stand-alone booklet: they establish a new setting with a dozen wordless panels, luxuriate in an explosion, or depict a fist-fight over five or six pages, gobbling up real estate that might otherwise be advancing the story. Contrast an issue of Tunnel Town with that of a long-running American series and the incompatibility of format and story becomes more apparent. In each issue of The Walking Dead, for example, one important event is dramatized: the characters make a critical discovery about their zombie foes or confront a troublemaker within their ranks. Though the issue may end on a cliffhanger, there’s a sense of closure that’s missing from an issue of Mother Sarah, even though both stories are clearly intended to extend beyond the confines of a single pamphlet.

As a result, the later mini-series are more engaging; we’re treated to a larger, more satisfying chunk of story in each installment, a chunk that I suspect corresponds more closely to the way the manga was serialized in Young Magazine. Alas, neither Children nor Angels were collected in bound form, making it harder for a new generation of manga fans to discover the series for themselves.

THE LEGEND OF MOTHER SARAH • STORY BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO, ART BY TAKUMI NAGAYASU • DARK HORSE • NO RATING

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, Vol. 8

September 16, 2011 by Michelle Smith

By Joss Whedon, et al. | Published by Dark Horse

Because I’ve spent so much time and energy in the attempt to quantify why and how Season Eight lost me, I find myself sorely tempted to dismiss this final volume with a simple “meh,” but I suppose I can summon one more burst of effort.

This volume comprises the last five issues of Season Eight (#36-40) and also includes a fun Riley one-shot by Jane Espenson called “Commitment through Distance, Virtue through Sin.” When last we left off, Buffy had turned down sex-spawned paradise to return to this dimension and help her friends fend off the demons that poured in once her mystical boinkage with Angel created a new universe. Then Spike showed up.

As usual, the arc actually starts off pretty well. We see how Angel was convinced (by a talking dog who gets some great lines of Whedon dialogue) to take up the Twilight cause, and some of how Spike became involved. (Please note at this point that Spike has just apparently read Buffy’s name in the newspaper, where she is labeled a terrorist. This will be relevant in a moment.) Now with Buffy and the others, Spike says that “the seed of wonder,” the source of all magic in the world, can stop all of this. And it just so happens to be in the Sunnydale Hellmouth, guarded by the revived Master.

So everyone goes there or maybe they were there already. I have honestly lost track. Anyway, Twilight is very displeased that its parents have abandoned it, and while Buffy and friends are ostensibly protecting the Seed, Twilight possesses Angel and makes him attack Buffy. Long story short: Giles attempts to kill Angel with the scythe, but it’s absolutely hopeless and Angel breaks his neck (just like Jenny Calendar). Buffy, mad with grief, has just had enough and she breaks the seed, severing the connection between this world and magic. Willow, who had possibly been making some headway against the attackers, is promptly stripped of her powers. Though I often criticize Georges Jeanty’s art, Willow’s expression at this moment is some of his best work.

Issue #40 picks up four months later and largely serves to set up Season Nine. Buffy is crashing on the couch at Dawn and Xander’s San Francisco apartment, working in a coffee shop and routinely dealing with confrontations with Slayers and Wiccans who feel that she betrayed them. Dawn has gone back to school and Xander has once again found gainful employment in construction. Giles left everything to Faith in his will (ouch!), including a London flat. She is also apparently the only one willing to care for a catatonic Angel, which I think is pretty awesome. Given their affinity, it makes perfect sense that she’s the one willing to forgive him when no one else can so much as even look at him.

So. Here are the things I disliked about all of this:

1. I swear sometimes that Whedon is actively trying to get me to hate Buffy. In issue #31, she confesses her love for Xander. In issue #34, she boffs Angel. In issue #36, she is still glowy about that, despite the havoc that ensued. “You gave me perfection and you gave it up. That’s not just the love of my life. That’s the guy I would live it with.” Um, did you forget the 206 girls he killed to get to that point? I can buy Faith’s actions so much more easily than Buffy’s because though she forgives him, it’s not like she’s forgotten all that he’s done.

