Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Archives for September 2010

Off the Shelf: Now With Reduced Woe!

by and 13 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with MJ & Michelle! I’m joined, once again, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we take a look at some recent volumes from Yen Press, Tokyopop, Viz Media, and Vertical, Inc.

MICHELLE: Wednesday’s child may be full of woe, but somehow I doubt the same can be said about what we’ve been reading this week. At least not my picks. How about you, MJ?

MJ: You’re absolutely right! I caught up with a couple of universes I’m particularly fond of this week. Shall I just jump right in?

MICHELLE: Jump away; the water’s lovely.

MJ: *Sploosh* Okay! Well, having complained just this week about the shortage of new manhwa licenses, I figured it was only fair of me to give some attention to one of my favorite currently-running series, SangEun Lee’s 13th Boy from Yen Press. This is a series that hooked me early on with its quirky mix of romantic comedy and supernatural oddities (TALKING CACTUS). Though it was a bit all over the place in its first volume, it found its feet pretty quickly and now, five volumes in, it feels wonderfully sure and comfortable in its strangeness.

This is a pretty eventful volume, filled with some serious revelations for several of its main characters, particularly heroine Hee-So and her friend/sort-of-rival, Sae-Bom. What really makes the romantic aspect of this series work is Hee-So’s unyielding personality. Anytime the series seems in danger of becoming sentimental or melodramatic, she brings it right back to earth like a giant bulldozer, ripping everything apart with a moment of brash honesty or blatant self-involvement. She’s a character who manages to be totally obnoxious and still incredibly likable. How can you dislike anyone who is so open and honest about her own worst thoughts and so transparent in her painful attempts at guile? Hee-So is like a cup of tepid water in the ceaseless desert of teen romance comics– flawed, but extremely welcome.

Also, a stuffed rabbit comes to life and chews out Whie-Young for giving him a crappy personality. That’s worth the price of the volume alone. …

Read More

My Man Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse: B-

by

Book description:
My Man Jeeves, first published in 1919, introduced the world to affable, indolent Bertie Wooster and his precise, capable valet, Jeeves. Some of the finest examples of humorous writing found in English literature are woven around the relationship between these two men of very different classes and temperaments. Where Bertie is impetuous and feeble, Jeeves is cool-headed and poised. This collection, the first book of Jeeves and Wooster stories, includes “Leave it to Jeeves,” “Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest,” “Jeeves and the Hard-Boiled Egg,” “Absent Treatment,” “Helping Freddie,” “Rallying Round Old George,” “Doing Clarence a Bit of Good,” and “The Aunt and the Sluggard.”

Review:
It grieves me to award a relatively low grade to My Man Jeeves, because I truly did want to like it, but the trouble is, if I may be allowed to borrow Bertie’s manner of speech for a moment, that the stories it contains are “dashed repetitive, don’t you know?” In fact, you too can write a story just like the ones in this book! Make a selection at each parenthetical prompt and you’re halfway there!

A friend of (Reggie Pepper/Bertie Wooster) is having trouble with a (rich aunt or uncle/woman) and is despondent because said person has threatened to (cut off his allowance/break off their engagement). (Reggie/Jeeves) comes up with a kooky idea to achieve the friend’s desired result and hijinks ensue.

The outcomes of the stories are all different, of course, and usually at least somewhat amusing. The story that varies the most from the formula above is “Doing Clarence a Bit of Good,” in which Reggie is summoned to the home of his former sweetheart, who has manipulated him thither with tales of an excellent golf course nearby but who really wants him to steal an ugly painting by her husband’s father. I probably should’ve seen the end result coming, but didn’t.

The relationship between Jeeves and Wooster is also enjoyable, with Wooster being terribly impressed by the “devilish brainy” Jeeves and occasionally rewarding him for his achievements by casting off ties, hats, or mustaches that have offended Jeeves’s delicate sensibilities. I’m a little sad that Jeeves’s intellect is used primarily for schemes of deception, though, and hope that won’t always be the case. There are a couple of occasions where he quietly works a solution of his own while Bertie is away, and I found those better examples of his cleverness than simply advising someone to pretend to have written a book on birds in order to appeal to a rich uncle with an ornithological bent.

There’s actually one story featuring Bertie and Jeeves that is even older than those collected here. “Extricating Young Gussie,” first published in 1915 and included in The Man with Two Left Feet in 1917, finds Bertie tasked with preventing the marriage of his cousin to a chorus girl. I had thought it was safe to save this ’til later, since Jeeves’s part is extremely small, but Bertie mentioned it a couple of times here so I’ll probably go ahead and tackle that one next.

Demon Sacred, Vols. 1-2

by

Demon Sacred is shojo manga’s answer to the everything bagel, substituting hot scientists, dragons, pop idols, twins, secret government research facilities, and time-traveling aliens for garlic chips and sesame seeds. That such an unlikely combination of ingredients proves complimentary is nothing sort of miraculous — it’s hard to imagine how rock stars and rifts in the space-time continuum could co-exist in the same manga without the whole enterprise descending into complete silliness, but Natsumi Itsuki walks the fine line between stupid and clever with the grace of a high-wire acrobat.

