Shigeru Mizuki

My Week in Manga: November 14-November 20, 2016

November 21, 2016 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

Nothing except the usual My Week in Manga feature was posted last week at Experiments in Manga. I was hoping to have my random musings on Ichigo Takano’s Orange ready for November, but the month has been particularly stressful and energy-draining so at this point it looks as though December will be far more likely. Hopefully, I’ll have an in-depth feature of some sort to share soon. I also have my list of notable release from 2016 to work on, too!

There is one thing from last week that I’m very excited for–the most recent Sparkler Monthly Kickstarter! The campaign is raising funds to support the print edition of Heldrad’s highly-amusing send-up to shoujo manga Orange Junk. I greatly enjoyed the first volume of Orange Junk, which I’ve previously reviewed, but the series gets even better as it goes along. Never read any of Orange Junk? Give it a try over at Sparkler Monthly and if you like what you see please consider contributing to the Kickstarter!

Quick Takes

Ajin: Demi-Human, Volumes 3-8 by Gamon Sakurai. For a variety of reasons, while I’ve continued to stockpile Ajin, I’ve been rather lax when it some to actually reading the manga. The eighth and latest volume in English was released relatively recently, so I figured it was probably about time that I finally got around to catching up with the series. In retrospect, I’m actually kind of glad that I had a whole stack of Ajin to read all at once. The manga generally tends to be very quickly paced so it was nice to be able to move directly from one volume to the next in succession. Ajin is best, both in art and in storytelling, when there’s action going on. Sakurai’s fight sequences are tremendously dynamic and exciting. The use of the demi-humans’ immortality and black ghosts can actually be quite clever at times, too. While the series continues to be exceptionally violent and brutal, it doesn’t seem to be as gruesome and grotesque as it once was when the demi-humans were shown to be the subjects of live experimentation. The story can be a little heavy-handed, especially when it comes to government corruption and the revelation of everyone’s tragic backstories, but the psychological elements do tend to be handled well in spite of this.

Happiness, Volume 1 by Shuzo Oshimi. I’m not especially interested in vampires and they seem to have been so overdone lately that there often has to be some sort of extra impetus for me to actually pick up a vampire manga. In the case of Happiness, the additional push that was needed came from the fact that Oshimi is also the creator of The Flowers of Evil, a manga series which left a pretty big impression on me. Oshimi is incredibly skilled at establishing the mood and atmosphere of a series. Happiness is about Okazaki, a bullied high school student who survives being attacked by a vampire only to become one himself. The pacing of Happiness is leisurely, showing only the first few days of Okazaki’s new existence as he struggles to adjust to his emerging symptoms. Given how the first volume unfolds, Okazaki’s descent into vampirism can easily be read as a metaphor for puberty and sexual awakening; it will be interesting to see if the manga continues in that direction. Happiness has an underlying sense of eroticism mixed in with its horror which, at least in my opinion, is exactly how a vampire story ought to be. There is also a fair amount of angst in the manga, something that I’ve come to expect from Oshimi’s work.

Kitaro, Volume 2: Kitaro Meets Nurarihyon by Shigeru Mizuki. I am still absolutely thrilled that more of Mizuki’s Kitaro manga is being released in English. However, I was a little sad that the second volume of Drawn & Quarterly’s new series didn’t include the same sort of bonus activities that were present in the first. Those were fun. But then again, Kitaro Meets Nurarihyon is plenty of fun in and of itself. In addition to an opening essay and a closing set of yokai files by the series’ translator Zack Davisson, the volume collects seven of Mizuki’s short Kitaro manga, most of which are from the latter part of the 1960s although one is from the late 1970s. Generally when I think of yokai, I think of traditional Japanese folklore. However, the term can also be applied more broadly. In Kitaro, Mizuki doesn’t limit himself and incorporates mythology, urban legends, and popular culture from both within and outside of Japan. For example, in Kitaro Meets Nurarihyon, a descendant of Dracula plays a very important role in one of the stories. Sometimes the results are more cohesive than others, but I particularly enjoy and find it interesting how Mizuki is able to meld seemingly disparate elements and traditions together.

Nekogahara: Stray Cat Samurai, Volume 1 by Hiroyuki Takei. Best known as the creator of Shaman King (which I somewhat surprisingly haven’t actually read yet), one of Takei’s most recent manga series is Nekogahara. Story-wise, it’s a fairly familiar tale of a ronin wandering the country, doing good deeds while trying to outrun past tragedies. There are numerous manga, novels, anime, and film that follow a similar premise. What makes Nekogahara stand out from all of those is that all of the principal players are literally cats. Granted, they’re cats dressed in kimono, carrying swords, and so on. Humans exist in Nekogahara, too, more or less as the daimyo, though they are generally discussed rather than seen. The lead of Nekogahara is Norachiyo, a scarred tom who was once a kept cat but who is now living his life as a stray. He is an extremely capable fighter and legend has it that he once even killed a person. Both the story and the visuals of Nekogahara rely on chanbara tropes. The actual flow of movement and action can sometimes be difficult to discern, but overall the artwork and character designs are rather stylish. Nekogahara is played fairly straight, but the characters’ more cat-like behaviors do bring levity to the manga.