As if this weren’t bad enough, in issue #37 Buffy is talking with Spike and begins daydreaming about making out with him. A throwaway comment suggests that perhaps this is a remnant of Twilight mind control, and I hope that’s true. I’m not suggesting that Buffy is usually virtuous or that she doesn’t make some impulsive choices when lonely, but holy crap. What a horndog!

2. Remember that newspaper that mentioned “terrorist Buffy Summers”? Well, how is Buffy able to resume life in San Francisco under her own name? In a recent Q&A, Scott Allie says “Buffy didn’t become a household name,” but issue #36 sure seems to indicate otherwise.

3. So far, I feel nothing about Giles’ death. It just doesn’t feel real. There wasn’t enough impact or something. Hearing his will helped it sink in more (and he gets a middle name: Edmund), but, odd as it sounds, I want to be sobbing over this, and I am not.

Now, that’s not to say that there aren’t good things in this volume. Looks like there’s 3 of those, too.

1. There are some great scenes between pairs of characters. Giles and Buffy have a nice scene and Giles and Xander do, as well. Probably my favorite scenes involve Spike and Buffy, though, because he is pretty frank concerning how disgusting he finds everything.

Spike: Under all that demon viscera, you still reek of him, and that’s not a treat for me—but it can’t be Buffy if she doesn’t bonk the bad guy, right?

Buffy: Snark!

Spike: Comes with the sizable package.

As mentioned, Willow’s grief is pretty amazing, and Kennedy haters will rejoice to learn that Willow soon breaks up with her. Less awesome is the throwaway reveal that Willow possibly loved her sexy snaky mentor, whom she will now never see again thanks to Buffy.

2. The fulfillment of the “betrayal” issue. Back in issue #10, Buffy and Willow went to visit a… seer or something, who shows Buffy a glimpse of herself (a pose that is finally realized in issue #39 after the seed has been destroyed) and says that it’s due to “Betrayal. The closest, the most unexpected.”

At first, I was kind of annoyed that the traitor was not conclusively identified, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized this is quintessential Whedon. Buffy betrayed everyone by boinking the enemy, bringing down demon hordes, and then ridding the world of magic. Buffy and Angel betrayed the new universe they created. Angel betrayed Buffy by killing Giles… Ultimately, I think the prophecy refers to Buffy herself, but it’s kind of neat that it can be interpreted in several different ways.

3. One might not expect a one-shot prequel starring Riley and his wife Sam to be kind of awesome, but this one is. It’s full of great dialogue (and when I mentioned my favorite line to Jane Espenson on Twitter she actually replied!) and reminds us once again why Sam is so fantastic. I think I now want a mini-series focusing on these two as they are occasionally summoned away from bucolic corn-growing bliss to save the world.

So now the big question is… will I read Season Nine?

While there were some things I disliked about earlier arcs in Season Eight, Brad Meltzer’s penultimate “Twilight” arc was the proverbial straw that broke the fangirl’s back, and I resolved to stay away from further Buffy comics once this particular season had wrapped up. Advance press for Season Nine, however, has made me change my mind.

Season Nine just sounds so much more like something I’d want to read (and will be co-written by Andrew Chambliss, who penned my favorite Dollhouse episode, “A Spy in the House of Love”). For example, the synopsis for the second issue begins “Buffy continues her nightly patrols while trying to cobble together a sensible life…” That sounds great to me! Much better than all this big-budget sprawl. And the Angel and Faith companion series sounds like it could be even better!

I may end up disappointed, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to resist.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, Vol. 7

August 31, 2011 by Michelle Smith

By Brad Meltzer, et al. | Published by Dark Horse

When I write a review, I do my best to articulate what I liked and didn’t like as clearly as possible. When one is a passionate fan of something, however—as I undoubtedly and unabashedly am of Buffy the Vampire Slayer—such clarity becomes more difficult to achieve. I will do my best to explain my aversion to the “Twilight” arc contained in this volume, but what it really boils down to is that I just don’t like it.

