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Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

H.P. Lovecraft

The Manga Review, 5/27/22

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Everybody’s talking about Tokyopop this week, as the publisher that brought us Mixx, Sailor Moon, and Rising Stars of Manga celebrates its twenty-fifth anniversary. To mark the occasion, Brigid Alverson interviewed Tokyopop founder Stu Levy about the company’s history. “Not a single person believed it would work—and frankly many called us crazy,” Levy recalled. “Even internally, most of my team was against it—or at least wanted to test it. My view was we either had conviction and went all-in or we didn’t. Testing wouldn’t work because retailers would always favor the left-to-right reading books if they had a choice—so there would never be a true test of its potential. So, I bet the company on it.” Over at Drop-In to Manga, Tony reflects on how Tokyopop titles such as Chobits and GTO: Great Teacher Onizuka helped introduce him to the joy of reading manga. “I know there’s a lot of criticism towards its founder, Stu Levy, and a lot of it is warranted,” he observes. “But I still respect Tokyopop for showing Japanese manga publishers that America can be a hotspot for manga during a time when that wasn’t the case.”

NEWS

Moto Hagio has just published a new installment in her on-again, off-again vampire saga The Poe Clan. The newest storyline, Poe no Ichizoku: Ao no Pandora, takes place in present-day Munich. [Anime News Network]

Mari Yamazaki’s Olympia Kyklos will resume serialization in Grand Jump next month. The story follows the adventures of an ancient Greek potter who’s accidentally transported to the 1964 Tokyo games. C’mon, this needs to be licensed STAT! [Anime News Network]

Are new chapters of Hunter x Hunter on the horizon? [Variety]

Brace yourself for more H.P. Lovecraft: Dark Horse will be publishing Gou Tanabe’s adaptation of The Shadow Over Innsmouth in a single omnibus edition. No word yet on a release date. [Anime News Network]

Earlier this week, the employees of Seven Seas Entertainment announced that they’d formed their own union, United Workers of Seven Seas. In a statement on their website, union organizers explain the rationale for their decision: “The company has grown exponentially since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. But with rapid growth comes growing pains, and we, the workers of Seven Seas, have been shouldering much of that pain. We find ourselves overworked, underpaid, and we do not currently receive the benefits otherwise typical of the publishing industry.” [ICv2]

FEATURES AND INTERVIEWS

Are you interested in learning more about the roots of contemporary Japanese culture? Kathryn Hemmann offers a great list of “popular-audience books that are smart and specific yet still accessible to a casual reader,” from Matt Alt’s Pure Invention: How Japan’s Pop Culture Conquered the World to Tara Devlin’s Toshiden: Exploring Japanese Urban Legends. [Contemporary Japanese Literature]

Jocelyne Allen swoons over the gorgeous artwork and soapy plot lines of Ashita Niji ga Denakutemo. [Brain vs. Book]

Over at Women Write About Comics, Carrie McClain highlights some of Seven Seas’ best new releases. [Women Write About Comics]

The folks at Anime Feminist want to know which unfinished or cancelled Tokyopop series you’d like to see rescued. [Anime Feminist]

Bill Curtis wins the award for best headline of the week with How to Ease Your Big Burly, Hairy, Glistening, Beer Swillin’, Iron Pumpin’ DUDE Self Into the Wonderful World of Shojo & Josei Manga. Amen! [Yatta-Tachi]

Speaking of josei, the Mangasplainers dedicate their latest episode to an in-depth exploration of Fumi Yoshinaga’s All My Darling Daughters. [Mangasplaining]

Congratulations to the Manga Mavericks crew: they just celebrated their 200th episode with a roundtable discussion about Tatsuki Fujimoto’s one-shot Goodbye, Eri. [Manga Mavericks]

Lucas DeRuyter revisits Death Note, a series he “took super seriously” as a teen viewer. “When I watched Death Note as a teenager I definitely hadn’t lived enough to recognize it as camp; nor did I have as firm of an understanding of my own sexuality as I do today,” he observes. “I thought I’d be returning to a problematic fave, but was delighted to realize that Death Note is camp. Accidental, ostentatious camp that, in its attempts to create a dark and edgy power fantasy, stumbles so spectacularly that it tears down some of the worst kinds of people and beliefs around today.” [Anime Feminist]

REVIEWS

Reviewing volume five of Kageki Shojo!!, Yuri Stargirl raises a good question about the state of shojo and josei licensing in North America. “Has the industry just become dominated by trite, superficial storytelling and bland art that can’t decide if it’s moe or realistic?” she asks. “Or is what gets translated to the US market so limited, that they pick lowest common denominator titles to publish even though there are a lot of higher quality ones in Japan going untranslated?” Meanwhile, Megan D. takes a look at one of the weirder titles DMP ever licensed, Bambi and Her Pink Gun, while Rebecca Silverman reviews Erica Friedman’s new book By Your Side: The First 100 Years of Yuri Anime and Manga. “If you are a fan of yuri or simply want to understand what the deal is with any of the genre’s elements or major texts, I’d highly recommend reading this book,” Silverman argues. “It’s both an analysis of and a love letter to the genre, both academic and accessibly readable, and worth your time.”