The Black Cat Takes a Stroll: The Edgar Allan Poe Lectures by Akimaro Mori. Bento Books doesn’t release very many titles, but the publisher’s books tend to be interesting so I make a point to keep an eye out for them. The Black Cat Takes a Stroll is one of Bento Books most recent releases. In addition to being the first volume in Mori’s Black Cat series, it was also the winner of Japan’s inaugural Agatha Christie Award for mystery fiction. The book collects six largely episodic but related short stories featuring the Black Cat, a young but respected professor specializing in aesthetic truth, told from the perspective of his personal assistant, a female graduate student whose research focuses on Edgar Allan Poe. I really wanted to like The Black Cat Takes a Stroll more than I actually did. I love the series’ basic concept and all of the literary and cultural references found in the stories. Sadly, the mysteries come across as trying too hard to be intellectual or overly academic and their solutions are frequently convoluted and coincidental. In addition to that, despite having a few charming and endearing quirks (such as his fondness for strawberry parfaits), the Black Cat tends to be infuriating more than anything else, misusing his intelligence in a way that is deliberately cryptic and intentionally manipulative of both the narrator and readers.

Kitaro, Vol. 1: The Birth of Kitaro

June 3, 2016 by Ash Brown

Creator: Shigeru Mizuki
U.S. publisher: Drawn & Quarterly
ISBN: 9781770462281
Released: May 2016
Original release: 1966-1968

In 2013, comics publisher Drawn & Quarterly released Kitaro a volume collecting stories from Shigeru Mizuki’s most well-known and beloved manga series GeGeGe no Kitaro. I absolutely loved the collection and so I was thrilled when Drawn & Quarterly announced that it would be publishing more of Mizuki’s GeGeGe no Kitaro in English as part of its Enfant line of kids comics. The Birth of Kitaro, released in 2016, is the first of seven planned Kitaro volumes with stories selected, with input from Mizuki, by the manga’s translator and yokai scholar Zack Davisson. The Birth of Kitaro collects seven stories originally published in Japan between 1966 and 1968, an essay about the history of Kitaro as well as an additional guide to yokai written by Davisson, and an utterly delightful section devoted to yokai-themed activities such as a word search, a maze, and several matching games among other fun challenges.

The tales in The Birth of Kitaro begin with the origin story of Kitaro, a powerful and mostly benevolent yokai boy. (“The Birth of Kitaro” also explains why his father, Medama Oyaji, is a disembodied/embodied eyeball.) The chapter was first published in the influential alternative manga magazine Garo. The other six stories chosen for the collection were created with a slightly younger audience in mind and were serialized in Shonen Weekly and as well as the magazine’s special edition. The second chapter, “Nezumi Otoko versus Neko Musume,” introduces one of the series’ primary recurring characters. Nezumi Otoko, one of Kitaro’s yokai friends even though he is a bit of jerk, tends to either cause trouble or get himself into trouble, needing to be chastised or rescued by Kitaro depending on the circumstances. The other stories included in The Birth of Kitaro are “Nopperabo,” “Gyuki,” “Yokai of the Mountain Pass,” “Makura Gaeshi,” and “Hideri Gami.”

As much as I loved Drawn & Quarterly’s original Kitaro collection, I think that I may love The Birth of Kitaro even more. All of the stories selected for the volume are a little bit creepy, a little bit scary, and a little bit gross, but they are also a great deal of fun and can be rather funny, too. I had actually forgotten just how amusing Mizuki’s Kitaro manga could be; the mix of scariness and silliness in the series is marvelous. Mizuki has a terrific sense of humor and comedic timing, perfectly balancing the chuckles with the chills and thrills in the manga collected in The Birth of Kitaro. The horror and the humor work together to create an incredibly enjoyable read. It also doesn’t hurt that Kitaro is a likeable lead to begin with, and that the supporting characters like Nezumi Otoko and Medama Oyaji, with their distinctive personalities and entertaining interactions, add a tremendous amount to enjoy in the series as well.

Mizuki’s Kitaro manga is steeped in yokai lore which I love. Other readers picking up The Birth of Kitaro may not be as familiar with Japan’s mysterious monsters and phenomena, but the volume is still very approachable and accessible. The stories themselves provide an entertaining introduction to yokai (from time to time even Kitaro must do a bit of research in order to effectively confront and deal with troublesome spirits) and for readers who are curious to learn more, Davisson’s “Yokai Files” are an informative addition to the volume. The Birth of Kitaro is an excellent all-ages manga, suitable for younger readers who enjoy a bit of a scare and supernatural excitement while still being entertaining and appealing for adults. It’s also a wonderful overall package, with fun and games, the manga itself, and background information all together in one place. The new Kitaro series in English is off to a fantastic start with The Birth of Kitaro; I can’t wait for the next volume to be released.

Thank you to Drawn & Quarterly for providing a copy of The Birth of Kitaro for review.

The Best and Worst Manga of 2015

December 30, 2015 by Katherine Dacey

After a two-year hiatus from blogging, I donned my critic’s cap again in 2015. I’ve enjoyed writing my quasi-weekly column, but composing a year-end list reminded me why I stepped off the reviewing treadmill in 2012: mediocre books! This year yielded a veritable bumper crop of so-so manga, titles that were competently executed but otherwise unmemorable thanks to an abundance of generic characters, cliché settings, and predictable plot twists; you’d be forgiven for feeling that you’d read many of 2015’s debuts before, even if the artists were new to the US market.

Lurking among the paint-by-number romances and boy-saves-world titles, however, were a few gems. I’ve done my best to highlight the titles that made me feel something, whether that feeling was love, hate, or a mixture of both. To that end, I’ve included my nominees for the worst manga of 2015 alongside the books that made me laugh and cry.