Spoilers abound. Beware.

The volume actually starts off pretty well, with a Joss-penned one-shot called “Turbulence” (issue #31) that finally gets rid of those irksome colorful goddesses for good and contains an amazing scene between Buffy and Xander wherein she reacts to seeing him kissing Dawn by confessing that she has begun to see him in a romantic light. He is appropriately incredulous:

Xander: Yoooou… have feelings. At me.
Buffy: Would that be good?
Xander: That would be great. If it was a bunch of years ago and you actually meant it.

He also points out that, even if her feelings were genuine, once she saw him and Dawn together she should’ve realized that the decent thing to do would be to keep quiet. Honestly, I’m a little bothered by how immature and selfish Buffy is here, but her desperate loneliness coupled by Xander’s rejection might play a part in her actions a few issues later. Xander, on the other hand, comes off as entirely in character; I think he is probably the best thing about the Season Eight comics, actually.

Really, the first 2.5 issues of the “Twilight” arc are pretty good, too. Buffy and Xander explore the extent of her newfound superpowers. Dawn is concerned, pointing out that “you don’t get power for free,” and she is proven correct when Willow’s search for the missing Faith, Giles, and Andrew leads to the discovery of a bunch of dead Slayers. It turns out that 206 Slayers have died since the start of the conflict, and Buffy has inherited all of their powers. She’s understandably pretty freaked out by this. “If I’m sucking their power… it makes me a vampire.”

Meanwhile, the missing trio are being held at Twilight headquarters, where Giles recognizes the enemy’s voice and many hints are dropped concerning what’s going on and Giles’s knowledge of it. “Every Watcher wonders if his Slayer might be the girl… and you’ve had more reason than any.”

The high point of the arc is when Buffy interrupts this conversation to attack Twilight, at which points he unmasks himself. Angel. Buffy’s anger is initially white-hot. “You killed my girls! Two hundred and six girls!” and “Why did you put us through this fucking hell for the past year?!” Angel rationalizes his actions as a way to keep the body count lower than if governments had gotten involved. If he posed as the masked villain and talked of “master plans,” he would distract others who might’ve wanted to take action. Simultaneously, he would focus Buffy and help her superpowers develop.

And here’s where things start to break down for me. What it boils down to is this: by activating all the Potentials, Buffy upset the balance of the Universe. But also, there’s this prophecy (referred to as merely a myth by Giles when he’s accused of not sharing his awareness of the possibility) that a Slayer and Vampire will be used to usher in a new reality of superbeings. Or something. It’s all very vague. When this new reality is established, the old one (and humanity with it) will be discarded. This is what the whole season has been building toward, and it’s just such a disappointment. Ugh.

What I really hate about this idea is that it basically retcons Buffy’s personal attraction to vampires and makes it something that the Universe’s grand plan was engineering. How much of what is happening is free will, and how much is the Universe controlling their actions? Does Angel really believe all this stuff? Or is he essentially possessed? Did Buffy really want to jump his bones so desperately (which she does, in fact, proceed to do) because she’s in a lonely and vulnerable place, or did the Universe make it easy for her to put aside her fury and make with the sexy times?

I also hate how their sexual encounter is treated, with a peanut gallery making jokes about it and many silly panels where they zoom across the sky, bodies entwined, while the world erupts in seaquakes and cyclones. It just looks stupid, but more than that, I think it was done to shock the reader. Is this juxtaposition (NSFW) of imagery and text coincidence? I think not, especially after the whole Buffy/Satsu thing.