Consider the first three chapters of the series: in them, we’re introduced to Rena, the sole survivor of an incident involving unicorns; her fourteen-year-old daughters Rina and Mona, one of whom has developed a disease that causes her to age backwards; and the girls’ guardian Shinobu, a handsome, pony-tailed researcher who is toiling away on a cure for Return Syndrome and — natch — earned a PhD from Harvard before his eighteenth birthday. Those three storylines alone provide ample material for a good shojo fantasy, but Itsuki cranks up the narrative nuttiness to eleven in subsequent chapters, tossing in a handsome “demon” — in fact, a shape-shifting alien from another dimension — who knew the twins’ mother, and a second, more powerful demon who assumes the form of the girls’ favorite pop singer.

A cynic might dismiss these additional characters as pandering to teen girl taste, but Mika and K2 serve an important role in advancing the plot, shedding light on Rina and Mona’s past (Mom disappeared when they were four) and offering a potential cure for Rina’s condition. Ditto for some of the comic-relief episodes, in which K2 impersonates a real-life idol; if Itsuki always played it straight, the story would seem positively ludicrous instead of charmingly overstuffed. Remember, the opening pages of the series involve a stampede of unicorns emerging from the aurora borealis and trampling a group of tourists in the Finnish countryside. Even Madeline L’Engle didn’t have the guts to try that.

I’d be the first to admit that Demon Sacred isn’t as well constructed as Itsuki’s Jyu-Oh-Sei, a tight, logical exercise in hard science fiction; if anything, Demon Sacred feels freer and messier than her earlier work. That impression of spontaneity stems from the casual way in which Itsuki assembles plot elements, like a chef rummaging through the refrigerator and grabbing whatever looks appetizing. There’s no obvious rationale for inter-dimensional, time-traveling aliens to assume the form of mythical Earth-beasts, other than the fact it tickled Itsuki’s authorial fancy. Yet that kitchen-sink quality is a big part of Demon Sacred‘s appeal; I’d be lying if I denied my pleasure in seeing a character quote from the Book of Revelations, or imagining a universe in which griffins, unicorns, and fire-breathing dragons could assume the form of popular singers.

It’s hard to guess how Itsuki will resolve the myriad subplots introduced in the first two volumes, but the story unfolds in such a feverish, urgent fashion that it’s easy to forgive the occasional narrative shortcuts or capitulations to shojo convention. (See “hot young scientist” and “pop idols,” above.) Demon Sacred may not be the best new manga of 2010, but it’s a strong contender for most addictive.

Review copies provided by Tokyopop.

DEMON SACRED, VOLS. 1-2 • BY NATSUMI ITSUKI • TOKYOPOP • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Demon Sacred, Vols. 1-2

by

Demon Sacred is shojo manga’s answer to the everything bagel, substituting hot scientists, dragons, pop idols, twins, secret government research facilities, and time-traveling aliens for garlic chips and sesame seeds. That such an unlikely combination of ingredients proves complimentary is nothing sort of miraculous — it’s hard to imagine how rock stars and rifts in the space-time continuum could co-exist in the same manga without the whole enterprise descending into complete silliness, but Natsumi Itsuki walks the fine line between stupid and clever with the grace of a high-wire acrobat.

Consider the first three chapters of the series: in them, we’re introduced to Rena, the sole survivor of an incident involving unicorns; her fourteen-year-old daughters Rina and Mona, one of whom has developed a disease that causes her to age backwards; and the girls’ guardian Shinobu, a handsome, pony-tailed researcher who is toiling away on a cure for Return Syndrome and — natch — earned a PhD from Harvard before his eighteenth birthday. Those three storylines alone provide ample material for a good shojo fantasy, but Itsuki cranks up the narrative nuttiness to eleven in subsequent chapters, tossing in a handsome “demon” — in fact, a shape-shifting alien from another dimension — who knew the twins’ mother, and a second, more powerful demon who assumes the form of the girls’ favorite pop singer.

…

Read More

Pick of the Week: 7 Billion Needles

by 4 Comments

It’s come to my attention just recently that since I began this feature only eight weeks ago, precisely every other pick has gone to a Vertical title. But really, who can blame me, when they keep putting out titles like Nobuaki Tadano’s sci-fi series 7 Billion Needles, on sale this week. Here’s a little taste of what’s inside:

7 Billion Needles begins with the introduction of Hikaru, a quiet teen who carefully isolates herself from her peers by hiding under a set of headphones. Hikaru has moved to a new town where she’s living with her aunt, but she’s still thinking about the island she left behind. When, in the manga’s first few pages, she’s obliterated by a ball of plasma falling from space, it seems likely that she’ll leave the world without ever really engaging with it, but in the end she finds herself back at school with no memory of the incident.

As it turns out, the alien entity that killed her did something “unforgivable.” Unable to let her (or itself) die, it joined with her to rebuild her body, but must now reside in her bloodstream for both of them to survive. This arrangement pulls Hikaru into a war other humans don’t even know exists, but more importantly, it forces her to reach out to her classmates, with surprising results.

Inspired by Hal Clement’s 1950s sci-fi novel, Needle, but set firmly in the present, this volume feels nostalgic and contemporary all at once–a dichotomy that is only enhanced by being presented on manga’s standard black-and-white pages. And though the premise is perhaps not quite original, as with most manga, the plot here is somewhat beside the point. The real story driving this volume is Hikaru’s own personal journey and the beginnings of her tenuous connection to the other seven billion people with whom she shares the planet.