Best New Series: Yowamushi Pedal
By Wataru Watanabe • Yen Press
You know the rap on sports manga: American readers won’t buy it, and don’t like it. Yowamushi Pedal might just change that, however, thanks to a story that plays well across the nerd-jock divide. Onoda, the hero, is a self-professed otaku whose weekly bike rides into Akihabara have transformed him into a secret Lance Armstrong clone. Though Onoda wants to revive his school’s anime club, his amazing hill-climbing skills and stamina get noticed by more seasoned riders, all of whom convince Onoda to join the cycling team. The series’ races are nail-biting, page-turning affairs, but it’s the in-between stuff that makes Yowamushi Pedal work. Onoda doesn’t just discover a new skill; he discovers a community of people who share his passion for riding and respect his talent. In short, Yowamushi Pedal is a coming-of-age story in which a bike becomes the nerdy hero’s vehicle—pun intended—for self-actualization.

Best New Shonen Series: One-Punch Man
By ONE and Yusuke Murata • VIZ Media
One-Punch Man is the ultimate have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too manga. On the surface, it’s an affectionate spoof of shonen clichés that pokes fun at goofy costumes, over-the-top training sessions, and speech-prone villains. On a deeper level, however, One-Punch Man is a great adventure series about an ordinary but strong-willed individual who sets out to rid his city of monsters, only to discover that there’s a much greater threat to mankind than the lobster-men and were-lions that roam the streets. The result is a sincere, gut-bustingly funny manga that reads like a Silver Age superhero comic, splats and all. (Reviewed at Manga Blog on 6/12/15.)

Best New Romance Manga: Horimiya
By Hero and Daisuke Hagiwara • Yen Press
Horimiya is one of 2015’s most pleasant surprises, a teen rom-com that avoids cliché situations by focusing on the characters’ lives outside school. At first glance, its lead characters look like opposites: Kyouko is the class queen, while Izumi is a quiet loner. When they bump into each other off campus, however, they quickly realize they have more in common than their carefully constructed identities would suggest–a realization that leads to friendship and flirtation. In less imaginative hands, Kyouko and Izumi’s budding romance would be subjected to endless tests–school plays, beach trips, hot transfer students–but the authors resist the urge to trot out these over-used scenarios, relying instead on more ordinary settings for comedic (and dramatic) grist. It’s the perfect antidote to the wacky misunderstandings that drive the plots of Cactus’ Secret, Special A, and a dozen similar titles.

Best New Gag Manga: Junji Ito’s Cat Diary: Yon & Mu
By Junji Ito • Kodansha Comics
Draw a Venn diagram that shows the overlap between Junji Ito fans and cat lovers, and you’ve found the small but perfect audience for Junji Ito’s Cat Diary, a collection of anecdotes about Ito’s beloved pets Yon and Mu. Though the manga’s jokes explore familiar terrain, Ito’s exaggerated reaction shots are priceless, capturing the mixture of love and disgust that cats inspire in their owners. (Imagine Edvard Munch drawing a gag manga about cats, and you get the general idea.) Ito is refreshingly honest about the way animals change the dynamic between people, too; in some of the manga’s most memorable scenes, Ito and his fiancée compete fiercely for their cats’ affection, plying Yon and Mu with toys, treats, and cuddles. Though the prevailing tone is campy, Ito’s obvious affection for his cats helps prevents the Diary from becoming too arch. (Reviewed at Manga Blog on 12/12/15.)

Best Historic Title: Ludwig B.
By Osamu Tezuka • DMP, Inc.
Left unfinished at the time of Osamu Tezuka’s death, Ludwig B. is a fictionalized biography of Beethoven. Tezuka only completed two volumes, but oh, those two volumes! Tezuka draws evocative scenes of Beethoven at the keyboard, using striking visual metaphors to convey the sound of Beethoven’s music. Tezuka also does a good job of capturing the dynamic between Beethoven and his father, revealing the extent to which Johann’s drinking, gambling, and stage-parenting cast a long shadow over Beethoven’s adult life. Purists should note that Tezuka takes frequent liberties with the historical record, creating a mustache-twirling villain named Franz Kreuzstein to serve as a foil for the young, determined Beethoven. If you’re not offended by such creative license, however, Ludwig B. offers an interesting glimpse into Beethoven’s development as a composer, and Tezuka’s lifelong fascination with Beethoven.

Best Reprint Edition: Planetes
By Makoto Yukimura • Dark Horse
Listen up, manga publishers: if you’re going to do a new edition of a fan favorite, Dark Horse’s two-volume omnibus of Planetes is a swell example of how to do it right. The story has a crisp new translation, full-color pages, and a bigger trim size that gives Makoto Yukimura’s artwork room to stretch out. Better still, the new edition collects more chapters in each volume, allowing newcomers to read far enough into Planetes for Yukimura’s episodic character studies to gel into a more coherent story about space travel and social inequality; by the time newbies reach the end of volume one, they’ll be hooked, too.

Best Manga I Thought I’d Hate: Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto
By Nami Sano • Seven Seas
In theory, Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto is a one-note samba: the titular character is handsome, good at everything, and unfailingly logical in all situations. In practice, however, Haven’t You Heard? is the Goldberg Variations of gag manga, taking stock scenes and putting a bizarre twist on them. The secret? Sakamoto is just a little too perfect, behaving more like a well-programmed android than a flesh-and-blood person. His peculiar brand of sangfroid confounds enemies and admirers alike; no one can decide if he’s cool or crazy, or where his loyalties might lie, making it impossible to predict how he’ll respond to each new challenge. (Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 8/7/15.)

Worst Manga I Thought I’d Love: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Part 1: Phantom Blood
By Hirohito Araki • VIZ Media
At the risk of becoming the Armond White of manga critics, I’m nominating Hirohito Araki’s bone-crunching, chest-thumping saga for Most Exhausting New Series of 2015. That’s because Phantom Blood is a prime example of all-caps theater, the sort of manga in which every word balloon is filled with emphatic punctuation, and every plot twist seems like the brainchild of six teenage boys hopped up on Mountain Dew. In small doses, this more-is-more approach to storytelling can be amusing, but in longer installments, the cumulative effect of so much narrative excess is numb resignation; I didn’t feel entertained so much as punched in the face. (Reviewed at Manga Blog on 5/22/15.)

