Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Osamu Tezuka

Dororo, Vol. 3

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Dororo, Volume 3Creator: Osamu Tezuka
U.S. publisher: Vertical
ISBN: 9781934287187
Released: August 2008
Original run: 1968-1969
Awards: Eisner Award

Osamu Tezuka was an extraordinarily prolific and influential creator of manga and anime. So far, only a small fraction of his total output has been released in English. Out of those, one of my personal favorites is his short manga series Dororo. With yokai, an accursed swordsman, and the inclusion of historical elements, I can’t help but like Dororo. Although eventually releasing an omnibus containing the entire series, initially Vertical published Dororo in three separate volumes which earned an Eisner Award in 2009. Dororo, Volume 3, released in 2008, contains the portion of the series that was originally serialized in Japan between 1968 and 1969. It was also during that time period that Dororo went on hiatus. Tezuka abandoned the manga for a year, leaving it without an ending, before returning to it when the Dororo anime series began. The manga was then given a proper conclusion, albeit a much shorter one than was first envisioned. The finale admittedly ended up being a bit rushed, but I love Dororo anyway.

Chased by demons and in turn chasing them down, Hyakkimaru is slowly regaining his forty-eight missing body parts one at a time; each demon he defeats brings him closer to becoming whole. Often it’s not the terrifying supernatural beings that Hyakkimaru must really worry about, though. Humans–with all of their failings, greed, and lust for power–can be just as dangerous as any monster. Hyakkimaru’s father, who selfishly sacrificed his own son’s body in exchange for demonic aid, has become an oppressive warlord. Hyakkimaru isn’t the only one suffering because of his father’s ambitions. The country is being torn apart by war and it’s the farmers and commoners who are being forced to support and fight for leaders they didn’t choose. Dororo, Hyakkimaru’s young traveling companion, also has a family legacy left to deal with. The diminutive thief’s late father was a bandit who amassed a significant amount of wealth. The map to the location of his treasure was tattooed upon his child’s back and now Dororo is pursued by those who want the riches for their own corrupt purposes.

Dororo is one of Tezuka’s transitional works as he began to develop more mature, adult-oriented stories in contrast to his more lighthearted manga generally intended for younger audiences. Dororo addresses serious issues like war and discrimination, but it also incorporates charm, humor, and bittersweet joy. One particular bright spot to balance the darker elements of the series is the titular Dororo. The small thief has led a hard life and can empathize with others and their misfortunes, becoming an exuberant and enthusiastic champion for their causes, while somehow remaining optimistic and cheerful in the face of all the unfairness and tragedy. Hyakkimaru, on the other hand, has an even more dire past than Dororo and has grown weary of the injustices in the world. But the time Hyakkimaru has spent with Dororo as they travel across Japan has changed him. Dororo’s positivity has rubbed off on Hyakkimaru and he has come to care for the youngster immensely. Whether Hyakkimaru realizes it or not, he desperately needed someone like Dororo in his otherwise bleak life.

The relationship that develops between Hyakkimaru and Dororo is only one component of many that makes me appreciate what Tezuka is doing with the series, even if it did end up being truncated. I was initially drawn to Dororo because of Hyakkimaru’s horrifying origin story and his fight to regain what he lost, searching for somewhere to belong and wanting nothing more than to live in peace. His specific situation may be unique, but that desire to be accepted by others is nearly universal. I also liked the supernatural elements in Dororo and how Tezuka slowly shifts the focus of the series to issues more firmly based in reality. The demons and monsters never completely disappear from Dororo, but as the manga progresses the historical influences and more realistic aspects of the manga become increasingly prominent. Among other things, Tezuka’s artwork and storytelling in Dororo takes inspiration from traditional legends and tales, samurai films, and events from Japan’s Warring States period, but he also incorporates his own touches and imagination and pulls it all together in a way that only Tezuka can.

Manga Giveaway: Triton of the Sea Giveaway

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The end of the month is almost here which means it’s time for another manga giveaway at Experiments in Manga! For this giveaway, participants will have the chance to win a copy of the first omnibus in Osamu Tezuka’s Triton of the Sea as published by Digital Manga. (The omnibus contains the first half of the series!) And, as always, the giveaway is open worldwide.

Triton of the Sea, Volume 1

I think it was when I finished Satoshi Kon’s Tropic of the Sea that I realized just how many manga I had read that included merfolk of one sort or another. Triton of the Sea is just one of many. Every creator seems to have a slightly different take on mermaids and mermen, which I find to be particularly fascinating. Some draw upon Eastern traditions, some are influenced by Western legends, and some freely incorporate elements from a variety of different sources, including their own personal imaginings.

So, you may be wondering, how can you win a copy of Triton of the Sea, Omnibus 1?

1) In the comments below, tell me a little about the merfolk that you’ve encountered while reading manga. (Never come across mermaids or mermen in manga before? Simply mention that.)
2) If you’re on Twitter, you can earn a bonus entry by tweeting, or retweeting, about the contest. Make sure to include a link to this post and @PhoenixTerran (that’s me).

And there it is! Each person has one week to submit comments and can earn up to two entries for this giveaway. If necessary, entries can also be sent via e-mail to phoenixterran(at)gmail(dot)com which I will then post in your name. The giveaway winner will be randomly selected and announced on October 1, 2014. Good luck!

VERY IMPORTANT: Include some way that I can contact you. This can be an e-mail address in the comment form, a link to your website, Twitter username, or whatever. If I can’t figure out how to get a hold of you and you win, I’ll just draw another name.

Contest winner announced–Manga Giveaway: Triton of the Sea Giveaway Winner

My Week in Manga: March 31-April 6, 2014

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My News and Reviews

Last week was one of Experiments in Manga’s slower weeks, but there was still some good stuff to be had, if I do say so myself. First up was the announcement of the Battle Angel Alita Giveaway Winner, which also includes a list of some of the cyborg manga available in English. Next came March’s Bookshelf Overload, which was not nearly as an absurd month for preorders as April will be for me. Finally, we get to the really good stuff. The honor of the first in-depth manga review for April goes to Inio Asano’s Nijigahara Holograph, one of my most highly anticipated releases for 2014. It’s a dark and disturbing work, but also very beautiful. Probably one of the best comics that I’ve read so far this year.

As for a few thing found online: Kim Hoang translated an interview of Kaoru Mori from the French site madmoiZelle. Sean Gaffney at A Case Suitable For Treatment investigates some of Japan’s recent manga bestsellers with an eye towards license requests. Akira Himekawa, the creative team behind the various The Legend of Zelda manga, will be featured guests at the Toronto Comic Arts Festival in May. The most recent Mike Toole Show takes a look at the three incarnations of To Terra… (or Toward the Terra), originally a manga by Keiko Takemiya. And last but not least, I was very excited to see that the Manga Connection blog has been rebooted! (Which reminds me that I really need to do some cleanup and maintenance on my resources page…)

Quick Takes

Bad Teacher's Equation, Volume 2Bad Teacher’s Equation, Volumes 2-3 by Kazuma Kodaka. While I wasn’t blown away by it, I did enjoy the first volume of Bad Teacher’s Equation well enough to track down the rest of the boys’ love manga. I had heard that the series gets better as it goes along, but surprisingly enough, so far I think I actually prefer the slightly more absurd first volume. I seem to like Bad Teacher’s Equation best when it is being particularly ridiculous. The more obviously comedic aspects of the series work better for me than when the story takes a more serious turn. I was also happy to see the feelings that Masayoshi held for his brother Masami dealt with fairly quickly so that the series’ focus could turn elsewhere. The dynamics of that particular relationship were probably the least interesting in the entire series. One of the things that Bad Teacher’s Equation really has going for it is the manga’s large ensemble cast–their interactions can be very entertaining to watch. And as a result, there’s actually some legitimate character development to be seen, too.

Black Jack, Volume 10Black Jack, Volumes 10-13 by Osamu Tezuka. Because of Tezuka’s Star System, it’s not uncommon to encounter a character from another of his series in a different role. Due to that, I was particularly looking forward to the story “Ashes and Diamonds” collected in the tenth volume of Black Jack because it features Hyakkimaru in the role of Dr. Hyakki. (Hyakkimaru is from Dororo, one of my favorite Tezuka manga.) These volumes also reveal more about Black Jack’s unfortunate family situation. According to an editor’s note in the eleventh volume, the edition of Black Jack upon which Vertical’s release was based was initially intended to be a “best of” collection. However, it proved to be so popular that, excepting for a few stories which were deemed objectionable or inappropriate in some way, the edition became a complete collection. In the past I’ve mentioned that I generally prefer the more realistic scenarios in Black Jack, but I’ve come to really enjoy the more fantastical chapters as well. On occasion, aliens, ghosts, and the supernatural all have their own part to play in the series.

Dictatorial Grimoire, Volume 2: Snow WhiteDictatorial Grimoire, Volume 2: Snow White by Ayumi Kanou. I was intrigued by the first volume of Dictatorial Grimoire. It was a mess, but it was a fun mess. I was less enamored with the second volume, though I do still plan on reading the third and final installment in the series. The story in Snow White is still a mess. This time though, for whatever reason, I found it to be more frustrating than entertaining. So much of Dictatorial Grimoire makes very little sense and Kanou relies heavily on standard tropes and character types. Because of this, the story developments don’t really come as a surprise and readers are left to fill in the actual details themselves as Dictatorial Grimorie progresses from one expected plot point to the next. As might be assumed from the subtitle, Snow White features heavily in the second volume. Sadly, his bustier does not. He does, however, gain a pair of glasses for all of those megane fans out there. (Yes, that would include me.) I also do appreciate that Hiyori, though she’s portrayed as somewhat brainless, is very competent and dependable when it comes to a fight.

Shinobi Life, Volume 1Shinobi Life, Volumes 1-6 by Shoko Conami. Shinobi Life was originally created as a one-shot story but ended up being developed into a thirteen-volume series, seven of which were released in English by Tokyopop. The transition from what was supposed to be a standalone story into an ongoing series is awkward. Story elements are dropped or forgotten (in some cases actually for the better) as the plot is forced into something that wasn’t initially planned. In general, Shinobi Life is a manga that I like much better in concept than I do in execution, although it does improve greatly as the series progresses. I specifically like the time travel elements. However, I’m much fonder of the series when it’s dealing with the past than I am of its contemporary storyline. The art, though not especially original, is pretty, too. All of the adults in Shinobi Life are despicable, so it’s probably not too surprising that the teenage leads have significant personal issues to deal with; their parents don’t make particularly good role models.