The final issue of the arc offers some redemption, with Buffy gradually regaining her focus after sexual bliss and being dissatisfied with the pleasure paradise to which she and Angel have ascended. He is ready to believe in it (and, again, is this really his personal opinion?) and dwell there together forever but she doesn’t trust it and, more than that, can’t be happy in a nirvana while her friends are fighting for their lives. Her exact words are “Fuck evolution,” and, after a brief sad smile to acknowledge what might have been, she and Angel return to help her family fight off the hordes of demons who have invaded “the lower plane.” Willow is suitably pissed at Angel—“What you got coming you better hope never comes”—and then Spike arrives, seemingly with the intent of knocking a bunch of sense into everyone. Yay, Spike!

So, anyway, I just don’t like this arc. I don’t think it was thought through very well, and I don’t like the implications it retroactively conveys upon the events of the series. While I’m airing grievances, I shall also point out that Meltzer gets a basic fact wrong—Faith did not become a Slayer upon Buffy’s death—that no one on the editorial staff was knowledgable (or attentive) enough to spot. Too, Georges Jeanty’s renderings of Faith continue to be extremely ugly. The only way to enjoy her scenes is to just try really hard to imagine Eliza Dushku in her place.

The volume is rounded out by “Willow: Goddesses and Monsters,” another Joss-penned one-shot set before the beginning of Season Eight. In it, Willow takes some sort of magical journey that she originally skipped over in her accelerated path to power. There’s really not a lot going on here, and a lot of the dialogue is supposed to be funny but isn’t, but it’s noteworthy because it’s the first time we’ve glimpsed Tara in the comics.

One more volume to go, and it includes Spike! I never did read the final two issues, so though I am spoiled on one pivotal event, much of it will be new to me. I hope I don’t hate it.

Magic Knight Rayearth, Vol. 1

July 22, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 24 Comments

Shonen manga in drag — that’s my quick-and-dirty assessment of CLAMP’s Magic Knight Rayearth, a fantasy-adventure that adheres so closely to the friendship-effort-victory template that it’s easy to forget it ran in the pages of Nakayoshi. A closer examination reveals that Rayearth is, in fact, a complex, unique fusion of shojo and shonen storytelling practices.

If you missed Rayearth when it was first released by Tokyopop, the story goes something like this: three schoolgirls are summoned to defend the kingdom of Cefiro from the wicked priest Zagato, who’s imprisoned Cefiro’s regent, Princess Emeraude, in a watery dungeon. In order to rescue Emeraude, Fuu, Umi, and Hikaru must endure a series of trials that will reveal whether the girls are equal to the task. As the girls advance towards their goal of becoming Magic Knights, however, they begin to realize that Clef Guru, their guide and protector, has misrepresented the true nature of their assignment.

On a moment-to-moment basis, Rayearth reads like shojo. The girls bicker and complain about school; they chibify whenever they’re flustered or frustrated; they cluck and fuss over cute animals; and they share a collective swoon over the series’ one and only cute boy. (He makes a brief but memorable cameo early in the story, as the girls struggle to escape The Forest of Silence.) The girls’ fights, too, are tempered by shojo sentiment; “heart” and compassion play as important a role in defeating many of their enemies as strength and speed.

What sets Rayearth apart from so many other shojo fantasies, however, are the lengthy battle scenes. Fuu, Umi, and Hikaru prove just as adept at repelling surprise attacks and killing monsters as their shonen manga counterparts; though all three girls experience pangs of self-doubt, they show the same steely resolve in combat that Naruto, Ichigo, and InuYasha do. Equally striking is their fierce loyalty to one another; each girl is willing to sacrifice herself so that her friends might live to complete their mission. Though shojo manga can and does stress the importance of female friendship, Rayearth places unusual emphasis on the girls’ shared sense of purpose and commitment to one another. From the very earliest pages of the story, Fuu, Umi, and Hikaru characterize their bond as “sisterhood,” and believe that their love for one another is crucial to their success — a belief that’s systematically tested and proven throughout their journey.