H.P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories

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If you admire the fecundity of H.P. Lovecraft’s imagination but not the turgidity of his prose, you might find Gou Tanabe’s manga adaptations of The Hound and Other Stories an agreeable alternative to the originals. Tanabe sticks close to the source material while pruning away the florid language characteristic of Lovecraft’s writing, offering more polished — and, frankly, unnerving — versions of three early works: “The Temple,” first published in 1925, “The Hound,” from 1922, and “The Nameless City,” from 1921.

Tanabe is no stranger to literary adaptations; he’s also tackled works by Maxim Gorky (“Twenty-Six Men and a Girl”), Franz Kafka (“A Hunger Artist”), and folklorist Lafcadio Hearn (“The Story of O-Tei”). Lovecraft’s writing, however, occupies a unique place in Tanabe’s oeuvre, as he’s published adaptations of other Lovecraft stories — “The Color Out of Space” (1927) and “The Haunter of the Dark” (1935)” — and expanded Lovecraft’s novella “At the Mountains of Madness” into an ongoing, multi-volume series. Reflecting on his fascination with Lovecraft, Tanabe reverentially describes him as a “priest of his own Mythos,” capable of summoning “unknowable darkness” on the page. “By illustrating his stories,” Tanabe declares, “I intend to become an apostle of the gods he made” (172).

And while Tanabe’s sentiments are a little purple, his affinities with Lovecraft are evident in his artful translation of words into images. Consider “The Temple,” a tense drama set aboard a German U-boat in the waning days of World War II. While Lovecraft’s narrator baldly ascribes the crew’s irrational behavior to “peasant ignorance” and “soft, womanish” dispositions, Tanabe focuses instead on the extraordinary claustrophobia of their environment, cramming every panel with ducts, pipes, valves, levers, and gauges; the walls of the ship seem to press in on the characters as their disabled submarine plunges to its doom. That sense of entombment is heightened by Tanabe’s stark use of tone in the story’s final act, when the light emanating from the ship barely pierces the jet-black depths of the ocean. A fleeting glimpse of a dolphin — normally a symbol of innocent playfulness — becomes a sinister omen when lit from below, its smiling visage transformed into a sneer.

Tanabe also demonstrates a flair for drawing lost cities, evoking the grandeur and mystery of ancient civilizations through sheer scale: his temples and monuments are so large that they spill off the page, while their interiors are cramped and dark, more cave than castle. In “The Nameless City,” for example, we follow the narrator through a labyrinth of dark tunnels, his torch briefly illuminating objects and surfaces that hint at the true nature of the city’s inhabitants. These panels culminate in an extraordinary two-page spread revealing a Romanesque fresco that, on closer inspection, is populated not with demons, angels, and men, but reptilian monsters arranged in concentric circles around a Christ-like figure.

The revelation of who lived there — and how they treated their human subjects — provides a moment of thematic continuity with the other two stories in the anthology. As writer Robert M. Price explains in his forward to The New Lovecraft Circle, Lovecraft’s heroes seek forbidden knowledge, “gradual[ly] piecing together… clues whose eventual destination one does not know.” Price elaborates:

The knowledge, once gained, is too great for the mind of man. It is Promethean, Faustian knowledge. Knowledge that destroys in the moment of enlightenment, a Gnosis of damnation, not of salvation. One would never have contracted with Mephistopheles to gain it. One rather wishes it were not too late to forget it. (xviii–xix)

At the same time, however, the narrator’s terrible discovery exemplifies another important strand in Lovecraft’s writing: a sense of cosmic indifferentism, the idea that the universe is, in Lovecraft’s words, “only a furtive arrangement of elementary particles” that “presage of transition to chaos.” As Lovecraft observed,

The human race will disappear. Other races will appear and disappear in turn. The sky will become icy and void, pierced by the feeble light of half-dead stars. Which will also disappear. Everything will disappear. And what human beings do is just as free of sense as the free motion of elementary particles. (Riemer)

Viewed in this light, the rendering of the fresco seems less like a simple artistic choice by Tanabe than an expression of Lovecraft’s own cosmic indifferentism. By parodying the Christian iconography enshrined on Medieval cathedral walls, ceilings, and portals, Tanabe points both the futility of belief — it didn’t save the monsters, after all — and the inevitability that mankind will repeat the cycle of birth, life, and death that the monstrous fresco depicts.

And if all of this sounds like the ruminations of a freshman philosophy major, fear not; The Hound and Other Stories can still be enjoyed on its own merits. All three stories are well paced and vividly rendered, each embodying the Romantic definition of the sublime — “all that stuns the soul, all that imprints a feeling of terror”— while offering the kind of satisfying twists that pulp fiction readers craved in the 1920s. And for those more invested in the Lovecraft mythos, The Hound provides an opportunity to revisit these stories afresh, seeing them through the eyes of an artist who has dedicated his career to finding the poetry, the mystery, and the weirdness in Lovecraft’s words. Recommended. 

References

Price, Robert M. “Introduction.” The New Lovecraft Circle. Del Rey, 2004, xiii-xxvi.

Riemer, Andrew. “A Nihilist’s Hope Against Hope.” Sydney Morning Herald, 28 June 2003, http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/06/27/1056683892274.html. Accessed on 11 Oct. 2017.

Tanabe, Gou. H.P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories. Translated by Zack Davisson, Dark Horse, 2017.