My Week in Manga: March 17-March 23, 2014

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My News and Reviews

Experiments in Manga featured two manga reviews as well as something a little different last week. First up, I took a look at Saki Nakagawa’s Attack on Titan: Junior High, Omnibus 1. It’s a rather absurd and ridiculous series, but I was amused. The manga does require some familiarity with both Attack on Titan and Attack on Titan fandom to fully appreciate it, though. Not too long ago, I read Jeffrey Angles’ Writing the Love of Boys which introduced me to the work of Kaita Murayama. Not much about Murayama has been written in English, and only two of his short stories have ever been translated, but I was interested in learning more about him and his work. The result was a Spotlight on Kaita Murayama. (I’m actually very happy with how the post turned out!) Finally, as the actual March Madness begins, I posted the penultimate review in my own Manga March Madness–Real, Volume 4 by Takehiko Inoue, which delves more deeply into Togawa’s past. Real is a fantastic series, and one of my favorite manga.

And now for a few things found online! Vertical’s tumblr often has something interesting to read. Last week’s response to a question about licensing old Tokyopop titles was particularly informative. I enjoy House of 1000 Manga, but the most recent column focuses on Usamaru Furuya and his work, which I’m always happy to read more about. Sequart has a great interview with Kumar Sivasubramanian, the translator of some of my very favorite manga. Gay Manga posted an excellent article about the censorship of a billboard designed by artist Poko Murata promoting HIV awareness which also addresses some of the history of gay artwork in Japan. And in other censorship news, it looks like the manga series Barefoot Gen, after running into some trouble last year, may end up being banned again in parts of Japan.

Quick Takes

Brody's Ghost, Book 4Brody’s Ghost, Book 4 by Mark Crilley. It’s been quite a while since I’ve read any of Brody’s Ghost, but I do enjoy the series. Each installment is frustratingly thin though (each is less than a hundred pages) and only one book is released per year. Once the story is finished, I’d love to see Brody’s Ghost collected into a single omnibus. I think the series would benefit from being read in larger chunks or all at once. Which is not to say the individual books aren’t enjoyable. Each one has a great mix of action, story, and character development. I enjoy Crilley’s artwork, too. I also enjoy the bonus content that Crilley includes, outlining some of his design choices and storytelling decisions. In this particular volume of Brody’s Ghost, Brody is doing everything that he can to track down the Penny Murderer, including impersonating a detective. His ex-girlfriend, who he still cares about, may very well be the next victim and he is desperate to prevent that from happening. Things are even more complicated now that he has discovered that Talia–the ghost who pressured him into the investigation–has been lying to him.

FlutterFlutter by Momoko Tenzen. I appreciate it when a boys’ love manga includes a character who is actually openly gay, so that aspect of Flutter particularly appealed to me. Mizuki is that man–a respected and skilled project leader at his company. He presents himself as someone who is extremely well put together, but that public face is deliberately crafted to hide his weaknesses and insecurities. Asada is one of Mizuki’s coworkers. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to Mizuki. After the two of them are assigned to the same project they get to know each other, first as friends and then as something possibly more as Mizuki begins to drop his guard around Asada. Flutter is a slowly paced and relatively quiet manga, which is somewhat surprising as Mizuki’s backstory is fairly melodramatic. However, that melodrama is completely lacking from Mizuki and Asada’s somewhat awkward relationship; I enjoyed watching it develop. Asada’s personality is very kind and candid and his inability to hide what he is thinking and feeling is adorable. This open honesty is just what Mizuki needs, whether he realizes it or not.

Missions of Love, Volume 1Missions of Love, Volumes 1-4 by Ema Toyama. I’ll admit it, I’m addicted to Missions of Love. I actually began reading the series with the fifth and sixth volumes, but I enjoyed them enough that I wanted to go back and read it from the beginning to learn how the whole mess between Yukina, Shigure, Akira, and Mami came to be. Missions of Love isn’t the most believable series and some of it is admittedly silly, but I don’t think I would enjoy the manga as much as I do if Toyama took a more serious or realistic approach. The story itself might be somewhat ridiculous, but the complicated relationships and emotions are real enough. Ultimately, that’s what appeals to me about Missions of Love–the intensity of the characters’ feelings paired with a plot that can be over-the-top. In the beginning, Yukina and Shigure don’t even like each other which is what allows them to resort to blackmail and manipulation. But as the series progresses, they come to care for and rely on each other in a way that is incredibly twisted. All of the relationships in Missions of Love are like that. I can’t help but want to watch the emotional chaos and turmoil unfold.

The Mysterious Underground MenThe Mysterious Underground Men by Osamu Tezuka. The Mysterious Underground Men is the second volume in Ryan Holmberg’s Ten-Cent Manga series which explores classic manga influenced by classic American comics and cartoons. Tezuka, often called the grandmaster of contemporary manga and anime, has had many of his works released in English. Granted, only a small fraction of his total output has been translated. As much as I appreciate Tezuka’s manga and his importance as a creator, I’m actually much more interested in the work of other classic mangaka who are less likely to be licensed. Initially, I wasn’t even planning on reading The Mysterious Underground Men. But because I was so impressed by the first volume of Ten-Cent Manga, I decided to give it a try after all. I’m glad that I did, not so much for the manga itself (which I did enjoy), but more for the supplementary material–Tezuka’s afterword, in which he describes The Mysterious Underground Men as his first story manga, and Holmberg’s essay which puts the manga into historical context, specifically noting its Western pop culture influences.

Time of EveTime of Eve directed by Yasuhiro Yoshiura. It’s not a secret that I have a fondness for stories about androids, so it probably shouldn’t be too surprising that I liked Time of Eve, a six episode anime series that was first released online. The series revolves around an unusual cafe, the titular Time of Eve, where humans and androids can interact while ignoring the laws that normally separate them. The cafe has only one rule, that there is to be no discrimination between the two groups. Rikuo discovers the cafe while looking into the unexpected behavior of “Sammy,” his household’s android. Along with his close friend Masaki, Rikuo’s assumptions about androids and how humans treat them are challenged as he gets to know the other customers at the cafe. Time of Eve doesn’t break any new ground when it comes to androids and makes good use of Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics. I’ve read and watched so much android fiction that nothing about the series surprised me (including what were supposed to be dramatic reveals), but I still found the anime to be immensely enjoyable.

My Week in Manga: September 23-September 29, 2013

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My News and Reviews

There were a few different things going on at Experiments in Manga last week. First off is the Arisa manga giveaway. The winner will be announced on Wednesday, so you still have a little time to enter for a chance to win the first and eleventh volumes of Natsumi Ando’s Arisa. The most recent Library Love feature was posted last week, too, which is basically a collection of quick takes of manga that I’ve borrowed from my local library. My quest to read all of Edogawa Rampo’s material available in English also continued. This time I took a look at The Edogawa Rampo Reader, which is a nice introduction to his life and work. The volume collects eighteen of his short stories and essays from over a span of thirty years.

A few interesting things found online: Brigid Alverson interviewed Charles Brownstein of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund about its new manga guide which will be released later this year. (I reviewed Manga: Introduction, Challenges, and Best Practices not too long ago and found it to be a great resource.) And speaking of the CBLDF, Keiji Nakazawa’s Barefoot Gen was recently highlighted as part of the Using Graphic Novels in Education feature. Finally, Vertical made some licensing announcements at Anime Weekend Atlanta: Tetsuya Tsutui’s manga Prophecy (interestingly enough, Tsutui approached Vertical directly about the license) and Shinobu Hashimoto’s biographical novel Compound Cinematics: Akira Kurosawa and I.

Quick Takes

Arisa, Volume 8Arisa, Volumes 8-11 by Natsumi Ando. The true King has been revealed! As has that person’s motivations and back story, which are suitably dark and dramatic. Arisa and its characters are all pretty twisted–the King isn’t the only one with serious issues. The most stable character in Arisa is probably Tsubasa, but sometimes I wonder about her, too. It’s not just anyone who would pretend to be someone else, after all. At times Arisa can be extraordinarily over the top with its action and melodrama, but that’s probably one of the reasons I find the series so absorbing. Some of it comes across as unintentionally ridiculous, though. But for every development that’s laughable, there’s another that is effectively disturbing. Arisa is a series that’s really easy to tear through. Despite all of the twists and turns in its plot (or maybe because of them) the manga reads very quickly. With only one volume left to go in the series, I’m very curious to see how things will play out.

Black Jack, Volume 7Black Jack, Volumes 7-9 by Osamu Tezuka. Every once in a while I get the urge to read a bunch of Black Jack. Since the series is fairly episodic, it’s easy to pick up even if it’s been a while since I’ve read any of the manga. There were a couple of things that particularly struck me about these volumes. First of all, Black Jack should really stay away from cliffs as he seems to have a habit of falling off of them. Secondly, since Black Jack is an unlicensed doctor, it probably shouldn’t be too surprising that he would have a tendency to become involved with criminals. Often this works out quite well for him–he is able to demand his high prices and the other parties want to keep things quiet, too. However, on occasion Black Jack’s association with organized crime comes back to bite him and he ends up a little worse for wear. As always, I adore Black Jack as a character. I enjoy how much of a bastard he can be while still maintaining a strong sense of integrity.

Cyborg 009Cyborg 009 written by F. J. DeSanto and Bradley Cramp and illustrated by Marcus To and Ian Herring. Working closely with Ishimori Productions, Cyborg 009 is a single-volume, hardcover graphic novel adapting Shotaro Ishinomori’s Cyborg 009 manga with a Western audience in mind published by Archaia. The comic is in full-color with updated character designs closer to some of the more recent anime adaptations than the original manga. Actually, the artwork was one of my favorite things about the Cyborg 009 graphic novel. Story-wise it would have benefited from either being a little more focused or a little bit longer. As it is, the graphic novel is very compressed and not all of the plot lines introduced are adequately developed. But it is fun and quickly paced, not to mention beautifully presented; hopefully it will encourage readers to seek out the original material. Also of note: the back cover indicates that Cyborg 009 is “Ishimori Universe Book 1.” I know that I’d be very interested in seeing more collaborations between Archaia and Ishimori.