And if you need further proof of Rayearth‘s shonen manga influence, look no further than the Mashins, a trio of anthropomorphic battle robots that Fuu, Umi, and Hikaru awaken in their quest to become Magic Knights. The Mashin are towering, sleek, and lupine, reminiscent of Yoshiyuki Tamino’s iconic mecha designs. Most importantly, the Mashin are fundamental to the story; they’re not an afterthought, but an essential element of the third act, providing the girls with the firepower necessary to combat Zagato.

Yet for all its shonen swagger, Rayearth has some of the most graceful, feminine artwork in the CLAMP canon. The girls’ physical transformations have the same sensual quality as Bernini’s The Ecstasy of St. Theresa, while their magical spells are depicted as undulating waves of energy that envelop their enemies, rather than jagged bolts of light that pierce and slice. Even small, seemingly inconsequential details — Princess Emeraude’s hair, Zagato’s robes — are infused with this same graceful sensibility — the visual antithesis of the spiky, angular aesthetic that prevails in shonen manga.

I only wish Rayearth was as satisfying to read as it is to critique. For all its genre-bending bravado, the script is so painfully earnest that it verges on self-parody. (Sample: “In Cefiro, the heart controls everything. The power of my belief can change the future!”) The girls, too, lack distinctive personalities. Fuu, Umi, and Hikaru are defined primarily by their magical powers and hairstyles, with only superficial differences in behavior and attitude to help readers distinguish them from one another. Perhaps most disappointing is the conclusion, in which we finally grasp the true cause of Emeraude’s imprisonment. For a brief moment, Emeraude seems poised to break free of an onerous responsibility that demands her complete self-abnegation to fulfill. Yet CLAMP’s desire for a dramatic ending demands that Emeraude be punished for even desiring her freedom, making Emeraude the umpteenth female character to be taken out to the woodshed for resisting such a fate.

That said, Magic Knight Rayearth‘s historical importance can’t be denied. Not only was it CLAMP’s first big commercial hit, it was also the title that demonstrated just how effortlessly they could cross genre boundaries. The resulting hybrid of shonen and shojo, sci-fi and fantasy, RPG and classic adventure story is as unique today as it was when it first appeared in the pages of Nakayoshi eighteen years ago, even if some of the visual details and dialogue haven’t aged well. Recommended.

MAGIC KNIGHT RAYEARTH, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • DARK HORSE • 640 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Magic Knight Rayearth, Vol. 1

July 22, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

MAGIC KNIGHT RAYEARTH, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • DARK HORSE • 640 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

7 Short Series Worth Adding to Your Manga Bookshelf

February 23, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 37 Comments

I like getting lost in a long, twisty story as much as the next person, but I often lose interest in a manga around the five- or ten-volume mark. As a service to other people afflicted with Manga ADHD, therefore, I’ve compiled a list of seven shorter series that enjoy pride of place on my shelves.

There were a few ground rules that guided my list-making. First, the series needed to be complete in five volumes or fewer. Second, every volume of the series needed to be readily available through a major retailer like Amazon. Third, the list needed to be diverse, covering a range of genres and demographics. Had I expanded the list to include out-of-print favorites — Antique Bakery, Apocalypse Meow, Club 9, Domu: A Child’s Dream, The Name of the Flower, Planetes — it would have been an unwieldy beast, and one sure to disappoint: why recommend a book that’s selling for $100 on eBay?

So without further ado… here are seven short series worth adding to your manga bookshelf.

A DISTANT NEIGHBORHOOD

JIRO TANIGUCHI • FANFARE/PONENT MON • 2 VOLUMES

A Distant Neighborhood is a wry, wistful take on a tried-and-true premise: a salaryman is transported back in time to his high school days, and must decide whether to act on his knowledge of the past or let events unfold as they did before. We’ve seen this story many times at the multiplex — Back to the Future, Peggy Sue Got Married — but Taniguchi doesn’t play the set-up for laughs; rather, he uses Hiroshi’s predicament to underscore the challenges of family life and the awkwardness of adolescence. (Hiroshi is the same chronological age as his parents, giving him special insight into the vicissitudes of marriage, as well as the confidence to cope with teenage tribulations.) Easily one of the most emotional, most intimate stories Taniguchi’s ever told. (A Distant Neighborhood was one of my picks for Best Manga of 2009; click here for the full list.)