Hmmm, sounds like I’m already accidentally writing my review, eh? I’ll put a cap on the rest of it until the proper time and place, but suffice it to say for now that I raced eagerly through the first volume the moment it turned up in my mailbox. For fans of character-driven sci-fi, 7 Billion Needles is a must-read. Pick it up this week!

Manhwa Monday: A Fan’s Lament

by 31 Comments

Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

There’s little to report in the manhwa blogosphere this week, a state of affairs I’ll address in just a moment, but first, let’s take a look at this week’s duo of reviews. First, at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson checks out the September issue of Yen Plus (Yen Press), now available online for the low, low price of $2.99 a month.

Three manhwa titles currently run in the online magazine, JiUn Yun’s Time and Again, JinHo Ko’s Jack Frost, and MiSun Kim’s Aron’s Absurd Armada, a Korean webtoon just recently added to Yen’s catalogue. Of these, Lori considers Time and Again the only must-read, though Aron’s is beginning to please. A few tidbits from her review:

“First up is Jack Frost, a title I haven’t been impressed with over the last three volumes … This chapter follows the routine that Jack Frost seems to have set up. Talking heads, panty shot, fight; lather, rinse, repeat. It would be nice to see that routine shaken up a bit. Many less panty shot and more plot? …

“I think Aron’s Absurd Armada is starting to grow on me. This month featured Ronnie, the girl they rescued last issue … It’s a good quick read …

Time and Again is one of the titles that made subscribing worth it. In this month’s chapter, we get to see into Baek-On’s past … This was the best chapter of the magazine, behind Nightschool. It was rather heartbreaking to finally see the truth.”

On the subject of Yen Press, Charles Webb takes a look at volume three of Jack Frost over at Manga Life.

Aaaaand that’s it for manhwa news this week, which brings me to the whining portion of this post. There’s been a dearth of manhwa-related activity online recently, and with the relatively sparse release schedule we’ve seen from most of the publishers who bring us manhwa, this can hardly be a surprise. It’s been nearly a year since I began the Manhwa Monday feature at Manga Bookshelf, and though we’ve seen quite a few series come to conclusion during that time, the loss has been balanced by very few new releases.

Even Yen Press, whose acquisition of Ice Kunion’s original catalogue has made them the most consistent publisher of (print) manhwa in English, has only begun three new series in 2010–One Fine Day, Laon and now Aron’s Absurd Armada (yet to reach print). Aside from There’s Something About Sunyool, NETCOMICS has been nearly dormant. DramaQueen’s brief revival with volume one of The Summit has seen no further activity to my knowledge. Udon’s series, Apple notwithstanding, remain on hiatus. Dark Horse has begun nothing new. Tokyopop??? And with the exception of Fanfare/Potent Mon’s Korea As Viewed By 12 Creators, the mid-season poll conducted here in June is still an accurate representation of new releases this year.

So what gives? Is the manhwa slowdown just an inevitable symptom of the industry’s woes overall, or is there something else at work?

I know that this blog’s readership consists mainly of manga fans, a group that has not been entirely welcoming of manhwa as a whole. Yet every week, as I search for content for this column, I slog through Google alerts filled with reviews and discussion of scanlated manhwa, so clearly it’s being read and enjoyed. Is it just that nobody’s buying?

So, in an entirely unscientific fashion, I invite–nay, plead with you, dear readers, to respond with a comment to this post if you actually buy manhwa (and if you don’t, feel free to tell me why). And while you’re there, why don’t you take the opportunity to talk about some series you’d like to see licensed!

That has been the end of my whining for the week.

Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vols. 1-2

by 3 Comments

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vols. 1-2 | By Konami Kanata | Published by Vertical, Inc. – Chi’s Sweet Home is the very sweet story of a lost kitten who is rescued by a family whose apartment building does not allow pets. Originally serialized in Kodansha’s seinen magazine, Morning, it is endlessly cute and monumentally charming. What’s immediately striking about the series, however, is how much more it is than just a “very sweet story.”

Even from the very beginning, there is a darker side to this tale. Chi spends nearly half of the first volume trying to get back to her mother, while her tiny kitten memories slip away, bit by bit. Though she eventually settles in happily with her new family, her first days with them are mainly spent in panic, a truth of which they are entirely unaware.

This is a recurring theme throughout the first volume of the series, not Chi missing her mother, per se, but the lack of effective communication between humans and cats. In volume two, this is taken a step further, when Chi meets an older neighborhood cat who warns her not to trust humans too much.

“And what does ‘twust’ mean?” Chi asks.

“To think they’re your kind. Cuz they aren’t your kind,” the cat replies. “I scratch their backs, they scratch mine.”

Not that this cynical tone reflects the author’s intent. It’s made clear throughout that whatever lack of understanding may exist between Chi and her human family, the love is real, and certainly Chi’s innocent acceptance of her humans’ love and care makes her a much happier kitty than her jaded counterpart appears to be. But what’s also clear is just how vulnerable cats are to the whims and choices of their human caretakers, who may not know or care how well they are serving the needs of their feline houseguests.

As a long-time cat owner, mangaka Konami Kanata hits upon one of my greatest worries over the years–that, thanks to the communication barrier, my pet may be unhappy or even ill without my knowledge. Kanata’s message is a reassuring one. Though this may indeed be true, she says, speaking through Chi’s innocent, wide eyes, it’ll all be okay as long as there’s love.