The Day I Become a ButterflyThe Day I Become a Butterfly by Sumomo Yumeka. Although The Day I Become a Butterfly was released under Digital Manga’s Juné imprint, two of the six collected stories aren’t at all boys’ love and a few of the others could be argued not to be as well. Yumeka describes the short manga in The Day I Become a Butterfly as inexplicable (she also admits to not liking them), but I think I would call them poetic. Instead of being straightforward narratives, the stories are quiet and almost impressionistic. They tend to be fairly introspective and melancholy; the desire for acceptance from others is a recurring theme throughout the volume. Yumeka’s artwork is lovely, although some of the character designs seem to be reused from one story to the next. Normally this might not be much of a problem, but because some of the stories in The Day I Become a Butterfly are interrelated it was sometimes confusing when the characters from an unrelated story looked like some of the recurring characters.

AkagiAkagi, Episodes 1-13 directed by Yuzo Sato. I love mahjong and Akagi is one of the mahjong series. I was thrilled when Crunchyroll picked up the anime for streaming. (I hold no illusions–mahjong manga and anime is very niche and unlikely to ever receive a physical release in North America.) Watching Akagi has actually improved my game a bit. It has also taught me how to cheat…not that I would. People who are at least vaguely familiar with mahjong will probably get more out of Akagi than those who aren’t, but it’s not necessary to understand the minutia of mahjong to enjoy the anime. The series can be surprisingly brutal at times and the games are intense–high stakes, crooked cops, yakuza, violence, manipulation. A huge emphasis is put on the psychological elements of the game. Akagi is a brilliant player and absolutely ruthless, both at the table and away from it. He seems to be afraid of nothing and is extremely ballsy. I’m really looking forward to watching the series’ second half.

My Week in Manga: August 5-August 11, 2013

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My News and Reviews

The Boys’ Love Manga Moveable Feast came to an end last week. Khursten at Otaku Champloo did a fabulous job as the host and posted some great content. Sadly, it may be the last Manga Moveable Feast to be held, at least in the foreseeable future. I did have one last offering for August’s Feast before it ended: I announced the 801 Manga Giveaway Winner. The post also includes a wishlist of boys’ love manga. (And speaking of manga giveaway winners, the winner of the Umineko giveaway from a few months ago created a video of the unboxing of her prize.)

Last week I also posted two in-depth reviews. The first was for Suehiro Maruo’s The Strange Tale of Panorama Island. I have literally been waiting for this manga for years and am thrilled that it is finally available in English. Last Gasp has done a beautiful job with the release. The manga is an adaptation of Edogawa Rampo’s novella Strange Tale of Panorama Island which I reviewed earlier this year. The second review that I posted last week was for Isuna Hasekura’s light novel Spice & Wolf, Volume 8: Town of Strife I. Although I had previously enjoyed the series, with this volume Spice & Wolf has finally lost its charm for me.

I also updated the Resources page, adding a couple of sites. Last week I mentioned Deb Aoki’s new site Manga Comics Manga which is definitely worth checking out if you haven’t already. I also recently discovered Seth T. Hahne’s review site Good Ok Bad. I really like the site which includes reviews of manga in addition to other comics and graphic novels.

On to other interesting things found online! Nippon.com has the very interesting article Urasawa Naoki Talks with Top European Artists. The most recent Speakeasy podcast at Reverse Thieves is about American comics recommended for manga readers. Reverse Thieves also posted a review with Melissa Tanaka talking about her work translating Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin. (I loved the first volume of the series and my review of the second should be coming soon.) If you’re interested in what Viz Media is up to these days, ICv2 has a two part interview with Leyla Aker and Kevin Hamric and Comic Book Resources has an interview with Ken Sasaki.

Also last week was Otakon. Sean Gaffney at A Case Suitable for Treatment takes a quick look at some of the recent manga announcements. Vertical has licensed Fumi Yoshinaga’s What Did You Eat Yesterday? which I am extremely excited about. Viz Media is bringing Naoki Urasawa’s Monster back into print in a deluxe omnibus edition. I already own the series and probably won’t be double-dipping, but I’m very happy to see this re-release. Finally, Seven Seas will be publishing Milk Morinaga’s most recent yuri series Gakuen Police. I really enjoyed Morinaga’s Girl Friends and Kisses, Sighs, and Cherry Blossoms Pink, so I plan on picking up Gakuen Police, too.

Quick Takes

Animal Land, Volumes 1-4 by Makoto Raiku. I’m not sure why I was so reluctant to read Animal Land but after repeated urging from a few fans of the series I decided to finally give it a try. And I’m very glad that I did. It took me a volume or so to really settle into the story, but I definitely want to read more. Taroza is a human who was abandoned as a baby only to be rescued and raised by a young female tanuki in a world of animals. The art in Animal Land is kind of strange, mixing realism, anthropomorphism, and just plain goofiness even within the same species. Despite its cuteness, the story in Animal Land can be very dark. It’s also not particularly subtle, but it is engaging. Animal Land surprised me; so far it’s a great series.

Ichiro by Ryan Inzana. Ichiro is a young man living with his Japanese mother in New York City after his American father dies. When her work takes them both to Japan, Ichiro has the chance to get to know his grandfather who he’s never met and learn more about the country’s history and culture. One night he unexpectedly stumbles into an even stranger world. I did find the sections dealing with Ichiro’s real life to be much more compelling than his adventures in the land of the gods and immortals. However, I really liked the blend of story, mythology, and reality in Ichiro and I loved the artwork. Inzana smoothly shifts his style of art and use of color throughout the graphic novel depending on the tale being told in a very effective way.

Limit, Volumes 5-6 by Keiko Suenobu. Limit has been very hit-or-miss for me. Overall, I did like it, but I had a few problems with the story. There weren’t plot holes per se, but significant suspension of disbelief is required. (I’m still trying to figure out how Usui’s bandage ended up on the ground and why no one seemed to hear the helicopters.) But the series had some truly great moments and intense, dramatic group dynamics. The fear that the characters deal with as they struggle to survive is almost palpable. I liked most of the fifth volume which revealed some great plot twists, but found the final volume to be rather unsatisfying. Everything is tied up too neatly and nicely and there’s a fair amount of moralizing.

Triton of the Sea, Omnibus 1 (equivalent to Volumes 1-2) by Osamu Tezuka. I was delighted when Triton of the Sea was licensed as part of one of Digital Manga’s Kickstarter projects. Although I don’t have a particular affinity for merfolk, I have always enjoyed stories involving oceans and other bodies of water. Triton is a merman, one of the last of his kind when his clan is wiped out by Poseidon, the king of the sea. Unaware of his true nature, Triton is adopted by a human family. As he grows older he is drawn into a fight against Poseidon. Triton of the Sea isn’t as strong or as innovative as some of Tezuka’s other manga, but it’s still a solid adventure story. I particularly enjoyed Triton’s relationship with his family and his interactions with humans.

Weekly Astro Boy Magazine Vol. 1

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Weekly Astro Boy Magazine Vol. 1

I was intrigued when Emanga.com announced that they would be releasing an Astro Boy magazine. I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for manga magazines at this point, with the demise of print anthologies. I’ve read some Tezuka, but I’m definitely not familiar with all of his works. The magazine format for Tezuka works very well, because his art and storytelling style varies so much with the titles presented in the magazine, it is interesting to compare and contrast the differences between his different titles in this format.

I haven’t read much Astro Boy before, but the storyline for inclusion in the first issue of this manga magazine is a strong one, as it is “The Greatest Robot on Earth,” where the robot Pluto created to battle all the other great robots that exist, until he is hailed as the supreme robot. This storyline is what Naoki Urasawa used for his manga series Pluto. Astro Boy tangles with Pluto for a little bit, but his creator calls him off. Astro Boy responds to the existence of the new robot by requesting an upgrade of his own power. Astro Boy really displays the virtue of simplicity. The robot designs are so distinct, and the action in Astro Boy is so clear and easy to follow, it makes me think that some of the detail and opaque action in modern manga has really missed the mark.

Phoenix is the next title featured in this magazine, and this is a real treat because I believe some of the print volumes released by Viz are now out of print. The story comes from the fourth volume of Phoenix, called Karma. It is easy to see why Phoenix is often called Tezuka’s masterwork. This chapter featured the story of a boy who was injured just after being born, becoming a monster due to the harsh treatment from his fellow villagers. He encounters a sculptor in the woods and damages one of his arms. The sculptor finds refuge in a temple and begins to reach a different stage of consciousness as he attempts to take up art again. Reading Phoenix itself is a bit of a philosophical experience, as the characters encounter each other in this fable-like story, with stylized depictions of nature inter cut with both action and personal reflection.

The rest of the book is rounded out by shorter chapters for Dororo and Black Jack. It was a bit difficult for me to get a handle on Dororo just due to the small page count. Black Jack, I automatically read with feelings of affection, because the two-fisted surgeon is one of my favorite Tezuka characters. Overall, I really enjoyed the opportunity to read different Tezuka works back to back. It is a bit different than diving into a full volume of manga, but it really gives the reader an appreciation for the variations in art and theme that is expressed in Tezuka’s manga. This is definitely worth checking out if you don’t have an extensive Astro Boy collection and especially if you want an accessible way of reading Phoenix.

Electronic access provided by the publisher

Manga Artifacts: The Unauthorized Astro Boy Comic

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In 1963, NBC acquired the rights to broadcast Tetsuwan Atomu, or Mighty Atom, an animated children’s show that had been a hit on Japanese television earlier that year. NBC executives renamed it Astro Boy and began airing it in September on WNEW, NBC’s New York City affiliate. Astro Boy proved a success with young viewers, prompting NBC to order fifty-two more episodes from Mushi Studios and syndicate the show nationally (Schodt 88).

Two years later, NBC licensed the Astro Boy character rights to Gold Key Comics . Gold Key was a brand-new subsidiary of Western Publishers, best known to consumers for titles like The Poky Little Puppy and The Saggy Baggy Elephant. The company had considerable experience selling its Little Golden Books through non-traditional outlets — supermarkets, drug stores — and wanted to apply that knowledge to the newsstand comics market, then dominated by companies such as Dell Comics.