ICHIGENME… THE FIRST CLASS IS CIVIL LAW

FUMI YOSHINAGA • DMP • 2 VOLUMES

One of the things that distinguishes Fumi Yoshinaga’s work from that of other yaoi artists is her love of dialogue. In works like Antique Bakery and Solfege, she reminds us that conversation can be an aphrodisiac, especially when two people are analyzing a favorite book or confessing a mutually-shared passion for art, cooking, or manga. True to form, the sexiest scenes in Ichigenme: The First Class Is Civil Law are conversations between law professors and their students. We feel the erotic charge of more experienced scholars engaging their proteges in intense debates over legal procedure and philosophy, even when the topics themselves are rather dry. Not that Yoshinaga skimps on the smut: there’s plenty of bedroom action as the carefree Tohdou helps his uptight, closeted classmate Tamiya explore his sexuality, but the series’ best moments are fully clothed. An entertaining manga that gets better with each reading. (Reviewed at PopCultureShock on 3/14/08.)

ODE TO KIRIHITO

OSAMU TEZUKA • VERTICAL, INC. • 2 VOLUMES

While investigating an outbreak of a mysterious disease, an earnest young doctor contracts it himself, becoming a hideous dog-man who craves raw meat. Kirihito’s search for the cause — and the cure — is the backbone of this globe-trotting adventure, but Kirihito’s quest to reclaim his humanity is its heart and soul; his travels bring him into contact with hustlers, racists, and superstitious villagers, each of whom greets him with a mixture of suspicion and fear. As its dog-man premise suggests, Ode to Kirihito is Tezuka at his bat-shit craziest: in one storyline, for example, Kirihito befriends a nymphomaniac circus performer who transforms herself into human tempura. But for all its over-the-top characters and plot developments (see “nympho human tempura,” above), Ode to Kirihito is one of Tezuka’s most moving stories, a thoughtful meditation on the the fluid boundaries between man and animal, sanity and insanity, good and evil. (Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 4/7/10.)

THE SECRET NOTES OF LADY KANOKO

RIRIKO TSUJITA • TOKYOPOP • 3 VOLUMES

Kanoko, the sardonic heroine of The Secret Notes of Lady Kanoko, is a student of human behavior, gleefully filling her notebooks with detailed observations about her classmates. Though Kanoko would like nothing more than to remain on the sidelines, she frequently becomes embroiled in her peers’ problems; they value her independent perspective, as Kanoko isn’t the least bit interested in dating, running for student council, or currying favor with the alpha clique. Kanoko’s sharp tongue and cool demeanor might make her the mean-girl villain in another shojo manga, but Ririko Tsujita embraces her heroine’s prickly, opinionated nature and makes it fundamental to Kanoko’s appeal. The perfect antidote to shojo stories about timid good girls and boy-crazy spazzes. UPDATE 4/16/11: TOKYOPOP announced that it would be shutting down its US publishing operations on May 31, 2011. Unfortunately, that means that Lady Kanoko will likely remain incomplete at two volumes. The stories are largely self-contained, so it is still possible to enjoy Lady Kanoko without reading the last volume.

7 BILLION NEEDLES

NOBUAKI TADANO • VERTICAL, INC. • 4 VOLUMES

Nobuaki Tadano gives Hal Clement’s Needle a manga makeover, moving the action from a remote island in the South Seas to Japan, and replacing Clement’s wholesome, Hardy Boy protagonist with a sullen teenage girl who’s none too pleased to discover that an alien bounty hunter has taken control of her body. The decision to make Hikaru a troubled loner with a difficult past is a stroke of genius; her social isolation proves almost as formidable an obstacle for her to overcome as the monster that she and Horizon (as the bounty hunter is known) are pursuing. Her personal struggles also add a level of raw, emotional authenticity to the story — something that was largely absent from the fascinating, though clinically detached, original. Oh, and the monster? It’s a doozy. (7 Billion Needles was one of my picks for Best Teen-Friendly Comic of 2010; see Good Comics for Kids for the full list. Volumes one and two were reviewed at The Manga Critic on 11/21/10; volume three was reviewed on 2/17/11. The fourth and final volume will arrive in stores on April 26, 2011.)