This gentle touch is just what the doctor ordered for overly-anxious adult readers, but it also serves as a real teaching tool for new cat owners, especially the very young. A child reading Chi may even find herself schooling her parents on “what kitty really wants.”

And children will read Chi’s Sweet Home. Published by Vertical “flipped” left-to-right and in full color, Chi’s Sweet Home is the family-friendly manga we’ve all be waiting for. Its tiny feline protagonist is uniquely poised to appeal to readers of all ages, and even very young readers will find its image-heavy narrative easy to follow. Kanata’s simple, expressive art tells her story so clearly, it’s a series most of us could probably follow even if Vertical had printed it in the original Japanese.

That said, I’m glad they didn’t, because their adaptation is truly dear. Though Chi’s cartoonish, childlike speech (based by Kanata on Tweety from Looney Toons fame, according to translator Ed Chavez) might have easily come off as cloying or contrived, alongside Kanata’s jubilant artwork, it’s just plain cute. The language is clear and true to its characters, both human and cat. From translation to paper quality, these books were obviously produced with care. Each volume is a delectable treat for the senses. All warm ambers and sweet pastels, Kanata’s artwork dances brightly over crisp, white pages, within a soft, matte cover that is even pleasant to the touch.

At the heart of it all, though, is Chi. She’s feisty, sweet, surprisingly poignant, and possibly the very key we’ve all been looking for to help bring manga into non-otaku western households. On Christmas morning this year, my family’s getting Chi’s Sweet Home. How about yours?

Review copies provided by the publisher

MMF takes on After School Nightmare

by 1 Comment

The Manga Moveable Feast, in a fairly last-minute vote this month, has taken on Setona Mizushiro’s After School Nightmare as its subject for September. The series, published in ten volumes by the now-defunct Go!Comi, was nominated for an Eisner award in 2007.

I reviewed volume one back in July of last year, and though I enjoyed the first volume very much, I was fairly stunned by how the series developed over the course of its full run. The story focuses heavily on gender identity and self-esteem, using horror devices in ways I’ve rarely found so interesting.

Here are some quotes from my review of the first volume:

Everybody has some kind of secret, though Ichijo Mashiro’s is bigger than most: he was born with a male upper body and a female lower body, something he has successfully kept from his peers for his entire life. Unfortunately, this secrecy can’t last once his school enrolls him in a special after-hours “class” in which he is placed into a shared nightmare with other students. In the nightmare, the students are reduced to their “true forms,” revealing their worst fears and deepest wounds to each other …

The issues of gender identification and sexuality addressed in the series are really compelling overall, though it’s hard to tell at this point just what the author is trying to say about them. It is clear that Ichijo associates being male with strength and being female with weakness which is a significant part of why he is so determined to live as male, but his ideas are being challenged from all sides which is terrifying for him but quite thrilling for the reader.

… The emotional intimacy forced upon them during the dreams really is every teen’s nightmare and though the full implications of that have yet to be explored, it’s something I’m anticipating eagerly as a reader. There is so much rich material here to work with, I can only hope the series follows through.

My response after having read the entire series? In short: It does.

I hope to have something new to offer for the Feast before the month is out, but whether I do or not, readers should head over to host Sean Gaffney’s blog, A Case Suitable For Treatment for both an introduction to the series and links to participants’ contributions!

Let’s Get Visual: Action Edition

by 1 Comment

Every day I’m reminded as I browse the manga blogosphere just how much I have to learn about reading and criticizing manga. So, last month, Michelle Smith and I launched a new feature, Let’s Get Visual, where we let our weaknesses show with a view towards growing as critics.

In comments to last month’s column, David Brothers asked if we might talk about more action-oriented scenes the next time around. Since Michelle and I aim to please, we decided to give it a go! The result? Let’s Get Visual: Annnnnd Action!

With Akimi Yoshida’s Banana Fish on the brain (for obvious reasons) I chose a few pages from volume eight of that series, while Michelle picked a sequence from Tsutomu Nihei’s BLAME!

Before you head on over let me remind you that we’re genuinely looking to improve our comprehension of and ability to analyze the visual aspects of manga, so if you know a lot more than we do (and I know many of you do), please teach us! We’d prefer a gentle touch, but we’ll take what we can get! Also, if you have particular requests, as David did, you can see we reward those who indulge us with comments.

So check out our brand new Let’s Get Visual and let us know how we’re doing!

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Vols. 7-8

by , , , , and 16 Comments

Hello faithful shojo fans, and welcome again to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

This month we take on volumes seven and eight, in which Ash brings his war straight to Arthur’s doorstep and Papa Dino’s bank account, playing both cutthroat businessman and cold-blooded killer, while Eiji does his best just to keep Ash human. Blackmail, introspection, and an epic subway battle ensue.

I’m joined again in this round by Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Khursten Santos (Otaku Champloo), Connie C. (Slightly Biased Manga), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), and Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights).