Most Disappointing Manga: Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler
By Shigeru Mizuki • Drawn & Quarterly
Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler is one of the artist’s lesser works, uncomfortably see-sawing between character study and history lesson in its efforts to show us the man behind the Third Reich. Mizuki’s signature blend of cartoonish figures and photo-realistic backgrounds have been deployed to powerful effect in Non Non Ba and Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths. Here, however, Shigeru’s hybrid style is a poor match with the subject; seeing Hitler reduced to a crude caricature makes it all too easy to view the book as a curiosity, rather than a serious meditation on evil. The virtual absence of the Holocaust is an even greater shortcoming; Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler never grapples with the Fuhrer’s most disturbing legacy save for one blurry image of stacked corpses. Perhaps Mizuki felt the subject was too complex to explore in this biography, but it’s hard to imagine any dramatization of the Fuhrer’s life that fails to examine his virulent anti-Semitism.

* * * * *

So what are other folks saying about 2015’s best titles? My Manga Bookshelf colleagues just posted their Pick of the Year, with Ash Brown posting a separate, more detailed run-down of his favorite titles at Experiments in Manga. At the B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog, Brigid Alverson has posted separate lists for her favorite new and continuing series.

UDON to Publish Rose of Versailles; Showa Wins Eisner

July 11, 2015 by Katherine Dacey

UDON may have scored the biggest coup of SDCC 2015: at its Saturday panel, the publisher revealed that it had acquired the rights to Rose of Versailles. UDON will release Riyoko Ikeda’s ground-breaking shojo manga in a 2-in-1 omnibus format next spring.

Shigeru Mizuki’s Showa 1939-1944 and Showa: A History of Japan, 1944-1953 clinched the Eisner Award for Best U.S. Edition of International Material–Asia, beating out All You Need Is Kill, In Clothes Called Fat, Master Keaton, One-Punch Man, and Wolf Children: Ame & Yuki.

At the Kodansha Comics panel, one new title was announced: Paradise Residence, an ongoing series by Oh! My Goddess creator Kosuke Fujishima. The Kodansha team also gave the audience a sneak peak at volumes 16 and 17 of Attack on Titan–both of which will include special extras–and hinted that they might have some additional licensing news at Otakon.

Dark Horse will publish a new omnibus edition of Hiroaki Samura’s Blade of the Immortal. No publication date has been set.

Sword Art Online: Progressive and Tokyo Ghoul lead this week’s New York Times Manga Best Seller list.

Erica Friedman posts the latest Yuri Network News update.

The new omnibus edition of Chi’s Sweet Home looks ridiculously cute. ‘Nuff said.

The Manga Bookshelf gang previews next week’s new arrivals. Over the Barnes & Noble Sci-Fi blog, Brigid Alverson highlights July’s best manga, from Twin Star Exorcists to Pandora in the Crimson Shell.

News from Japan: The last chapter of So Cute It Hurts! will appear in the August issue of Sho-Comi; eleven volumes have been released to date. Corpse Princess creator Yoshiichi Akahito just launched a new “battle fantasy manga” in Shonen Gangen magazine.

The Japan Times has a fascinating profile of manga-ka Machiko Satonaka, whose series Tenjo no Niji chronicles the life of the Empress Jiro (645-702 AD).

Reviews: Ash Brown jumps in the WABAC machine for a look at Sanpei Shirato’s The Legend of Kamui, which VIZ originally published in English in the 1990s.

ebooksgirl on vol. 10 of Attack on Titan (Geek Lit Etc.)
Connie on vol. 2 of Black Rose Alice (Slightly Biased Manga)
Lesley Aeschliman on vol. 64 of Bleach (WatchPlayRead)
Jocelyn Allen on Deathco (Brain vs. Book)
Leroy Douresseaux on vol. 1 of The Demon Prince of Momochi House (Comic Book Bin)
Svetlana Fedotov on Fragments of Horror (Fangoria)
Matthew Warner on Gyo (The Fandom Post)
Connie on vol. 1 of No. 6 (Slightly Biased Manga)
Connie on vol. 5 of Toradora! (Slightly Biased Manga)
Connie on vol. 1 of Whispered Words (Slightly Biased Manga)
TSOTE on The World of Mud Men (Three Steps Over Japan)
Lesley Aeschliman on vol. 6 of World Trigger (WatchPlayRead)
Ken H. on vol. 2 of xxxHolic Rei (Sequential Ink)

My Week in Manga: July 21-July 27, 2014

July 28, 2014 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

It wasn’t entirely intentional, but last week Experiments in Manga ended up being full of Vertical reviews. (And by full, I mean that two reviews were posted.) The first was of Fumi Yoshinaga’s gay slice-of-life and food manga What Did You Eat Yesterday?, Volume 3. With each volume that is released, I fall in love with the series a little more. I also reviewed Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin, Volume 6: To War which continues to delve into the pasts of the characters and the war between the Earth Federation and the Principality of Zeon. The volume also features Char quite a bit. (I’ll admit, that made me happy.)

Elsewhere online, The Lobster Dance posted the seventh and final part of “Revealing and Concealing Identities: Cross-Dressing in Anime and Manga.” Kathryn Hemmann, the co-author, has a nice roundup and summary of the multi-part essay, and Leah has some final comments of her own as well. San Diego Comic Con was last week, which means the winners of the 2014 Eisner Awards were named (spoilers: Osamu Tezuka and Hayao Miyazaki were honored) and new manga licenses from Drawn & Quarterly, Kodansha Comics, and Udon Entertainment were announced. Also, the list from the Best & Worst Manga panel has been posted, with more commentary on the choices planned to be posted at a later date.