Without the knowledge or approval of Mushi Studios or Osamu Tezuka, Gold Key hired an artist to adapt the Astro Boy show into a comic. (No artist is credited for Astro Boy #1.) The result was a four-color, two-story issue that used Osamu Tezuka’s characters but bore little to no resemblance to the comic that had been running in Shonen magazine since 1952.

“Gangor the Monster,” the first of the two stories, is based on an episode of the Astro Boy show. The plot is simple: Gangor, a centipede-like robot, terrorizes the passengers aboard an ocean liner on which Astro and Professor Ochanomizu (called Dr. Packadermus J. Elefun in the English version) are traveling. Astro Boy soon discovers Gangor’s secret — Gangor is actually comprised of forty-seven identical robots — and quickly defeats it in a battle that unfolds underwater and in the air. As in many Silver Age comics, word balloons carry the burden of the storytelling; though we see several panels of Gangor in action, most of what we learn about Gangor is revealed in conversations between the main characters:

The second story, “Attack of the Mud People” is original, with no obvious precedent in the the show. In terms of tone and plot, it reads like a rejected DC Comics script: a pair of evil scientists unleash a horde of mud monsters on an unsuspecting city, demanding five million dollars in ransom. (Better still: the scientists have mustaches. They also happen to be identical twins. It’s a trifecta of villainy!) Astro Boy is nearly defeated by the monsters, as their dirt clogs his joints, preventing him from flying. In a flash of inspiration, he realizes the best way to stop the monsters is to make it rain — a feat he accomplishes with the aid of a little dry ice. As in “Gangor,” very little actually happens; most of the story consists of characters’ reaction shots as they flee in terror, or watch Astro Boy go mano-a-mano with the monsters.

As the page above demonstrates, both stories look more like generic Silver Age products than shonen manga; small wonder Tezuka deplored it as a cheap knock-off of his work. Yet for all their flaws, both stories offer a fascinating window into the American comics industry in the 1960s.

For one thing, they attest to the the growing importance of television as source material for comics publishers. A quick glance at Gold Key’s catalog turns up comics based on The Addams Family, Dark Shadows, Lost in Space, My Favorite Martian, Star Trek, and The Twilight Zone. Animated shows were an important part of the Gold Key catalog as well. In the 1960s and early 1970s, Gold Key had a partnership with Hanna-Barbera Studios, cranking out comic book versions of The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan, The Flintstones, The Pink Panther, and Scooby Doo. As former Gold Key writer Mark Evanier explains, there was a standard procedure for taking a new show and turning it into a comic. The first few stories would faithfully reproduce early episodes; after that, the artist was given greater creative freedom to do as he saw fit with the characters:

Chase [Craig, the editor] handed me a pile of storyboards and told me to read them all to get a feel for the property but to write an adaptation of one in particular… Anyway, I was assigned to adapt it and later on if the comic continued, there would be original stories conceived fresh for the comics. As Chase explained to me, he preferred to launch a new H-B book in this manner. The studio had approval rights and the people there could get pointlessly picky about the material…but they rarely bothered looking at any issue after the first few. Therefore, it simplified the procedure to do the first issue as an adaptation and maybe the second. They couldn’t very well complain that a plot taken from the show was inappropriate.

We can see this process at work in the Astro Boy comic as well, with one story based on the show and one story drawn from the artist’s imagination. Of course, no one from Mushi Studios was reviewing the work, as in the model that Evanier describes above; the primary reason for re-telling “Gigantor,” presumably, was to cement the connection between the show and the comic.

These stories also attest to a powerful Western arrogance about the source material; every effort was made to conceal its Japanese origins, from renaming the characters to adding color. More telling still was that Tezuka himself was never identified as Astro Boy‘s creator; NBC was listed as the copyright holder (Schodt 88-89). It never occurred to anyone at either NBC or Gold Key that the very foreignness of the original material — the action-driven storytelling, the frank presentation of difficult issues — might appeal more to kids than a bowdlerized version in which every conflict was neatly resolved in sixteen pages, and no one ever died. For that version of Astro Boy, American readers would have to wait another thirty-seven years.

Works Cited

Evanier, Mark. “Goodbye, Charlie!” News From Me. N.p., 25 Apr. 2006. Web. 07 Sept. 2012. <http://www.newsfromme.com/archives/2006_04_25.html>.

“Gold Key Astro Boy #1 – Attack of the Mud People.” Magic Carpet Burn. N.p., 23 Mar. 2009. Web. 07 Sept. 2012. <http://magiccarpetburn.blogspot.com/2009/03/gold-key-astro-boy-1-attack-of-mud.html>.

“Gold Key Astro Boy #1 – Attack of the Mud People (Conclusion).” Magic Carpet Burn. N.p., 24 Mar. 2009. Web. 07 Sept. 2012. <http://magiccarpetburn.blogspot.com/2009/03/gold-key-astro-boy-1-attack-of-mud_24.html>.

“Gold Key Astro Boy #1 – Gangor the Monster Pt One.” Magic Carpet Burn. N.p., 21 Mar. 2009. Web. 07 Sept. 2012. <http://magiccarpetburn.blogspot.com/2009/03/gold-key-astro-boy-1-gangor-monster-pt.html>.

“Gold Key Astro Boy #1 – Gangor the Monster Pt Two.” Magic Carpet Burn. N.p., 22 Mar. 2009. Web. 07 Sept. 2012. <http://magiccarpetburn.blogspot.com/2009/03/gold-key-astro-boy-1-gangor-monster-pt_22.html>.

Schodt, Frederik L. The Astro Boy Essays: Osamu Tezuka, Mighty Atom, and the Manga/Anime Revolution. Berkeley: Stone Bridge Press, 2007. Print.

Do you know the way to San Diego?

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If you’re headed to San Diego Comic-Con this week, make MTV Geek your first stop. I’ve compiled a list of all the major manga events, as well as a list of the manga publishers that will be exhibiting on the show floor. Planning to attend on Saturday? Be sure to check out The Best and Worst Manga of 2012 session, in which an all-star panel of manga pundits will discuss the year’s most memorable titles.

Tokyopop has been asking fans, via Twitter, if they would like to see more OEL manga. Sean Kleefeld has some thoughts on that, and on what might have been.

David Brothers looks at a particularly good example of Kiyohiko Azuma’s use of body language in Yotsuba&!.

At 2Chan, Shii translates a discussion of changes to an end-note from Osamu Tezuka’s early manga Magic House.

Reviews: Ash Brown takes us through a week of manga at Experiments in Manga.

Dave Ferraro on 5 Centimeters Per Second (Comics-and-More)
Kristin on 5 Centimeters Per Second (Comic Attack)
Leroy Douresseaux on vol. 5 of Bleach (The Comic Book Bin)
Kate Dacey on vol. 2 of The Flowers of Evil (The Manga Critic)
Rob McMonigal on issue 5 of GEN (Panel Patter)
Johanna Draper Carlson on The Manga Guide to Linear Algebra (Comics Worth Reading)
Michael Buntag on vol. 2 of Sailor Moon (NonSensical Words)
Erica Friedman on vol. 18 of Tsubomi (Okazu)

Off the Shelf: Princess Knight

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MICHELLE: As we occasionally do when the Manga Moveable Feast rolls around, MJand I have opted to dedicate this week’s Off the Shelf column to the topic at hand, which this month is the works of Osamu Tezuka. Specifically for our case, we’re going to be talking about Princess Knight, Tezuka’s shoujo manga about Sapphire, a princess who accidentally receives both a boy’s heart and a girl’s heart at the time of her birth, and who, when we pick up her story as an adolescent, has somewhat of an identity crisis while undergoing many wacky hardships/hijinks.

This is my first time reading the series. Whenever Ed Chavez from Vertical would solicit suggestions for Tezuka titles to license, I would always request Princess Knight. I wanted the series so much I even bought a few of the bilingual Kodansha editions. However, when I finally had both parts of the series in hand, I was content for a while to merely gaze upon them, content. And now that I have finally gotten around to reading it, I must say… I’m a little disappointed.

MJ: Well, as you may recall, I certainly had my issues with volume one, and these didn’t disappear when I read volume two. In some ways, I’d even say they became more pronounced. On the other hand, there were things I liked about it, so though I could characterize my experience as disappointing as well, I’m still glad I read it.

Should we get the least pleasant subjects out of the way straight off?

MICHELLE: Might as well. I guess my big problem with it is that it’s supposed to be so groundbreaking in terms of gender identities, but it actually does very little in this regard. When Sapphire has only a boy heart, she’s swaggering and brave. When she has only her girl heart, she’s weak and fragile. True, some of the growl-inducing comments do come from the villains or from those attempting to fool villains by approximating girlish behavior (“I suddenly want to take up cross-stitching and play the piano.”) but I do have to wonder how much of it Tezuka really believes, since he creates a swordswoman character, only to bedeck her armor with hearts and have her proudly admit that she’s entered a tournament to find a husband.

MJ: Yes, this was definitely the biggest hurdle for me as well. While I might have found it interesting to watch a character struggle with her gender identity in a society where clearly what you describe is set up as the standard for femininity vs. masculinity, that’s not really what Tezuka does here at all. Even when he has his chances to challenge these roles, he passes them up. For instance, the big female revolt that happens during the second volume seems to hinge mainly on the threat of the country’s men being left without anyone to clean their homes or look after their children. Even after it’s over, the only comment made by one of the defeated men is relief that his wife will come home and take care of the laundry that’s piled up.

I completely understand that both Tezuka and Princess Knight are a product of their time, but I’m genuinely confused as to why this seems to be held up as a great example of shoujo manga challenging gender roles.

MICHELLE: It seems very likely that Tezuka never intended it to be so, since so much of it takes a Loony Tunes approach to storytelling. Why, indeed, take a female revolt seriously? Instead, let’s play it for comedy by making the men out to be henpecked morons! That’s not to say there aren’t some darker aspects that I did like and wish could’ve been expounded upon. For example, while I don’t care about or believe in the “true love” that suddenly springs up between Sapphire and Prince Franz Charming, the characters set up as romantic rivals are actually interesting and meet tragic fates. It makes me wonder what kind of story Tezuka could’ve fashioned with Hecate and Captain Blood (aka Heinrich) as the leads!