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, and volumes five and six here. On to part four!
…

Read More

Manga Artifacts: Magical Mates

by

It’s hard to remember a time when the only translated manga featured explosions, monsters, and naked women, but for most of the 1980s and 1990s, manly-man manga was the norm; American publishers barely acknowledged that female comic fans existed in or outside Japan. There were licensed manga with female protagonists, to be sure, but The Legend of Mother Sarah and Mai The Psychic Girl were clearly written for male audiences, as the reductive tagline on Mai‘s front cover attests: “She is pretty. She is psychic. She is Japanese.” (Read: “She might go out with you.”) That began to change in the mid-1990s, when a few publishers made the then-radical decision to introduce manga for girls. VIZ released Moto Hagio’s They Were Eleven (1995) and A, A’ (1997); Mixx made a hit out of Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon (1997); and Antarctic Press, home of Ninja High School and Hurricane Girls, dabbled in shojo with Mio Odagi’s Magical Mates (1996).

If VIZ took the high road, introducing readers to one of Japan’s most influential and beloved creators, and Mixx took the middle road, courting female fans of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers and the Sailor Moon anime, Antarctic took the cheap road, licensing a self-published work by an obscure artist. The fact that Magical Mates reached American shores at all had more to do with who Odagi knew than the quality of her work. As Jason Thompson explains in a recent House of 1000 Manga column, Odagi was a member of Studio Do-Do, a small group of artists that had an inside connection at Antarctic Press: Ippongi Bang, whose friendship with Antarctic staffers helped open the door for her fellow Studio Do-Do artists.

Flipping through the six issues that comprise Magical Mates, Mio Odagi’s lack of skill is painfully obvious. The stories — which focus on a trio of tarot-reading, spell-casting teens — abound in the kind of poorly drawn panels and non-sequitors that would make a Hana to Yume editor pull out her hair. Odagi lavishes considerable attention on her characters’ eyes, rendering their irises and lashes with a meticulous precision that’s fundamentally at odds with the slapdash way she draws the rest of their bodies. She also struggles with backgrounds; her characters often appear to be floating above the picture plane, unencumbered by gravity.

Each story revolves around a romantic entanglement of one sort or another: in “Love on a Friendship Bracelet,” for example, Rinko, Kana, and Noemi help the manager of the boys’ soccer team express her feelings to the arrogant star player, while in “The Priestesses’ Love Letter,” the girls play matchmaker for the class brain and the rock guitarist she secretly adores. Not much connects the episodes, save for running gags about Rinko’s vanity — she vies with Kana and Noemi to be the “star” of the series — and about Rinko’s long-suffering suitor Eiji, a short, bespectacled nerd with an alter ego: The Student President of Darkness, a malicious teen who carries out Eiji’s darker wishes.

The Student President of Darkness gag embodies what’s good and bad about Magical Mates. Eiji’s frequent transformations are the kind of problem that could easily be fixed by logic or a lanyard; the fact that he’s always absent when the President is sabotaging a soccer match or flooding a water park doesn’t seem to register with Rinko or her friends. Yet for all the suspension of disbelief that Eiji’s Jekyll-and-Hyde persona demands, these transformations serve an important function, adding a badly needed element of emotional authenticity to Magical Mates; Eiji’s jealousy feels more real than anything else in the series, providing a reliable source of comic relief and dramatic conflict.

More striking than the stories themselves is Antarctic Press’ attempt to position Magical Mates as a comedy that older male readers would enjoy. Each issue featured advertisements for comics such as Warrior Nun Areala, Codename: Scorpio, and the NC-17 vampire comic Tabou, which had a tie-in with an adult film. Though the covers seem less deliberately calculated to appeal to male readers than the advertising, issue four is a notable exception: all three girls have been given a sexy makeover with super-long legs, savage tans, and skimpy bathing suits that are completely out of character. The one fan letter that Antarctic published — which appears on the back page of issue four — comes from a male reader who complains that he doesn’t like Magical Mates‘ cover art or title. “It’s got that Sailor Moon stigma,” he notes. “I hope readership picks up, and that people don’t get the wrong idea and think this is some sort of bland children’s comic.”

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to fault Antarctic for treating Magical Mates as something other than a “children’s comic,” as its tone and episodic structure seem best suited for young readers. Yet at the time Mates debuted, there was no obvious market for girls’ manga. The Sailor Moon anime was just beginning to reach female audiences here in the US — it was still two years away from becoming a big hit — and American publishers had been neglecting the female comics market for decades. Antarctic made a logical gamble, presenting Mates as a wacky comedy starring three cute girls rather than a wacky comedy written for girls, never acknowledging that Odagi’s artwork, plotlines, and sensibility owed a significant debt to the magical girl genre.

Had it been marketed differently, Magical Mates still might not have found an audience — Moto Hagio, after all, bombed with readers, despite her impeccable pedigree and formidable talent. Yet Mates is significant because it anticipated the kind of shojo that caught on with American girls in the following decade, with its focus on romance, wacky hijinks, and unabashedly teen pursuits, from telling fortunes and swapping love charms to visiting amusement parks.

Readers curious about Magical Mates can find inexpensive copies of all six issues on eBay; note that Antarctic initially planned a nine-issue series, but canceled the last three.

Manga Artifacts is a monthly feature exploring older, out-of-print manga published in the 1980s and 1990s. For a fuller description of the series’ purpose, see the inaugural column.