Quick Takes

9 Faces of Love by Wann. As can probably be gathered from its title, 9 Faces of Love is a collection of nine short manhwa dealing with themes of love and the meaning of love. 9 Faces of Love is the second volume in Netcomics’ Manhwa Novella Collection series which is meant to feature short works by prominent Korean creators. I hadn’t previously read any of Wann’s works, but I’d definitely be interested in reading more; I really enjoyed 9 Faces of Love. It’s an excellent collection of short manhwa selected from Wann’s work between 1998 and 2005. Most of the stories deal with romantic love, but a few of them also deal with friendship and familial love. I initially picked up the volume for the android story “Automaton,” which happily ended up being quite good. While they deal with similar themes, there is a nice variety to the stories in 9 Faces of Love. Many incorporate science fiction, fantasy, or horror elements while others are more firmly grounded in reality. Some are sweet, some are sad, and some are actually somewhat disconcerting.

All You Need is Kill adapted by Nick Mamatas, illustrated by Lee Ferguson and Fajar Buana. A few years ago I read Hiroshi Sakurazaka’s All You Need Is Kill light novel and greatly enjoyed it. So I was rather curious when Haikasoru announced a graphic novel adaptation, the release conveniently timed to coincide with the Hollywood film adaptation Edge of Tomorrow. (Granted, I was much more interested in Takeshi Obata’s All You Need Is Kill manga which has now also been licensed.) Sadly, I was rather disappointed with the graphic novel. I’m not sure that anyone who hasn’t read the original would be able to follow the comic very easily or make sense of the importance of some of the scenes that were included. For example, I loved the umeboshi eating contest in the novel, but in the comic it’s difficult to realize that that’s what’s going on or why it matters. Romantic elements are introduced at the end more as an afterthought in an effort to neatly tie things together, but it’s a little too late by that point. For the most part the artwork was decent, but the battle suit design left something to be desired. I did like the color palette used, though. My copy of the graphic novel also had a printing error. At least I’m assuming it was an error—one of the signatures was repeated. Though, I suppose that does emphasize the plot’s time loop.

Crimson Wind by Duo Brand. A follow-up to White Guardian, Crimson Wind starts out as a sequel but really ends up being more of a prequel. The majority of the manga explores the backstories of General Sei and Baron Touri and their relationship with each other. Except for his attractive character design, I didn’t like Touri much at all in White Guardian and I like him even less in Crimson Wind. He’s a rapist and possessive, resorting to drugging the object of his desire when coercion and force isn’t enough to get what he wants. It’s not at all romantic even though Sei ends up falling for him. Most of the court intrigue and politics that made White Guardian interesting have been dropped in Crimson Spell; only the dubious love story remains. I would have much rather have seen the tale of how Sei became disillusioned and unhappy with the kingdom he pledged his life to protect. I may not have enjoyed the main story of Crimson Wind, however I really liked the short side story “Never Ever” which concludes the volume and features two completely different character who actually care for and respect each other.

Showa: A History of Japan, 1939-1944 by Shigeru Mizuki. With this volume of Showa: A History of Japan the manga begins to cover history that I’m a little more familiar with—the Pacific War. While the factual recounting of the events that led up to the war and the war itself is well told, what makes the series particularly engaging is the incorporation of Mizuki’s own experiences as a student and eventually as a drafted soldier during the time period. The artwork in Showa: A History of Japan easily slips between photorealism and more stylized drawings to very good effect. Mizuki’s illustrations of naval and sea battles are particularly impressive and he uses some very interesting two-page layouts for many of them. He conveys the reality of war but doesn’t glorify it or the numerous deaths, treating the combatants of both sides of the conflict with respect. Mizuki’s Eisner-winning, semi-autobiographical Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths (also available from Drawn & Quarterly), which deals with a similar time period and story, makes an excellent companion to this volume of Showa: A History of Japan.

Terra Formars, Volume 1 written by Yu Sasuga and illustrated by Ken-ichi Tachibana. I have a peculiar love for Mars, and so when a manga has anything to do with the planet, however slight, it immediately catches my attention. I was looking forward to Terra Formars and really liked its basic premise. Efforts to terraform Mars using moss and cockroaches over hundreds of years has largely been successful, but now humans have a bit of a bug problem to deal with seeing as the cockroaches have evolved into a sentient race. Genetic experimentation has also allowed human and insect DNA to be combined, creating humans with bug-inspired superpowers. (Admittedly ridiculous, but kind of cool.) Terra Formars is an extremely violent and action-heavy manga requiring a tremendous amount of suspension of disbelief from it readers. There were parts of the manga that I loved, like the fight sequence paired with biblical verses about locusts. However, I really dislike the design of the cockroaches (inspired by Homo erectus), and not just because they’re unintentionally reminiscent of racist caricatures. They seem more mammalian than insectoid and feel out-of-place art-wise. At this point I’m torn over the series, but I’ll probably give it another volume or two to see what direction it takes.

Gin Tama, Episodes 50-74 directed by Shinji Takamatsu. It’s been a while since I’ve watched any of the Gin Tama anime, but I do like the series. I was in the mood for some absurd humor and antics, and so ended up binging on the first half of the second season. Like the manga which it more-or-less follows, the anime is mostly episodic. Occasionally there will be a set of episodes that form a larger story arc, but generally once someone is familiar with the characters and recurring jokes it doesn’t much matter in which order the anime is watched. Gin Tama is a series rife with parodies of and references to other pop culture media. (Mostly but not exclusively Japanese pop culture.) I’ve always been highly amused by Gin Tama, but the more manga that I read and the more anime that I watch the more of references I catch and appreciate. My interest in Japanese history has come in handy, too, since there are plenty of nods to historical figures and events in Gin Tama as well. For a comedy series, at times Gin Tama can also be surprisingly touching.