MJ: Yes! Though I actually quite liked Sapphire, at least until she became completely consumed by her weirdly passive pursuit of Prince Franz, my favorite characters were Captain Blood and Hecate. I would have happily read entire books about them. I rather wished that Sapphire would ditch Franz and fall for Blood, but I suppose it was never meant to be.

MICHELLE: And, really, Hecate is probably the best example of a character who defies gender roles, since she’s perfectly happy defining herself for herself and has no wish to consume Sapphire’s girl heart (which her witch mother, Madame Hell, keeps trying to steal on her behalf) and take up some passive, “feminine” identity. She’s independent, level-headed, and one of the few truly good characters in the story. Plus, she can turn herself into a goat!

MJ: Speaking of all the heart-exchanging business, I’d say that probably the only time I actually appreciated it, was when Plastic ingests Sapphire’s boy’s heart, and suddenly becomes a decent man, instead of a selfish, sniveling boob.

MICHELLE: Oh yes, I quite agree! And he promptly begins championing women’s rights! This makes him the second character in the series (after Hecate) to go his own way and oppose the evil schemes of a parent. I wonder if this is Tezuka’s way of saying that the younger generation is going to get things right regarding equality whereas their parents are hopeless.

MJ: That may be a generous assumption, but I’ll give it to him if you will. You know, I think what’s most disappointing to me about Princess Knight is that I feel like I really could have liked it. Tezuka’s artwork is so much fun here, and so full of life. And I’m really fine with the “Looney Tunes approach,” as you so brilliantly put it. I think this manga could have been a lot of fun. But the gender issues are so profound, they kinda take over the whole thing for me.

MICHELLE: I’m not sure I could’ve liked it even without the gender issues giving me fits. The plotting is just so random sometimes. Early on, there’s a scene where Sapphire is letting herself be collected by Duke Duralumin’s men as a potential consort for his then-still-feeble-minded son, Plastic. And Franz rides in from, like, the next kingdom over to rescue her, and then rides back home again a few panels later. Or then there’s my favorite spot of wtf, the scene where Blood quickly escapes slavery by coercing a nearby beetle into chewing through some ropes. Everything’s so fast, furious, and madcap that poignant things aren’t given time to sink in.

MJ: Hee hee, yeah, it’s like that. Is it wrong that I find that fun? Or maybe I find it fun, because the poignant stuff doesn’t sit right. I can enjoy something that’s silly and madcap for that alone, and Princess Knight works better as that for me. Overall, I’d say I liked the silly, unbelievable parts the most. Also, I love every scene that Blood is in. Heh.

MICHELLE: It’s not wrong for anyone to like what they like! :) I’m just hard to please, comedy-wise, so many of the gags just left me blinking impassively at the page. I feel bad for being so down on Princess Knight, because now that it’s over I find myself growing fond of the idea of it again. And though it may not have lived up to its reputation for me, I nonetheless wonder if it wasn’t the origin of certain shoujo tropes, like, say, all of the guys instantly falling in love with the passive heroine, or the contingent of jealous fangirls.

MJ: As disappointed as I might have been with it, I really am grateful to have had the opportunity to read it. It may not be my favorite of Tezuka’s works (or really even close), but I’m quite enamored of his artwork, as always, and even now as I’m just flipping through, I’m struck by the beauty and flow of what’s on the page.

MICHELLE: Oh, I am definitely exceedingly grateful to the folks at Vertical for licensing the work and producing such a beautiful edition. I’m also pleased to note that I didn’t spot a single typo in their text, and found that the translation actually included some rather sophisticated words without any hint of awkwardness.

MJ: So thanks, Vertical, for giving us the chance to experience Princess Knight!

For more of this week’s MMF bounty, please visit the Osamu Tezuka MMF Archive, hosted by Kate Dacey at The Manga Critic!

More full-series discussions with MJ & Michelle:

Fullmetal Alchemist | Paradise Kiss | The “Color of…” Trilogy | One Thousand and One Nights| Please Save My Earth
Fruits Basket | Wild Adapter (with guest David Welsh)

Full-series multi-guest roundtables: Hikaru no Go | Banana Fish | Gerard & Jacques | Flower of Life

Manga Artifacts: Osamu Tezuka’s Lost World

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Reading Osamu Tezuka’s Lost World (1948) reminded me a formative graduate school experience. I was researching George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (1935), when I stumbled across a blistering review of a composition I’d never heard: Blue Monday (1922), a one-act “jazz opera” that Gershwin composed for Paul Whiteman’s Scandals of 1922. After attending its premiere, Charles Darnton, critic for the New York Tribune, pronounced the project a disaster, an ill-advised attempt to transplant the conventions of verismo opera to a Harlem setting. Blue Monday, he opined, was “the most dismal, stupid, and incredible blackface sketch that has probably ever been perpetrated. In it a dusky soprano finally killed her gambling man. She should have shot all her associates the moment they appeared and then turned the pistol on herself.” (Darnton, 11)

Ouch.

The review piqued my interest, however, prompting me to track down a recording of Blue Monday. Judged against Porgy and Bess, it was an inferior work; as Gershwin biographer Charles Schwartz observed, the music was several degrees removed from jazz and ragtime, drawing its cues from Alexander’s Ragtime Band and not The Maple Leaf Rag. (Schwartz, 61) The dramaturgy, too, was weak, conveying little of the Harlem setting. Yet in this early experiment, I could hear glimmerings of Gershwin’s mature style, a conscious effort to bring African-American music to the opera stage. And that excited me.

I had a similar reaction to Lost World, an early, problematic work in the Tezuka canon. First published in 1948, Lost World focuses on a scientific expedition to the fictional planet Mamango, a large, egg-shaped rock that, five million years earlier, had been a part of the Earth. When the scientists arrive on Mamango, they discover a Jurassic landscape carpeted in monstrous ferns, populated by hungry dinosaurs, and littered with powerful “energy stones.” The financial and scientific value of their discoveries, however, soon cause a deadly rift within the expedition party.

The execution of Lost World will come as a shock to readers familiar with Tezuka’s mature style. The profusion of subplots, minor characters, and doppelgangers makes the story hard to follow on a moment-to-moment basis; without frequent narrative interventions from the characters, large stretches of Lost World would be incomprehensible. More frustrating still is Tezuka’s over-reliance on dialogue to resolve plot points and reveal motive, even when that information is readily conveyed by the pictures. (“This is payback for you throwing me into the gorge! You get me?!” one character yells as he pummels the person who pushed him off a cliff in the previous scene.) The biggest disappointment, however, is the artwork; most of the panels consist of talking heads, with a handful of dramatic, but disjointed, action scenes interrupting the steady stream of chatter.

Writing about Lost World in the 1980s, Tezuka conceded Lost World‘s shortcomings, attributing them to his age (he was 20) and the circumstances of its publication. As he explained, the work originally ran in an Osaka newspaper, Kansai Yoron, where the target audience was young adults. The two-volume version published by Fuji Shobo, however, was aimed at the children’s market, necessitating substantial changes to the the script. What had been a romance in the original version, for example, was recast as a brother-sister relationship in the Fuji Shobo edition; anything more explicit would have been “absolutely taboo in children’s comics” of the period. (Tezuka, 248)

At the same time, Tezuka touted Lost World as an important milestone in his artistic development. “I thought that at the very least, there was no other comic book like mine, which was like a novel (albeit a very crude one), and had an unhappy ending,” Tezuka explained. (Tezuka 247) A careful inspection of Lost World supports Tezuka’s claim for its significance; whatever its shortcomings, many of the characters and themes of his mature works appear in embryonic form in Lost World.

On the most basic level, Tezuka employs several of his best-known “stars” in Lost World, arranging them in contrasting pairs. Acetylene Lamp, for example, plays an unscrupulous journalist who stows away aboard the expedition’s spaceship so that he can get an exclusive scoop on Mamango — and profit from the mysterious “energy stones” scattered across its surface. Another Tezuka favorite, Shunsaku Ban (a.k.a. Higeoyaji), plays yang to Lamp’s yin; as in many of his other incarnations, Ban is a middle-aged detective whose blustery demeanor camouflages his basic decency. Both characters are motivated by curiosity, but their curiosity compels them in opposite directions: Lamp towards profit, Ban towards truth.

From left to right: Acetylene Lamp, Shunsaku Ban/Hygeoyaji, Kenichi Shikishima

The story’s two scientists are likewise played by major “stars” from the Tezuka troupe. Kenichi Shikishima, hero of New Treasure Island, leads the Mamango expedition. Dr. Shikishima’s youthful spirit, resolve, and courage are contrasted with that of Dr. Butaru Makeru, a mustachioed villain whose cowardice and opportunism precipitate the disaster on Mamango. While Shikishima resolves to visit Mamango “for the sake of world science,” Makeru hints at his selfish motives for participating in the expedition: “If by some chance we meet with something unexpected on that planet, don’t blame me. Heh, heh, heh!” That contrast is also underscored by their terrestrial research as well: while Shikishima’s experiments are intended to help animals achieve human consciousness, Makeru’s experiments are designed for his own personal benefit, with little regard for their greater social or scientific good.

In later works, Tezuka was less schematic in his representations of good and evil, allowing characters to simultaneously embody both. Father Garai, anti-hero of MW, is a good example of this later tendency: Garai is a good man tormented by dark sexual desires, seeking grace even as he sins repeatedly. Black Jack is another, a character whose misanthropy and greed are counterbalanced by a strong reverence for life. As Helen McCarthy observes in The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga, Black Jack is “sometimes a gentle and compassionate savior, sometimes a cold and unforgiving avenger,” two opposite yet equally human responses to “the inevitability of death.” (McCarthy, 199)

Ayame

Mimio

Lost World also introduces a recurring character type found throughout Tezuka’s work: the artificial life-form. Early in the story, Tezuka introduces us to Mimio, a talking rabbit, and Ayame, a “veggie girl.” Both are the result of scientific experiments: Dr. Shikishima surgically enhanced Mimio’s brain to grant him human intelligence, while Dr. Butamo cultivated Ayame in a laboratory. (Note that Shikishima’s motives seem benevolent; he wants to help animals achieve equal status with humans, whereas Butamo is more interested in making a wife for himself.)