Manga Artifacts: Magical Mates

by

It’s hard to remember a time when the only translated manga featured explosions, monsters, and naked women, but for most of the 1980s and 1990s, manly-man manga was the norm; American publishers barely acknowledged that female comic fans existed in or outside Japan. There were licensed manga with female protagonists, to be sure, but The Legend of Mother Sarah and Mai The Psychic Girl were clearly written for male audiences, as the reductive tagline on Mai‘s front cover attests: “She is pretty. She is psychic. She is Japanese.” (Read: “She might go out with you.”) That began to change in the mid-1990s, when a few publishers made the then-radical decision to introduce manga for girls. VIZ released Moto Hagio’s They Were Eleven (1995) and A, A’ (1997); Mixx made a hit out of Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon (1997); and Antarctic Press, home of Ninja High School and Hurricane Girls, dabbled in shojo with Mio Odagi’s Magical Mates (1996).

If VIZ took the high road, introducing readers to one of Japan’s most influential and beloved creators, and Mixx took the middle road, courting female fans of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers and the Sailor Moon anime, Antarctic took the cheap road, licensing a self-published work by an obscure artist. The fact that Magical Mates reached American shores at all had more to do with who Odagi knew than the quality of her work. As Jason Thompson explains in a recent House of 1000 Manga column, Odagi was a member of Studio Do-Do, a small group of artists that had an inside connection at Antarctic Press: Ippongi Bang, whose friendship with Antarctic staffers helped open the door for her fellow Studio Do-Do artists.

Flipping through the six issues that comprise Magical Mates, Mio Odagi’s lack of skill is painfully obvious. The stories — which focus on a trio of tarot-reading, spell-casting teens — abound in the kind of poorly drawn panels and non-sequitors that would make a Hana to Yume editor pull out her hair. Odagi lavishes considerable attention on her characters’ eyes, rendering their irises and lashes with a meticulous precision that’s fundamentally at odds with the slapdash way she draws the rest of their bodies. She also struggles with backgrounds; her characters often appear to be floating above the picture plane, unencumbered by gravity.

Each story revolves around a romantic entanglement of one sort or another: in “Love on a Friendship Bracelet,” for example, Rinko, Kana, and Noemi help the manager of the boys’ soccer team express her feelings to the arrogant star player, while in “The Priestesses’ Love Letter,” the girls play matchmaker for the class brain and the rock guitarist she secretly adores. Not much connects the episodes, save for running gags about Rinko’s vanity — she vies with Kana and Noemi to be the “star” of the series — and about Rinko’s long-suffering suitor Eiji, a short, bespectacled nerd with an alter ego: The Student President of Darkness, a malicious teen who carries out Eiji’s darker wishes.

The Student President of Darkness gag embodies what’s good and bad about Magical Mates. Eiji’s frequent transformations are the kind of problem that could easily be fixed by logic or a lanyard; the fact that he’s always absent when the President is sabotaging a soccer match or flooding a water park doesn’t seem to register with Rinko or her friends. Yet for all the suspension of disbelief that Eiji’s Jekyll-and-Hyde persona demands, these transformations serve an important function, adding a badly needed element of emotional authenticity to Magical Mates; Eiji’s jealousy feels more real than anything else in the series, providing a reliable source of comic relief and dramatic conflict.

More striking than the stories themselves is Antarctic Press’ attempt to position Magical Mates as a comedy that older male readers would enjoy. Each issue featured advertisements for comics such as Warrior Nun Areala, Codename: Scorpio, and the NC-17 vampire comic Tabou, which had a tie-in with an adult film. Though the covers seem less deliberately calculated to appeal to male readers than the advertising, issue four is a notable exception: all three girls have been given a sexy makeover with super-long legs, savage tans, and skimpy bathing suits that are completely out of character. The one fan letter that Antarctic published — which appears on the back page of issue four — comes from a male reader who complains that he doesn’t like Magical Mates‘ cover art or title. “It’s got that Sailor Moon stigma,” he notes. “I hope readership picks up, and that people don’t get the wrong idea and think this is some sort of bland children’s comic.”

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to fault Antarctic for treating Magical Mates as something other than a “children’s comic,” as its tone and episodic structure seem best suited for young readers. Yet at the time Mates debuted, there was no obvious market for girls’ manga. The Sailor Moon anime was just beginning to reach female audiences here in the US — it was still two years away from becoming a big hit — and American publishers had been neglecting the female comics market for decades. Antarctic made a logical gamble, presenting Mates as a wacky comedy starring three cute girls rather than a wacky comedy written for girls, never acknowledging that Odagi’s artwork, plotlines, and sensibility owed a significant debt to the magical girl genre.

Had it been marketed differently, Magical Mates still might not have found an audience — Moto Hagio, after all, bombed with readers, despite her impeccable pedigree and formidable talent. Yet Mates is significant because it anticipated the kind of shojo that caught on with American girls in the following decade, with its focus on romance, wacky hijinks, and unabashedly teen pursuits, from telling fortunes and swapping love charms to visiting amusement parks.

Readers curious about Magical Mates can find inexpensive copies of all six issues on eBay; note that Antarctic initially planned a nine-issue series, but canceled the last three.

Manga Artifacts is a monthly feature exploring older, out-of-print manga published in the 1980s and 1990s. For a fuller description of the series’ purpose, see the inaugural column.

Café Latte Rhapsody by Toko Kawai: A-

by

I reviewed this cute yet complicated love story for this month’s BL Bookrack column at Manga Bookshelf. I really, really enjoyed the romance between a somewhat relationship-scarred bookstore employee and his huge younger lover, and it made me realize I haven’t read anything by Toko Kawai that I didn’t like!