My Week in Manga: December 9-December 15, 2013

December 16, 2013 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

Last week I posted the first review in my new monthly review project, A Year of Yuri. This project will focus on comics and manga with yuri and lesbian themes. For this month’s review, I took a closer look at June Kim’s debut graphic novel 12 Days which was even better than I remembered it being. It’s a beautiful work that addresses the complexities of grief, family, love, and loss.

Also last week, I wrote a post that focused on how to find manga in libraries–Finding Manga: Library Love. The post is sort of a combination of two of my semi-regular features–Finding Manga and Library Love. (I’ve actually decided to retire Library Love, so the post was also a way for me to give the feature a nice send-off.) It’s a pretty long post; if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing, you can always just skip to the quick tips at the end.

As for interesting things found online: The Pew Research Center coincidentally posted its report on How Americans Value Public Libraries in Their Communities the same day I was expressing my own love of libraries; over at Geekscape, Kari Lane discussed yaoi with Jennifer LeBlanc, SuBLime’s editor; and Erica Friedman talked about some of the differences between the U.S. and Japanese comic book industries on Quora.

Quick Takes

Fake Fur by Satomi Yamagata. For a boys’ love manga, Fake Fur is surprisingly realistic in its portrayal of Yamashita–a young man who in high school is just starting to come to terms with his sexuality and homosexuality. The manga follows him as he becomes aware that he is in love with his close friend Kubo and how he handles the aftermath of that realization and his changing relationships. Fake Fur deals with both physical and romantic desire and how those two aspects of love can often be in conflict with each other. In some cases, sex and physical pleasure is used as a replacement for true affection. For Yamashita and several of the other characters in Fake Fur, this is something that is both comforting and heartbreaking. On the other hand, for better or for worse, physical intimacy can naturally lead to emotional intimacy. After all, a sexual relationship is still a relationship. In Fake Fur Yamashita and the others grapple with this, hoping to find love but also recognizing that there is more than one way to be close to another person.

Sankarea: Undying Love, Volume 4 by Mitsuru Hattori. The covers for the English-language edition of the Sankarea manga tend to focus on the horror elements of the series. While that horror is certainly a part of Sankarea, I still see it as more of a romantic comedy than anything else. Granted, it is a very strange romantic comedy with even stranger characters. I like the series best when it’s focusing on the relationship between Chihiro and the recently zombified Rea, which has some interesting developments in this volume. For one, Rea continues to become more zombie-like, her cravings for flesh barely being held in check by her natural inhibitions. However, I was less impressed with the mostly unnecessary scene between Chihiro and Rea’s mother in which she drunkenly and nakedly propositions him. Apparently the volume’s fanservice quota needed to be met somehow. My favorite part of this volume was actually the side-comic “I Am Also…A Zombie…” which is told from the perspective of Chihiro’s pet cat (and zombie) Bub. Bub is the greatest.

Showa: A History of Japan, 1926-1939 by Shigeru Mizuki. Originally published in Japan as an eight-volume series, Drawn & Quarterly’s edition of Showa: A History of Japan is being released in four, two-volume omnibuses. Japan’s Showa era, corresponding to Emperor Hirohito’s reign, lasted from December 25, 1926 to January 7, 1989. In the introduction to the first volume of Showa, Frederik L Schodt describes the Showa era as one of “the most tumultuous, violent, and tragic” periods in Japan’s history. There are actually two intertwining stories contained in Mizuki’s Showa: the factual history of the country as a whole at that time and Mizuki’s personal history as someone who lived through it. Mizuki’s artwork also reflects these two different portrayals of the Showa era. The illustrations range from the highly detailed and realistic, based on news and photographs from that period, to the more free-form and cartoonish. Showa is an informative read. I’m personally more familiar with the late Showa era, so I appreciated being able to learn more about early Showa in such an engaging format.

The World Exists for Me, Volumes 1-2 written by Be-Papas and illustrated by Chiho Saito. The literal translation of the Japanese title for The World Exists for Me would actually be The World of S and M. Though I’m sure it was intentionally chosen, it’s a rather peculiar title for a rather peculiar manga. Only two volumes were ever published, but I get the feeling that The World Exists for Me was originally conceived of as a much longer work. The ending comes very suddenly and very little, if anything, is actually resolved. The series definitely had some potential–I found its use of time travel, destiny, and historical figures and events to be interesting–but the story never quite pulls together as something particularly coherent. It’s a bit of a mess, really. While it can be enjoyable, it doesn’t really make much sense at all. The World Exists for Me was developed by the same creators involved with the Revolutionary Girl Utena manga. Some similarities can be seen between the two series, but I much prefer Utena.

Kitaro

September 6, 2013 by Ash Brown

Creator: Shigeru Mizuki
U.S. publisher: Drawn & Quarterly
ISBN: 9781770461109
Released: August 2013
Original release: 1967-1969

Over the last few years I have become increasingly interested in yokai–Japan’s supernatural beings and monsters of myth and legend. When it comes to yokai manga the most influential creator in Japan is Shigeru Mizuki. His most famous series GeGeGe no Kitaro is considered a classic and continues to inspire others. I was absolutely thrilled when Drawn & Quarterly announced that GeGeGe no Kitaro had been licensed in English. Kitaro, released in 2013, collects stories from the first few volumes of Mizuki’s GeGeGe no Kitaro published in Japan between 1967 and 1969. Also included in Drawn & Quarterly’s Kitaro is an excellent introduction by Matt Alt (one of the co-authors of Yokai Attack!) and a yokai glossary by Zach Davisson, both of which are particularly useful for readers who aren’t familiar with Kitaro or yokai, but which should also be interesting for those who are more knowledgeable.

