Archives for April 2012

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes

April 17, 2012 by Sara K. 17 Comments

And now we are back in Hong Kong. Just as the first review in this series presents an adaptation of the first novel, Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, the final review also presents an adaptation of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn.

Example Scene

Here, Yang Kang tells Mu Nianci what he plans to do.

Mu Nianci expresses her opinion of Yang Kang’s plans.

That knife is a great metaphor for their destructive relationship. These two hurt each other a lot … and yet they hold on. Furthermore, it is Yang Kang, not Mu Nianci, who is bleeding. Ultimately, Yang Kang pays the heavier price for this romance. I am not sure whether or not that is their father’s knife (note: this is not incest; she’s adopted, he’s biological, and they didn’t even know about each other’s existence until they were teenagers) but if it is, then that makes the metaphor perfect.

Look at that gloriously bloody hand!

Mu Nianci runs away. But it’s too late.

About Lee Chi-Ching

Lee Chi-Ching, while lacking the stature of Tony Wong and Ma Wing-Shing, is yet another of Hong Kong’s most popular manhua artists. He has the distinction of being the first Hong Kong manhua artist to have his work published in Japanese, and to the best of my knowledge, is still the most popular manhua artist in the Japanese market. Unlike the other manhua artists who have adapted the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching is not known for his original stories. All of his well-known works are adaptations of novels.

Art

Even though this is also in black and white, the style is in many ways the opposite of Wee Tian Beng’s. Wee Tian Beng’s style is to use sophisticated layouts to present simple drawings. Lee Chi-Ching most of the time uses simple layouts. Panels are generally a collections of rectangular boxes, and each panel generally contains one image. Yet each image is rendered with detailed linework. This artwork is very focused on the content of the panels, not the delivery of the panels.

In Tony Wong’s adaptations, the fights look like acrobat shows. In Ma Wing-shing’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre, the fights look like storms. In Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes, the fights look like ballet performances. In Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes, the fights look like … fights.

Even though the fights are not as full of “goodies” as the fights in the other manhua adaptations, Lee Chi-Ching knows how to find stillness in the movement of the human body—which is beautiful.

Or some lovely shape is formed by the series of blows—but the loveliness seems incidently to the fight itself.

And when the strikes connect, they look like they hurt. It does not look like a show.

One reason the fights look more painful is that, more than in any other manhua adapted from the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings focus on the characters. The simplicity of compositions make the characters stand out that much more. When they hurt, the reader knows.

Outside of the fights, there are many panels in which the characters strike a pose that sticks in my mind. For example, this one:

I like how Hong Qigong’s body is open and facing the reader, with his feet spread apart to show power, and how Huang Yaoshi is facing the side, his eyes away from the reader, with his feet in turnout showing that he too can stand his ground—it really fits both of their personalities. Both of their stances convey that they both are experts at using their own bodies—not to mention the clothes. The way Huang Yaoshi’s cape is draped looks quite nice. The the strap of Hong Qigong’s gunnysack matches the diagonal lines formed by the fold in his coat, and the belt adds a good horizontal line to tie it together.

Speaking of clothes, I really like Guo Jing’s hair-tie, especially how it swishes about throughout the manhua. Generally, I think this manhua adapation has the most fashion sense.

And the tears. Lots of tears.

The artwork does not seem to force the drama. It simply lets the tears flow when the characters feel the need to cry.

Of course, in this story, practically every other page has a character who feels like crying.

While the compositions are generally simple, they can be quite powerful, such as in this page:

This is a really focused picture. The woman’s arms form a nice parallel with the horizontal line of the man’s body. The vertical lines of the girl and the spear also form a nice parallel and, in turn, point (along with the diagonal lines of the man’s legs) at the main focus of the drawing—the man’s belly. Notice that this picture follows the rule of thirds—the man’s belly is about a third of the way up from the bottom-right of the drawing. The lines formed by the girl and woman’s tears point at their eyes, and the gaze of the eyes are, of course, also pointed at the man’s belly. And of course, inside the man’s belly is a spear-head.

After going through that scene again, I’m the one who now feels like crying…

And there’s this spread:

Notice on each page, there are three main elements which for three points of a triangle—a long-distance shot of the character in profile on horseback showing the distance between the two characters, a close-up of the character on the horse in motion facing front, and a close-up of the character’s face. Then the two pages mirror each other. Even the dialogue is mirrored:

Tolui: Guo Jing-anda, how are you?
Guo Jing: Tolui-anda, so it’s you?