You can find that review here.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

BL Bookrack: Four from DMP

by and 10 Comments

Welcome to the September installment of BL Bookrack, a new, monthly feature co-written with Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This month we take a look at four manga from Digital Manga Publishing, Cafe Latte Rhapsody, Garden Sky, and The Tyrant Falls in Love from their Juné imprint, and Double Cast from DokiDoki.

Cafe Latte Rhapsody | By Toko Kawai | Published by Juné | Rated 16+ – Freckled and good-natured Hajime Serizawa works at a book store. One day, while attempting to fill an order, he comes across a huge customer with a piercing glare. Serizawa’s scared of him at first, but when the customer kindly fetches a book that the diminutive Serizawa can’t reach, he wonders if his first impression was mistaken. Further observations reveal that the huge customer is the kind of guy who tidies up books misshelved by other customers and saves abandoned kittens in the rain. In other words, not scary at all!

Serizawa learns that the customer’s name is Keito, and they strike up a friendship initially based upon finding the kittens a home. Keito discovers that Serizawa is gay when the latter’s no-good former lover comes by to hit Serizawa up for money, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Little by little, they fall in love and it’s just about the sweetest, cutest thing on the planet.

Rather than the story fizzling at this point, it actually gets even better. Serizawa, at 23, has been in relationships before but none ever worked out. Even now, when it seems he’s finally found a fairy-tale love, he’s thinking of the day when it’ll all have to end. As readers, we also get to know him better when it’s slowly revealed that he’s not actually as cheerful as he appears—he has some deep-seated insecurity, especially about his looks, which prevents him from expressing annoyance when the girls at work start to show an interest in Keito. He feels like he’s so unattractive, it wouldn’t be fair to ask Keito not to notice them, and instead he goes in the opposite direction and almost seems to encourage their hopes.

Sweet, cute, complicated in a very human way… these are the ingredients of some of the best BL! Toko Kawai also has a gift for staging some very natural-feeling conversations between her characters. They’re not always talking about their feelings—sometimes they talk about coffee or food they dislike, and even seem to be a pair of science nerds, though that’s not dwelt upon too much. The one complaint I could really make is that the art is a little rough, but it’s not in any way detrimental to a truly charming love story.

I’ve read a few things by Toko Kawai now and there was not a one among them that I didn’t like. In fact, I think Café Latte Rhapsody has solidified my status as an honest-to-goodness fan.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Double Cast | By Ellie Mamahara & Takana Mizuhashi | Published by DokiDoki | Rated 16+ – Yuki Yamamuro is a charismatic idol whose stage work in a modern adaptation of Goethe’s Faust is just a way of killing time while he waits for his stalled television career to revive. When he fears that the young actor double-cast in his role may be making moves on his producer (and occasional lover), Otaki, he tries to manipulate his rival into falling for him instead. Unfortunately for Yuki, the other actor, Sawaki spots his efforts a mile away, setting up a level of rivalry between them that Yuki is neither emotionally nor artistically prepared to face.

The promotional copy for this manga is filled with phrases like “seemingly innocent” and “game of love.” With words like these in mind, one imagines a cast of sexy idols sharing arch glances and little substance–at best a sly, humorous romp. What Double Cast actually offers, however, is a surprisingly insightful and even touching exploration of insecurity, confidence, ambition, and art.

Initially portrayed as an arrogant player (both for the story’s audience and in the character’s own mind), Yuki’s emotional deterioration is swift and true, betraying the inherent vulnerability of anyone whose self-worth and livelihood are both reliant on the approval of strangers. Both the challenges he receives from his better-trained rival and the truths revealed by his nurturing producer are perfectly calculated to either ruin him or save him, depending on your point of view. Meanwhile, Sawaki’s bitterness over the natural charisma of his less-educated (and arguably less-talented) co-star is palpable, manifesting itself as both resentment and desire, neither of which conforms to his high ideals or his careful career plans.

That the story’s theatrical setting is one of a handful in which a cast of characters made up almost entirely of gay men seems genuinely plausible surely adds to its realistic feel, but there is really very little fantasy involved here at all. Aside from whatever liberties may be taken with the workings of the Japanese entertainment business, the characters’ emotional journeys feel very authentic to their necessarily self-centered careers.

Mamahara’s artwork is attractive, if uneven. Though the visual storytelling flows well, her male characters in particular feel stiff and awkward, with expressionless faces outside of their occasionally haunted eyes. She has better luck with her few female characters. Yuki’s ambiguous girl friend, Kaho, is downright luminous (as is her adorable pet cat) offering a refreshing contrast to the stony-faced leads and perhaps deliberately creating sympathy for a girl who is ultimately destined for heartbreak.

And “refreshing” is really a key word here. Emotionally complex and surprisingly thoughtful, Double Cast falls into the all-too-rare category of single-volume yaoi I’ve truly enjoyed reading. Recommended.

-Review by MJ

Garden Sky | By Yuko Kuwabara | Published by Juné | Rated 13+ – Garden Sky is technically a short story collection, but the stories within focus on just two sets of characters. In the first, the child-like Kami-sama (God) is lonely. While watching the pond of human lives one day, he spots an idiotic fellow who has just been shot by a jealous lover and is about to die. Figuring that bringing a dead person back as a companion does not violate the laws barring him from interfering in the lives of humans, he rescues the man, dresses him in white clothing, and dubs him Shiro (white).