TO TERRA

KEIKO TAKEMIYA • VERTICAL, INC. • 3 VOLUMES

If Richard Wagner wrote space operas, he might have composed something like Keiko Takemiya’s To Terra, an inter-generational drama about a race of telepathic mutants who’ve been exiled from their home world. Under the leadership of the charismatic Jomy Marcus Shin, the Mu embark on a grueling voyage back to Terra to be reunited with their human creators. Their principle foe: an evil supercomputer named Mother. Takemiya’s richly detailed artwork makes To Terra an almost cinematic experience, suggestive of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Star Wars. But don’t be fooled by those blinking computers and blazing starships: To Terra is an unabashedly Romantic saga about two ubermensch locked in a struggle of cosmic proportions. No doubt Richard would approve. (To Terra was one of my picks for Best Manga of 2007; read the full list at PopCultureShock. For more information on To Terra‘s history, click here.)

TOTO! THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURE

YUKO OSADA • DEL REY • 5 VOLUMES

Shonen series often run to 10, 20, or 40 volumes, but Toto! The Wonderful Adventure proves that good stories come in shorter packages, too. Yuko Osada brazenly steals ideas from dozens of other sources — Castle in the Sky, One Piece, Last Exile, The Wizard of Oz — to produce a boisterous, fast-paced story about a tyro explorer who crosses paths with sky pirates, military warlords, and a high-kicking senjutsu expert named Dorothy. Though the jokes are hit-or-miss, Toto! boasts crisp artwork, strong female characters, and an infectious sense of bonhomie among the series’ protagonists; Kakashi and his traveling companions are impossible to dislike. (Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 9/16/10.)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

CAT-EYED BOY (Kazuo Umezu • VIZ • 2 volumes): Readers looking for an introduction to Kazuo Umezu’s work could do a lot worse than this two-volume collection of stories about a strange little boy who’s half-human, half-demon. Umezu gives free reign to his imagination, conjuring some of the most bizarre monsters in the J-horror canon. The results aren’t always as shocking as they might be, but Cat-Eyed Boy is by turns funny, scary, and sad. (Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 10/3/10.)

LADY SNOWBLOOD (Kazuo Koike and Kazuo Kimimura • Dark Horse • 4 volumes): Now that everyone’s forgotten Kill Bill, the epic mess “inspired” by Kazuo Koike’s Lady Snowblood, it’s possible to read this series for what it is: a deliciously trashy story about a beautiful assassin who manipulates, cajoles, seduces, and stabs her way through Meiji-era Japan. Expect copious nudity, buckets of blood, and fight scenes so outrageous they have to be seen to be believed.

ONE POUND GOSPEL (Rumiko Takahashi • VIZ • 4 volumes): In this charming sports comedy, a struggling boxer is torn between his love for food and his love for a pretty young nun who wants him to lay down his fork, lose some weight, and win a few matches. The series is a little episodic (Takahashi published new chapters sporadically), but the dialogue and slapstick humor have a characteristically Takahashian zing.

For additional suggestions, see:

5 Underrated Shojo Manga, which includes Setona Mizushiro’s X-Day;
My 10 Favorite CMX Titles, which includes such short series as Astral Project, Chikyu Misaki, Kiichi and the Magic Books, The Name of the Flower, and Presents. Note that many of these series are out of print and may be hard to find through retailers like Amazon;
My 10 Favorite Spooky Manga, which includes such short series as Dororo, Gyo, Mail, and School Zone.