Mimio and Ayame’s quest for humanity is rather baldly presented. In an early chapter, for example, Mimio visits Shikishima’s lab, where a new group of surgically enhanced animals are learning how to think and act like humans. Though the animals’ struggles with language and manners are played for laughs — “Boy, all humans sure do look alike!” exclaims a dog — there’s a definite sense that these creatures’ own desires are being subordinated to Shikishima’s grander mission of animal-human detente. “You’re very being is unique,” one of Shikishima’s colleagues tells his subjects. “Therefore, you should help humans and be a guide to other animals in perpetuum.”

Unlike Mimio, Ayame looks human, even though she is composed entirely of plant material — and that makes her situation more precarious than the rabbit’s. On the one hand, Dr. Butamo wants her to become his wife, threatening to kill her if she refuses to honor his marriage proposal. On the other, some of the characters view Ayame as nothing more than a walking, talking cabbage — and thus a potential food source when the crew’s rations run out. Ayame remains committed to exploring her humanity nonetheless; late in the manga, she and Shikishima have this pointed exchange:

Shikishima: Miss Ayame, surely, you must be surprised to be having so many adventures.You see? The world of humans is full of adventure and wonder!

Ayame: I feel as if I finally understand what things bring the most pleasure and happiness to the hearts of humans!

Shikishima: Well, then, when you return to the laboratory, you should have Mr. Butamo teach you even more, shouldn’t you?

In Mimio and Ayame, it’s not hard to see the inspiration for later characters such as Dororo‘s Hyakkimaru and Black Jack‘s Pinoko, both of whom struggle to reconcile the circumstances of their “birth” with their desire to be fully human.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Lost World is the final act, in which an accident permanently strands Ayame and Shikishima on Mamango. In Tezuka’s original version, Ayame and Shikishima embrace their fate as lovers, but in the Fuji Shobo edition, Tezuka portrayed them as brother and sister. Nonetheless, Tezuka left the final words of the original intact, speculating that in five million years, “when Mamango once again approaches the Earth,” mankind might find a new race of “plant animal people” descended from Ayame and Shikishima.

Similar Adam-and-Eve motifs recur throughout Tezuka’s oeuvre, finding a more sexual and spiritual expression in such mature works as Apollo’s Song and Phoenix: Nostalgia. Nostalgia is a particularly odd and fascinating variation on the theme, as the Adam figure dies early in the story, leaving his pregnant wife alone on a remote space colony. His wife then mates with her own offspring who, in turn, mate with an extraterrestrial life form whose DNA proves essential to rescuing humanity from the brink of extinction. In short, Nostalgia — like Lost World — dares to a imagine a new future for mankind in which other forms of life — terrestrial and extraterrestrial — play an important role in our evolution.

Whether these observations will make Lost World more palatable to a casual reader is debatable; I fully admit that I struggled through its 246 pages, backtracking frequently in a futile effort to understand what was happening. But if you approach Lost World in the same spirit I approached Gershwin’s Blue Monday — as a window into a major artist’s early development — you may find, as I did, a work of astonishing vibrancy, contradiction, and interest.

Works Cited
“Bet Lost on First Opera.” New York Times. 21 July 1935: II1. Print.
Darnton, Charles. “George White’s Scandals’ Lively and Gorgeous.” New York World 29 Aug. 1922: 11. Print.
McCarthy, Helen, and Osamu Tezuka. The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga. New York: Abrams ComicArts, 2009. Print.
Schwartz, Charles. Gershwin: His Life and Music. New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1973. Print.
Tezuka, Osamu, and Kumar Sivasubramanian. Lost World. Milwaukee, OR: Dark Horse, 2003. Print.

Osamu Tezuka’s Lost World

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Reading Osamu Tezuka’s Lost World (1948) reminded me a formative graduate school experience. I was researching George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (1935), when I stumbled across a blistering review of a composition I’d never heard: Blue Monday (1922), a one-act “jazz opera” that Gershwin composed for Paul Whiteman’s Scandals of 1922. After attending its premiere, Charles Darnton, critic for the New York Tribune, pronounced the project a disaster, an ill-advised attempt to transplant the conventions of verismo opera to a Harlem setting. Blue Monday, he opined, was “the most dismal, stupid, and incredible blackface sketch that has probably ever been perpetrated. In it a dusky soprano finally killed her gambling man. She should have shot all her associates the moment they appeared and then turned the pistol on herself.” (Darnton, 11)

Ouch.

The review piqued my interest, however, prompting me to track down a recording of Blue Monday. Judged against Porgy and Bess, it was an inferior work; as Gershwin biographer Charles Schwartz observed, the music was several degrees removed from jazz and ragtime, drawing its cues from Alexander’s Ragtime Band and not The Maple Leaf Rag. (Schwartz, 61) The dramaturgy, too, was weak, conveying little of the Harlem setting. Yet in this early experiment, I could hear glimmerings of Gershwin’s mature style, a conscious effort to bring African-American music to the opera stage. And that excited me.

I had a similar reaction to Lost World, an early, problematic work in the Tezuka canon. First published in 1948, Lost World focuses on a scientific expedition to the fictional planet Mamango, a large, egg-shaped rock that, five million years earlier, had been a part of the Earth. When the scientists arrive on Mamango, they discover a Jurassic landscape carpeted in monstrous ferns, populated by hungry dinosaurs, and littered with powerful “energy stones.” The financial and scientific value of their discoveries, however, soon cause a deadly rift within the expedition party.

The execution of Lost World will come as a shock to readers familiar with Tezuka’s mature style. The profusion of subplots, minor characters, and doppelgangers makes the story hard to follow on a moment-to-moment basis; without frequent narrative interventions from the characters, large stretches of Lost World would be incomprehensible. More frustrating still is Tezuka’s over-reliance on dialogue to resolve plot points and reveal motive, even when that information is readily conveyed by the pictures. (“This is payback for you throwing me into the gorge! You get me?!” one character yells as he pummels the person who pushed him off a cliff in the previous scene.) The biggest disappointment, however, is the artwork; most of the panels consist of talking heads, with a handful of dramatic, but disjointed, action scenes interrupting the steady stream of chatter.

Writing about Lost World in the 1980s, Tezuka conceded Lost World‘s shortcomings, attributing them to his age (he was 20) and the circumstances of its publication. As he explained, the work originally ran in an Osaka newspaper, Kansai Yoron, where the target audience was young adults. The two-volume version published by Fuji Shobo, however, was aimed at the children’s market, necessitating substantial changes to the the script. What had been a romance in the original version, for example, was recast as a brother-sister relationship in the Fuji Shobo edition; anything more explicit would have been “absolutely taboo in children’s comics” of the period. (Tezuka, 248)

At the same time, Tezuka touted Lost World as an important milestone in his artistic development. “I thought that at the very least, there was no other comic book like mine, which was like a novel (albeit a very crude one), and had an unhappy ending,” Tezuka explained. (Tezuka 247) A careful inspection of Lost World supports Tezuka’s claim for its significance; whatever its shortcomings, many of the characters and themes of his mature works appear in embryonic form in Lost World.

On the most basic level, Tezuka employs several of his best-known “stars” in Lost World, arranging them in contrasting pairs. Acetylene Lamp, for example, plays an unscrupulous journalist who stows away aboard the expedition’s spaceship so that he can get an exclusive scoop on Mamango — and profit from the mysterious “energy stones” scattered across its surface. Another Tezuka favorite, Shunsaku Ban (a.k.a. Higeoyaji), plays yang to Lamp’s yin; as in many of his other incarnations, Ban is a middle-aged detective whose blustery demeanor camouflages his basic decency. Both characters are motivated by curiosity, but their curiosity compels them in opposite directions: Lamp towards profit, Ban towards truth.

From left to right: Acetylene Lamp, Shunsaku Ban/Hygeoyaji, Kenichi Shikishima

The story’s two scientists are likewise played by major “stars” from the Tezuka troupe. Kenichi Shikishima, hero of New Treasure Island, leads the Mamango expedition. Dr. Shikishima’s youthful spirit, resolve, and courage are contrasted with that of Dr. Butaru Makeru, a mustachioed villain whose cowardice and opportunism precipitate the disaster on Mamango. While Shikishima resolves to visit Mamango “for the sake of world science,” Makeru hints at his selfish motives for participating in the expedition: “If by some chance we meet with something unexpected on that planet, don’t blame me. Heh, heh, heh!” That contrast is also underscored by their terrestrial research as well: while Shikishima’s experiments are intended to help animals achieve human consciousness, Makeru’s experiments are designed for his own personal benefit, with little regard for their greater social or scientific good.

In later works, Tezuka was less schematic in his representations of good and evil, allowing characters to simultaneously embody both. Father Garai, anti-hero of MW, is a good example of this later tendency: Garai is a good man tormented by dark sexual desires, seeking grace even as he sins repeatedly. Black Jack is another, a character whose misanthropy and greed are counterbalanced by a strong reverence for life. As Helen McCarthy observes in The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga, Black Jack is “sometimes a gentle and compassionate savior, sometimes a cold and unforgiving avenger,” two opposite yet equally human responses to “the inevitability of death.” (McCarthy, 199)

Ayame

Mimio

Lost World also introduces a recurring character type found throughout Tezuka’s work: the artificial life-form. Early in the story, Tezuka introduces us to Mimio, a talking rabbit, and Ayame, a “veggie girl.” Both are the result of scientific experiments: Dr. Shikishima surgically enhanced Mimio’s brain to grant him human intelligence, while Dr. Butamo cultivated Ayame in a laboratory. (Note that Shikishima’s motives seem benevolent; he wants to help animals achieve equal status with humans, whereas Butamo is more interested in making a wife for himself.)

Mimio and Ayame’s quest for humanity is rather baldly presented. In an early chapter, for example, Mimio visits Shikishima’s lab, where a new group of surgically enhanced animals are learning how to think and act like humans. Though the animals’ struggles with language and manners are played for laughs — “Boy, all humans sure do look alike!” exclaims a dog — there’s a definite sense that these creatures’ own desires are being subordinated to Shikishima’s grander mission of animal-human detente. “You’re very being is unique,” one of Shikishima’s colleagues tells his subjects. “Therefore, you should help humans and be a guide to other animals in perpetuum.”