Shiro’s crazy for chicks and when there aren’t any in Heaven, he convinces Kami-sama to let him pick a woman friend and, together, the three of them will become a family. As luck would have it, the woman Shiro picks turns out to be a ninja with the magical ability to change genders and she is really he, whom Kami-sama dresses in black clothes and names Kuro (black). While spazzy Shiro initially pesters reserved Kuro to adopt his feminine form, he somehow realizes that Kuro still does it for him even though he’s a guy. They seem to be growing closer and then… the story’s over.

The next set of stories, “Go East,” is more of a typical fantasy. Raiho and Yukito are students at a training school for taimashi, or fighters who combat the bevy of monsters roaming the countryside. In looks and personality, they are nearly identical to the protagonists of the earlier stories, but while Raiho is exuberant and rather clueless and Yukito is more serious, both are driven to achieve their goal of being sent to vanquish a dangerous dragon god. A decade before, a group of taimashi were dispatched to the dragon god’s lair, including Yukito’s father, thus providing Yukito’s motivation. Raiho just likes fighting monsters. They complete the task assigned by their boss to test whether they’re worthy to undertake the journey and then… the story’s over.

See a pattern here? Both tales are very light on substance, feature the same types of characters, and go absolutely nowhere in the end. They’re pretty boring while they’re underway, for that matter. The one aspect I did like is the art—it’s not groundbreaking or anything, but it’s clean and easy to read and there’s just something about the way she draws profiles that I find appealing.

Garden Sky is a disappointment. Even if you’re in the mood for a bit of fluff, surely there exists some in which stories actually conclude in a satisfying manner!

-Review by Michelle Smith

The Tyrant Falls in Love, Vol. 1 | By Hinako Takanaga | Published by Juné | Rated 18+ – Tetsuhiro Morinaga is a university student with long-held feelings for his vocally homophobic sempai, Souichi Tatsumi. Though he’s grateful that Tatsumi is willing to remain friends with him even after discovering his feelings, their close relationship actually makes the situation more difficult for Morinaga, until finally he loses control and takes Tatsumi by force.

It’s no secret how little I enjoy rape as a catalyst in BL manga, and in most cases, a premise like this would turn me off of a series completely. The frequency with which rape is used as a precursor to romance in this genre is enough to make my head spin. What makes The Tyrant Falls in Love stand out in the din, however, is how expertly the relationship between its characters is developed from the beginning, and how that changes the tone of the whole story–even the dreaded rape. To be clear, this scenario is no less disturbing to me than in any other BL rape fantasy, but far more interesting in its development and execution.

Takanaga’s skill as a writer is evident from the beginning. With sure, broad strokes she paints her main characters, letting us know exactly who they are in the very first pages, and cementing their relationship with little more than body language and a few pieces of dialogue. Her drawing is expressive and the humor is spot on. The rape itself happens less than two chapters into the volume, but even by then, and even with the use of a device so ridiculous it basically boils down to a love potion, these characters have been so firmly established, it’s not at all difficult to believe the scene as played.

It’s all sickeningly believable–Morinaga’s careful manipulation of his own thoughts to justify actions he knows are deeply wrong, the sheer horror on Tatsumi’s face as he realizes that he’s not safe with the person he trusts most–every piece of this scene rings true. And even afterwards, as Morinaga withdraws from the school in shame, the relationship between the two of them has been so well-drawn, it’s not at all unbelievable that Tatsumi might feel devastated at the loss, to the point of offering forgiveness to the person who has betrayed him in the worst way he can imagine.

Unfortunately, it’s after this that Takanaga gives in to cheap fantasy, satisfying her readers’ immediate romantic desires but sacrificing her characters in the process. Given the deep relationship between her main characters, there may indeed be a way to believably move them towards actual romance, but pushing them into a never-ending predator/prey cycle as she does here (one that is played for humor, no less) is definitely not it.

Though Takanaga’s expressive artwork and deft characterization are a significant draw, this volume ultimately disappoints. For hard-core fans only.

-Review by MJ

Review copies provided by the publishers.

TOKYOPOP & comiXology launch digital Hetalia

by 1 Comment

Announced today, manga publisher TOKYOPOP and digital comics publisher comiXology have teamed up to present the first simultaneous print/digital release the industry has yet seen (check out Comics Worth Reading for a little clarification on that claim). The title chosen for this collaboration is Hetalia Axis Powers, a popular Japanese webcomic by Hidekaz Himaruya that has since been adapted to print (as well as anime) in Japan.

This will be the first manga to join comiXology’s catalogue of over 3,000 comics. The series’ first six chapters are already available from comiXology for the web, iPad, iPhone and iPod. The first chapter is free, with subsequent chapters selling for $0.99 each.

Also coming soon, according to a recent press release, is a deluxe teaser app that fans can download from the iTunes App Store, which includes a preview of the first chapter, manga trailer, and photos of elaborately dressed fans in Hetalia cosplay.

Quotes from TOKYOPOP’s Stu Levy and comiXology’s David Steinberger suggest that this is the first in an effort to bring all of TP’s manga titles to comiXology’s digital platform. Other manga publishers who currently provide both print and digital releases of many titles include Digital Manga Publishing and NETCOMICS, and of course Yen Press, whose Yen Plus magazine recently launched its first digital issue. Who will be next?