“It is said that when the crow caws thrice, and the frog responds twice, the appearance of Kitaro is imminent.” Kitaro of the Graveyard, a one-eyed yokai in the form of a young boy whose ways are mysterious and who wields great spirit powers. Generally a friendly sort of fellow, Kitaro helps protect people from more malicious yokai although unscrupulous humans might find themselves on the losing end of an encounter with him as well. Sometimes working alone and sometimes enlisting the help of other yokai, Kitaro’s adventures take him all over Japan, everywhere from its most densely populated cities to its most remote islands and beyond. It is part of Kitaro’s mission to defeat evil yokai. The spirits and monsters that he faces will take all of the esoteric knowledge and supernatural skills he has to vanquish them, not to mention a little luck.

The stories in Kitaro tend to be episodic and vary in length–most are around fifteen pages while the longest could easily be collected as their own graphic novels. Although the stories aren’t directly related, many share recurring characters. The most notable are Kitaro himself, his father Medama Oyaji–an eyeball with a body who resides in Kitaro’s empty eye socket and enjoys a good teacup bath–and Nezumi Otoko–a half-human, half-yokai troublemaker and sometimes friend. Mizuki was inspired by more than just Japanese folklore when creating Kitaro. In addition to traditional yokai and his own imagination, popular culture and more modern kaiju were also important influences. Even monsters from Western literature, film, and mythology make an appearance. As a result, Kitaro is a lively amalgamation of sources.

I found Kitaro to be utterly delightful. Although it is a horror manga dealing with powerful supernatural creatures and featuring some legitimately creepy scenarios, Kitaro is also very funny and even cheerful in tone. Kitaro does seem to gain abilities as is convenient to the story, but it is still amusing to see how he manages to get out of precarious situations. It can be a bit silly at times, and on occasion deceptively simple and straightforward, but Kitaro is also a great deal of fun. Because of its episodic nature there isn’t much plot or character development, but Mizuki’s creations are still memorable. I particularly appreciate all of the different traditions he draws from to create a tale that is distinctly his own. I loved Kitaro and enjoyed the volume immensely. I sincerely hope that Drawn & Quarterly will be able to release more of the series.

MMF: GeGeGe no Kitaro

November 7, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 5 Comments

From the early 1920s through the late 1950s, before television became a fixture in Japanese homes, audiences flocked to kamishibai performances on street corners and parks around the country. A kamishibaiya (storyteller) would pedal from village to village with a butai (small wooden stage) perched on the back of his bicycle. When he arrived in a new community, he would click two sticks together to announce his presence, selling candy to the growing assembly of children. He would then show the audience a series of colorfully painted panels that told a story in much the same fashion as a comic book, narrating as he removed them one at a time from the butai.

At the height of its popularity in the 1930s, nearly five million people attended kamishibai performances every day. There were kamishibai for every demographic: sentimental tales about kittens and orphans for girls, adventure stories about masked heroes and mountaineers for boys, and pulpy mysteries and historical dramas for adults. A small army of artists and writers cranked out new installments of popular stories such as Golden Bat, Tiger Boy, Prince Gamma, and Cry of the Andes, providing an important training ground for such postwar manga-ka as Kazuo Koike, Sanpei Shirato, and Shigeru Mizuki.

A contemporary kamishibaiya performs in front of a butai.

Mizuki’s best-known comic, GeGeGe no Kitaro, traces its roots to the 1930s, when kamishibaiya around Japan performed Hakaba no Kitaro, a supernatural tale about a yokai boy who lived in a graveyard. Though Mizuki didn’t create Kitaro, he was responsible for adapting Hakaba no Kitaro into manga form, publishing his first Kitaro stories for the akabon (rental comics) market in 1959. Kitaro eventually found a home at Weekly Shonen Magazine in 1966, where the editors renamed it GeGeGe no Kitaro. Kitaro proved immensely popular, spawning animated television shows, feature-length movies, and video games, not to mention numerous manga sequels in Shonen Sunday, Shonen Action, and Shukan Jitsuwa.

Despite its immense popularity in Japan, none of the GeGeGe no Kitaro manga have been licensed for the North American market. In 2002, Kodansha International hired Ralph McCarthy to translate a handful of the Weekly Shonen Magazine stories, collecting them in three bilingual editions. Those volumes are scarce — at least on this side of the Pacific — although I was able to snag the first on eBay for less than $20. (Caveat emptor: Some Amazon retailers are asking as much as $345.00 for a single volume of the Kodansha Bilingual Comics edition.)

Looking through the pages of volume one, the story’s roots in kamishibai are apparent. The first chapter, “Ghost Train,” is a classic example of comeuppance theater: after two Tokyo businessmen abuse Kitaro and his sidekick Ratman, the men find themselves aboard a mysterious train whose final destination is Tama-reien (Tama Cemetery). The pacing suggests a story told at a campfire, allowing the audience to savor the word play (all the stops on the Tama-reien line have eerie names), the description of the passengers, and the two businessmen’s growing sense of terror. Though the pictures carry the weight of the storytelling, Mizuki uses an omniscient narrator to heighten the reader’s awareness of sound. “The skeleton-thin attendant blew his flute, and a tram came screeching into the station like a rickety hearse,” the narrator informs us. “The door rattled open like the door to a crematorium.”