Unlike Mimio, Ayame looks human, even though she is composed entirely of plant material — and that makes her situation more precarious than the rabbit’s. On the one hand, Dr. Butamo wants her to become his wife, threatening to kill her if she refuses to honor his marriage proposal. On the other, some of the characters view Ayame as nothing more than a walking, talking cabbage — and thus a potential food source when the crew’s rations run out. Ayame remains committed to exploring her humanity nonetheless; late in the manga, she and Shikishima have this pointed exchange:

Shikishima: Miss Ayame, surely, you must be surprised to be having so many adventures.You see? The world of humans is full of adventure and wonder!

Ayame: I feel as if I finally understand what things bring the most pleasure and happiness to the hearts of humans!

Shikishima: Well, then, when you return to the laboratory, you should have Mr. Butamo teach you even more, shouldn’t you?

In Mimio and Ayame, it’s not hard to see the inspiration for later characters such as Dororo‘s Hyakkimaru and Black Jack‘s Pinoko, both of whom struggle to reconcile the circumstances of their “birth” with their desire to be fully human.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Lost World is the final act, in which an accident permanently strands Ayame and Shikishima on Mamango. In Tezuka’s original version, Ayame and Shikishima embrace their fate as lovers, but in the Fuji Shobo edition, Tezuka portrayed them as brother and sister. Nonetheless, Tezuka left the final words of the original intact, speculating that in five million years, “when Mamango once again approaches the Earth,” mankind might find a new race of “plant animal people” descended from Ayame and Shikishima.

Similar Adam-and-Eve motifs recur throughout Tezuka’s oeuvre, finding a more sexual and spiritual expression in such mature works as Apollo’s Song and Phoenix: Nostalgia. Nostalgia is a particularly odd and fascinating variation on the theme, as the Adam figure dies early in the story, leaving his pregnant wife alone on a remote space colony. His wife then mates with her own offspring who, in turn, mate with an extraterrestrial life form whose DNA proves essential to rescuing humanity from the brink of extinction. In short, Nostalgia — like Lost World — dares to a imagine a new future for mankind in which other forms of life — terrestrial and extraterrestrial — play an important role in our evolution.

Whether these observations will make Lost World more palatable to a casual reader is debatable; I fully admit that I struggled through its 246 pages, backtracking frequently in a futile effort to understand what was happening. But if you approach Lost World in the same spirit I approached Gershwin’s Blue Monday — as a window into a major artist’s early development — you may find, as I did, a work of astonishing vibrancy, contradiction, and interest.

Works Cited
“Bet Lost on First Opera.” New York Times. 21 July 1935: II1. Print.
Darnton, Charles. “George White’s Scandals’ Lively and Gorgeous.” New York World 29 Aug. 1922: 11. Print.
McCarthy, Helen, and Osamu Tezuka. The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga. New York: Abrams ComicArts, 2009. Print.
Schwartz, Charles. Gershwin: His Life and Music. New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1973. Print.
Tezuka, Osamu, and Kumar Sivasubramanian. Lost World. Milwaukee, OR: Dark Horse, 2003. Print.

MMF: An Introduction to Osamu Tezuka

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February 9, 2012 marked the twenty-third anniversary of Osamu Tezuka’s death. His career in the manga industry spanned five decades, from the early days of the akahon market to the industry’s zenith, when comics accounted for nearly 40% of all books sold in Japan. Over the course of his life, Tezuka produced more than 150,000 pages of manga; created such iconic characters as Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion, and Black Jack; launched a manga magazine and an animation studio; and mentored such artists as Hiroshi Fujimoto and Shotaro Ishimonori. The extent of Tezuka’s influence on Japanese visual culture is hard to understate; few modern creators have had such a profound impact on the medium in which they worked.

In Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga (1996), Frederik L. Schodt argues that Tezuka’s most important legacy was the story comic, “an intricate novelistic format” that anticipated the long-running stories in Weekly Shonen Jump, Morning, and Nakayoshi (234). Tezuka’s first story comics — New Treasure Island (1947), Jungle Emperor (1950-54), Astro Boy (1952-68), Princess Knight (1953-56) — were aimed at children, but his later work demonstrated that the format was well-suited to exploring adult themes, too.

Tezuka also pioneered a new way of drawing stories. As Schodt explains, Tezuka borrowed techniques from Walt Disney films “to create a sense of motion with his page layouts” — in essence, to bring the movie-going experience to the printed page (235). Tezuka’s example proved exceptionally powerful; the dynamic, visually-driven storytelling of Astro Boy and New Treasure Island continue to influence contemporary artists, especially in the world of shonen manga.

Tezuka would have been pleased, I think, to see how widely his stories are being read today, both in Japan and throughout Asia, the Americas, and Europe. In the United States alone, eighteen of Tezuka’s manga have been adapted for English-speaking audiences, Astro Boy, Black Jack (1973-83), and Phoenix (1956-89) among them.

Through these translations, I’ve developed a complicated relationship with Tezuka’s work. I love his art: his fluid layouts, his brilliant caricatures, his tripped-out dream sequences, and Freudian sex scenes. I also love his ambition: many of his stories — especially from the later stages of his career — have the sweep and social conscience of a Tolstoy novel, but the lurid, trashy soul of a Brian DePalma thriller.

Whenever I read one of Tezuka’s books, however, I’m reminded of the social, cultural, and temporal distance between his world and mine, even when I’m engrossed in the story and invested in the characters. Reading Swallowing the Earth (1968), for example, I was confronted by images that upset me. As a feminist, I winced at Tezuka’s depiction of Polynesian women as Hottentot Venuses, libidinous monsters with enormous lips and grotesquely rounded bodies. As an American, I struggled through Earth‘s racial warfare subplot with a mixture of dismay and horror: how could someone as fundamentally humane as Tezuka unwittingly tap into white supremacist fantasy when dramatizing the injustice of segregation?

Even when it infuriates me — as passages in Apollo’s Song (1970), Ayako (1972-73), and The Book of Human Insects (1970) have done — I’m still irresistibly drawn to his work. I admire Tezuka’s willingness to wrestle with the dark side of human nature, to create heroes and villains of genuine moral complexity. I also admire Tezuka’s playful side: his tendency to break the fourth wall, write himself into stories, bestow Dickensian names on his characters, and draw elaborate crowd scenes that would have made Busby Berkeley green with envy.

In the last ten years, there’s been an explosion of English-language articles and books aimed at readers like me, fans who recognize Tezuka’s important role in shaping the modern anime and manga industries, but want to learn more about his life, career, and artistic process. Helen McCarthy’s The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga (2009) is an excellent example of this trend; though she meticulously explains Tezuka’s star system and elucidates recurring themes in his work, she argues that Tezuka was “first and foremost a maker of popular entertainment,” and should be understood as such.

The complexity and size of Tezuka’s oeuvre has inspired American scholars to write about him as well. Flip through a volume of Mechademia, or browse the Asian Studies aisle at your local bookstore, and you’ll find scholars writing about Tezuka’s artistic legacy from a variety of perspectives. Some of these works — such as Natsu Onoda Power’s God of Comics: Osamu Tezuka and the Creation of Post-WWII Manga (2009) — make a conscious effort to bridge the gap between Ivory Tower and fandom, while others are clearly intended for academic audiences.

The goal of this month’s Manga Movable Feast is to create a space where all of Tezuka’s admirers — fans, critics, and scholars — can interact, sharing their reactions to his work, assessing his artistic legacy, reviewing titles new and old, and engaging with the messier, more problematic aspects of his work. Anyone can contribute: all you need to do is send me a link to a Tezuka-themed essay, podcast, or review, and I’ll feature it in one of my daily round-ups. (Email or Twitter are the best way to submit links; Twitter submissions should be directed to @manga_critic.) Note that the feast runs from today (Sunday, February 19th) through Saturday, February 25th. For more information, please visit the Osamu Tezuka MMF archive.

This is an expanded version of an essay that appeared at The Manga Critic on 12/14/10.

An Introduction to Osamu Tezuka

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February 9, 2012 marked the twenty-third anniversary of Osamu Tezuka’s death. His career in the manga industry spanned five decades, from the early days of the akahon market to the industry’s zenith, when comics accounted for nearly 40% of all books sold in Japan. Over the course of his life, Tezuka produced more than 150,000 pages of manga; created such iconic characters as Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion, and Black Jack; launched a manga magazine and an animation studio; and mentored such artists as Hiroshi Fujimoto and Shotaro Ishimonori. The extent of Tezuka’s influence on Japanese visual culture is hard to understate; few modern creators have had such a profound impact on the medium in which they worked.

In Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga (1996), Frederik L. Schodt argues that Tezuka’s most important legacy was the story comic, “an intricate novelistic format” that anticipated the long-running stories in Weekly Shonen Jump, Morning, and Nakayoshi (234). Tezuka’s first story comics — New Treasure Island (1947), Jungle Emperor (1950-54), Astro Boy (1952-68), Princess Knight (1953-56) — were aimed at children, but his later work demonstrated that the format was well-suited to exploring adult themes, too.

Tezuka also pioneered a new way of drawing stories. As Schodt explains, Tezuka borrowed techniques from Walt Disney films “to create a sense of motion with his page layouts” — in essence, to bring the movie-going experience to the printed page (235). Tezuka’s example proved exceptionally powerful; the dynamic, visually-driven storytelling of Astro Boy and New Treasure Island continue to influence contemporary artists, especially in the world of shonen manga.

Tezuka would have been pleased, I think, to see how widely his stories are being read today, both in Japan and throughout Asia, the Americas, and Europe. In the United States alone, eighteen of Tezuka’s manga have been adapted for English-speaking audiences, Astro Boy, Black Jack (1973-83), and Phoenix (1956-89) among them.

Through these translations, I’ve developed a complicated relationship with Tezuka’s work. I love his art: his fluid layouts, his brilliant caricatures, his tripped-out dream sequences, and Freudian sex scenes. I also love his ambition: many of his stories — especially from the later stages of his career — have the sweep and social conscience of a Tolstoy novel, but the lurid, trashy soul of a Brian DePalma thriller.

Whenever I read one of Tezuka’s books, however, I’m reminded of the social, cultural, and temporal distance between his world and mine, even when I’m engrossed in the story and invested in the characters. Reading Swallowing the Earth (1968), for example, I was confronted by images that upset me. As a feminist, I winced at Tezuka’s depiction of Polynesian women as Hottentot Venuses, libidinous monsters with enormous lips and grotesquely rounded bodies. As an American, I struggled through Earth‘s racial warfare subplot with a mixture of dismay and horror: how could someone as fundamentally humane as Tezuka unwittingly tap into white supremacist fantasy when dramatizing the injustice of segregation?