The narrator serves another important purpose as well, filling in the gap between images, just as a kamishibayai would have done in the 1930s. Towards the end of the story, for example, the two men decide to leap from the train, rather than ride it to its final destination. Mizuki draws their awkward jump, then cuts to an image of the ghost train speeding along a dark track, barely distinguishable from the night sky and grassy wasteland it traverses. “Their heads cracked against something hard — rocks, perhaps,” the narrator explains. “A wail of agony splits the air, then all was silence once again.” This statement proves essential to setting up the story’s punchline, bringing the men’s ordeal to a dramatically suggestive end that is deftly clarified in the last four panels.

The second chapter, “The Leviathing,” owes a debt to such kamishibai mainstays as Golden Bat and Prince Gamma, serial adventures that freely mixed elements of science fiction, mystery, and fantasy. In “Leviathing,” Kitaro joins a scientific expedition to New Guinea, where an unscrupulous scientist injects Kitaro with a prehistoric animal’s blood, transforming Kitaro into a hairy, seven-story beast with the head of a whale and the body of a yeti.

As in “Ghost Train,” an omniscent narrator plays an important role in advancing the story, describing the changes in setting, and revealing the limitations of Kitaro’s new form. “Kitaro tried to yell, ‘Father!’, but all that came out was the Leviathing’s roar,” the narrator intones. “He put down his frightened father and walked away.”

Vital as the narration may be, it’s the artwork that underscores the poignancy of Kitaro’s situation. Mizuki draws the Leviathing in a dramatically different fashion when viewed from below than when viewed close-up: from the perspective of a human bystander, the Leviathing is monstrous, with an enormous, gaping mouth and short, grasping arms. Up close, however, he’s a gentle creature, capable of frowning, sighing, and shedding tears. These close-ups help remind us that it’s Kitaro trapped inside this destructive body, unable to communicate with humans or yokai; there’s simply no place for a giant prehistoric creature in such a thoroughly urbanized landscape, a point underscored by the military’s brutal efforts to eradicate Kitaro by driving him out to sea.

Although “The Leviathing” may strike readers as a sci-fi romp and not a ghost story, it illustrates one of the series’ most important themes: displacement. In many of the Kitaro stories, he struggles to find a place for himself — and his yokai friends — in an increasingly modernized world. As Jonathan Clements observes,

Mizuki was one of the first manga creators to deal with the rush of modernity, depicting Japanese ghosts largely as peaceful, gentle creatures forced into action by the encroachment of human civilisation on their remote, secluded places of haunting. In particular, he cited electric light as the main nemesis of spirits from the otherworld, giving his stories an elegiac quality that celebrates Japanese folktale traditions, even as he laments their passing.

Readers familiar with GeGeGe no Kitaro from its numerous film and television adaptations may find the bilingual edition a frustrating introduction to the manga, as many of the series’ colorful supporting players — Daddy Eyeball, Catchick, and The Sand Witch — play minor-to-nonexistent roles in the first volume. Readers interested in manga’s history, however, will find the first volume of the bilingual edition a fascinating window into the pre-war Japanese entertainment industry, offering English-speakers a hint of the stories and storytelling practices that once enchanted Japanese audiences on street corners around the country. Below, you’ll find a short bibliography of articles and books about Kitaro and kamishibai, should you wish to learn more about this famous character’s roots.

For Further Reading

Clements, Jonathan. “Spooky Ooky.” Schoolgirl Milky Crisis. 13 September 2010. <http://schoolgirlmilkycrisis.com/blog/?p=1710>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Kobayashi, Kenji and Kelly Yamamoto. “Kamishibai Theater.” Japanese American National Museum. <http://www.janm.org/janmkids/kamishibai.php>. Accessed 11/7/11.

Kyogoku, Natsuhiko. “Afterword.” GeGeGe no Kitaro, Vol. 1. Trans. Ralph F. McCarthy. New York: Kodansha International, 2002. 123-25.

McCarthy, Helen. “Spooky Kitaro’s Sixth Generation.” Suite 101. 6 May 2008. <http://helen-mccarthy.suite101.com/spooky-kitaros-sixth-generation-a52997>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Nash, Eric. Manga Kamishibai: The Art of Japanese Paper Theater. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.

Manga Artifacts: GeGeGe no Kitaro

November 7, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

A contemporary kamishibaiya performs in front of a butai.

Mizuki was one of the first manga creators to deal with the rush of modernity, depicting Japanese ghosts largely as peaceful, gentle creatures forced into action by the encroachment of human civilisation on their remote, secluded places of haunting. In particular, he cited electric light as the main nemesis of spirits from the otherworld, giving his stories an elegiac quality that celebrates Japanese folktale traditions, even as he laments their passing.

For Further Reading

Clements, Jonathan. “Spooky Ooky.” Schoolgirl Milky Crisis. 13 September 2010. <http://schoolgirlmilkycrisis.com/blog/?p=1710>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Kobayashi, Kenji and Kelly Yamamoto. “Kamishibai Theater.” Japanese American National Museum. <http://www.janm.org/janmkids/kamishibai.php>. Accessed 11/7/11.

Kyogoku, Natsuhiko. “Afterword.” GeGeGe no Kitaro, Vol. 1. Trans. Ralph F. McCarthy. New York: Kodansha International, 2002. 123-25.

McCarthy, Helen. “Spooky Kitaro’s Sixth Generation.” Suite 101. 6 May 2008. <http://helen-mccarthy.suite101.com/spooky-kitaros-sixth-generation-a52997>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Nash, Eric. Manga Kamishibai: The Art of Japanese Paper Theater. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.