Even when it infuriates me — as passages in Apollo’s Song (1970), Ayako (1972-73), and The Book of Human Insects (1970) have done — I’m still irresistibly drawn to his work. I admire Tezuka’s willingness to wrestle with the dark side of human nature, to create heroes and villains of genuine moral complexity. I also admire Tezuka’s playful side: his tendency to break the fourth wall, write himself into stories, bestow Dickensian names on his characters, and draw elaborate crowd scenes that would have made Busby Berkeley green with envy.

In the last ten years, there’s been an explosion of English-language articles and books aimed at readers like me, fans who recognize Tezuka’s important role in shaping the modern anime and manga industries, but want to learn more about his life, career, and artistic process. Helen McCarthy’s The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga (2009) is an excellent example of this trend; though she meticulously explains Tezuka’s star system and elucidates recurring themes in his work, she argues that Tezuka was “first and foremost a maker of popular entertainment,” and should be understood as such.

The complexity and size of Tezuka’s oeuvre has inspired American scholars to write about him as well. Flip through a volume of Mechademia, or browse the Asian Studies aisle at your local bookstore, and you’ll find scholars writing about Tezuka’s artistic legacy from a variety of perspectives. Some of these works — such as Natsu Onoda Power’s God of Comics: Osamu Tezuka and the Creation of Post-WWII Manga (2009) — make a conscious effort to bridge the gap between Ivory Tower and fandom, while others are clearly intended for academic audiences.

The goal of this month’s Manga Movable Feast is to create a space where all of Tezuka’s admirers — fans, critics, and scholars — can interact, sharing their reactions to his work, assessing his artistic legacy, reviewing titles new and old, and engaging with the messier, more problematic aspects of his work. Anyone can contribute: all you need to do is send me a link to a Tezuka-themed essay, podcast, or review, and I’ll feature it in one of my daily round-ups. (Email or Twitter are the best way to submit links; Twitter submissions should be directed to @manga_critic.) Note that the feast runs from today (Sunday, February 19th) through Saturday, February 25th. For more information, please visit the Osamu Tezuka MMF archive.

This is an expanded version of an essay that appeared at The Manga Critic on 12/14/10.

The Best Manga of 2011: The Manga Critic’s Picks

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The usual gambit for introducing a year-end list is to remark on the abundance of good titles, acknowledge the difficulty in choosing just ten (or five, or three), and comment on the overall state of the industry. And while I certainly debated what to include on my list, I’ll be honest: 2011 yielded fewer contenders for Best Manga than any other year I’ve covered. The dearth of new titles was attributable to publishers’ financial prudence; companies released fewer books, licensed fewer series, and focused on repackaging older content for budget-conscious consumers. And though I selfishly wish that more new material had been released this year, I think manga publishers have done an excellent job of responding to their biggest challenges: a sluggish economy, digital piracy, and Borders’ bankruptcy.

So what titles made my 2011 list? My top ten are below, along with my list of favorite continuing series, favorite finales, and favorite guilty pleasures.

10. Breathe Deeply
By Yamaaki Doton • One Peace Books
Part sci-fi thriller, part coming-of-age story, this engrossing drama examines the relationship between two young men: Sei, who grew up in a world of privilege, and Oishi, a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Both Sei and Oishi fall in love with Yuko, a sickly girl whose incurable illness inspires her suitors to become medical researchers. In less capable hands, Breathe Deeply might have been a mawkish paean to the purity of young love, but the husband-and-wife team of Yamaaki Doton have a keen ear for dialogue; the interactions between Yuko and her two suitors are tinged with an authentic mixture of adolescent anxiety, sexual longing, and braggadocio. Clean, expressive artwork and well-rounded characters help sell the story, especially in its final pages. One of 2011’s best surprises.

9. The Secret Notes of Lady Kanako
By Ririko Tsujita • Tokyopop
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. It’s a pity TOKYOPOP didn’t survive long enough to finish this three-volume series, as it’s one of the best shojo titles in recent memory.

8. Wandering Son
By Takako Shimura • Fantagraphics
In her thoughtful review of volume one, Michelle Smith praised Takako Shimura’s deft use of perspective: “The main thing I kept thinking about while reading Wandering Son… is how things that seem insignificant to one person can be secretly, intensely significant to someone else.” Shimura’s ability to dramatize each character’s unique point of view is one of the reasons Wandering Son never feels preachy, even though the topic suggests an Afterschool Special; we are always exquisitely aware of the subtle but important changes in the way each character views herself, as well as her fears and hopes.

7. Princess Knight
By Osamu Tezuka • Vertical, Inc.
What Osamu Tezuka’s New Treasure Island (1946) was to shonen, his Princess Knight (1953-56) was to shojo: both were long-form adventure stories with cinematic flair. Neither could be said to be the “first” shonen or shojo manga, but both had a profound influence on the artists who came of age in the 1940s and 1950s, offering a new storytelling model for them to emulate. Viewed through a contemporary lens, Princess Knight hasn’t aged quite as well as New Treasure Island, as it’s saddled with some woefully antiquated notions of gender. At the same time, however, it’s easy to see why this story appealed to several generations of Japanese girls: Sapphire gets to eat her cake and have it too, having swashbuckling adventures *and* winning the hand of Prince Charming. —Reviewed at Manga Bookshelf on 11/21/11 and The Manga Critic on 12/19/10

6. Tank Tankuro: Gajo Sakamoto, Manga’s Pre-War Master, 1934-35
By Gajo Sakamoto • Press Pop
Almost twenty years before Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy took flight in the pages of Shonen Kobunsha magazine, Gajo Sakamoto’s Tank Tankuro enchanted Japanese youngsters with his monster-fighting exploits and cool gadgets. Though the series’ propaganda intent is impossible for contemporary readers to ignore — Tank fights the Chinese, who are portrayed in less-than-flattering terms — Presspop’s new anthology demonstrates that Sakamoto’s artistry has aged more gracefully than his storylines. Sakamoto’s work is packaged in a handsome, hardcover edition that includes thoughtful extras: a contextual essay by translator Sunsuke Nakazawa, an interview with Sakamoto’s son, and an article by Sakamoto himself, discussing the character’s origin.

5. Stargazing Dog
By Takashi Murakami • NBM/Comics Lit
Consider yourself warned: Stargazing Dog is a five-hanky affair. The two interconnecting vignettes that comprise this slim volume explore the bond between Happie, a shiba inu, and Daddy, his owner. When Daddy loses his job, his home, and his family, he and Happie hit the road in search of a new life. Though the outcome of Happie and Daddy’s journey is never in doubt — we learn their fate in the opening pages of the book — Murakami draws the reader into their story with an honest and unsparing look at the human-dog compact that may remind cinephiles of Vittorio de Sica’s Umberto D. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 12/23/11

4. Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths
By Shigeru Mizuki • Drawn & Quarterly
In this blistering indictment of Japanese militarism, Shigeru Mizuki draws on his own experiences during World War II to tell the story of a platoon stationed in Papua New Guinea. The soldiers face a terrible choice: fight a hopeless battle, or face execution for treason. Like many war stories, Onwards Toward Our Noble Deaths documents the tremendous human sacrifice of modern armed conflict: gruesome injuries, senseless deaths, devastated landscapes. What lends Mizuki’s narrative its special potency is his depiction of the senior officers; their perverse dedication to their mission turns them into tyrants, more concerned with saving face than saving their own soldiers’ skins. Essential reading for anyone interested in World War II.

3. The Drops of God
By Tadashi Agi and Shu Okimoto • Vertical, Inc
As Oishinbo handily demonstrated, a skilled writer can fold a considerable amount of educational detail into a story without reducing it to a textbook. The Drops of God follows a similar template, imparting highly specialized information about wine with the same natural ease that Law & Order illustrates the inner workings of a crime investigation. At the same time, however, Drops is a delicious soap opera, filled with domineering fathers, mustache-twirling villains, evil beauties, eccentric oenophiles, and down-on-their-luck restauranteurs. Even if the reader isn’t the least bit interested in wine, he’ll find the drama as irresistible as an episode of Dynasty. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 12/16/11

2. A Zoo in Winter
By Jiro Taniguchi • Fanfare/Ponent Mon
Drawing on his own experiences, Jiro Taniguchi spins an engaging tale about a young man who abandons a promising career in textile design for the opportunity to become a manga artist. Though the basic plot invites comparison with Bakuman, Taniguchi does more than just document important milestones in Hamaguchi’s career: he shows us how Hamaguchi’s emotional maturation informs every aspect of his artistry — something that’s missing from many other portrait-of-an-artist-as-a-young-man sagas, which place much greater emphasis on the pleasure of professional recognition than on the satisfaction of mastering one’s craft. Lovely, moody artwork and an appealing cast of supporting characters complete this very satisfying package.  —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 5/28/11

1. A Bride’s Story
By Kaoru Mori • Yen Press
A Bride’s Story, which takes place on the banks of the Caspian Sea, explores the relationship between Amir Halgal, a nineteen-year-old nomad, and Karluk Eihon, the eldest son of sheep herders. Though their marriage is one of political expedience, Amir is determined to be a good wife, doing her utmost to learn her new family’s customs, befriend the members of their extended clan, and earn her new husband’s respect. Kaoru Mori is as interested in observing Amir’s everyday life as she is in documenting the growing conflict between the Halgal and Eihon clans, yet A Bride’s Story is never dull, thanks to Mori’s smart, engaging dialogue; as she demonstrated in Emma and Shirley, Mori can make even the simplest moments revealing, whether her characters are preparing a manor house for the master’s return or skinning a freshly killed deer. By allowing her story to unfold in such a naturalistic fashion, A Bride’s Story manages to be both intimate and expansive, offering readers a window into life along the Silk Road. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 5/24/11

HONORABLE MENTIONS
As in previous years, I had difficulty limiting myself to just ten titles, so I compiled a list of manga that didn’t quite make my best-of list, but were thoroughly enjoyable:

So now I turn the floor over to you, readers: what were your favorite new manga of 2011?