Anda means “sworn-brother” in Mongolian—and in traditional Mongolian culture, sworn-brothers were considered closer to each other than biological brothers. I think Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings show how these two anda feel compelled to do what they think is right, even though that means fighting each other.

Lee Chi-Ching mirrors these two anda again, this time in a V shape with their childhood memories inside the V while their hostile intentions forms the shape of the V itself. Lee Chi-Ching rarely uses a composition this complex, but he certainly chooses the right moment for it.

And Lee Chi-Ching mirrors the two anda yet again.

In short, out of all of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, the artwork in Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes does the best job of illustrating the humanity of the story.

Adaptation

This is the least abridged manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy. Yes, some details get left out. Yes, there are some changes too—some of which annoy me. On the other hand, the scene I used to open this review is not in the original novel, yet it is so wonderful (are there any other comics where somebody holds a knife by the blade in order to prove a point?) that, for me, it compensates for the changes to the story that I do not like.

There are scenes which, while decently rendered in this adaptation, fail to capture the magic of the novel. For example, while the scene where Huang Rong meets Guo Jing by the lake is one of my favourites in the novel, in this adaptation it feels like nothing special.

And there are scenes where seeing it instead of reading it, in my opinion, makes the impact more visceral. For example, the flock of crows shock me more in this adaptation than in the novel.

This manhua is by far the longest of any adapted from the Condor Trilogy, but each page only covers a little plot. The low plot-to-page ratio means that the pages go by very quickly. It grants Lee Chi-Ching plenty of room to show, not tell, the story. I wish Ma Wing-Shing had done this in his The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre.

Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is very much about the characters. This adaptation puts the least emphasis in fights of all the manhua adaptations—they generally seem to be there to connect the story together rather than being ends in their own right. Thus, they are relatively short. On the other hand, many pages get spent on the key dramatic moments so the reader can really sink into them. This manhua sets up the roller-coaster of the characters excitement, glee, anger, sorrow, pain, and joy—and it is a hell of a ride.

Much more than any other manhua adaptation of the trilogy, this one gripped me by the heartstrings. Going through it again while preparing this review just reminds me why I love it so much. Each time I go through it, I find many wonderful little bits I had not noticed before.

Availability

This manhua is totally unavailable in English. Much as I want this situation to change, considering the financial realities, I am not holding my breath. It has been published in Japanese, though I do not know how to get a hold of a Japanese-language copy.

Anyone who wishes to read this in Chinese should try to get one of the Taiwan editions instead of the Hong Kong editions—the Taiwan editions come in a bigger page size, which serves the detailed artwork very well. That said, even in Taiwan, it’s easier to get the Hong Kong editions than the Taiwan editions. The Taiwan editions are all out of print, whereas this manhua has been reprinted in Hong Kong as recently as 2010. The fact that this is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which is being kept in print demonstrates its enduring popularity.

Conclusion

I have been reading comics since I was four years old. While there were years when I was sticking to re-reads and not trying any new comics, it still adds up to having read quite a few comics in my lifetime. If I were to make a list right now of my favourite comics—in any language, from any country—Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes would find a place in the top 10.

Discussion Question:
What did you think of this series of blog posts? What did I do well? What could be improved? Would you be interested in reading more posts about wuxia, manhua, or Chinese-language pop culture in general?

Sara K. would like to register her astonishment at the ignorance of Chinese-language pop culture among non-Asians who are studying Chinese. There are many non-Asians who are studying Chinese who have never heard of the Condor Trilogy. Sara K. mostly blames their teachers—language teachers need to introduce students to the culture, not just the language itself—though she also thinks that the students could be a bit more active about researching Chinese-language pop culture themselves. One of the reasons she wrote this series of blog posts is to help non-Asians who are studying Chinese to find something to read in Chinese, or at least find inspiration. She is currently working on some guest posts for Hacking Chinese, which might even be interesting to people who are not studying Chinese. Her own personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is little about comics or Asian culture over there.

Cross Game, Vol. 7

April 17, 2012 by Sean Gaffney

By Mitsuru Adachi. Released in Japan in 2 separate volumes by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Shonen Sunday. Released in North America by Viz.

As we reach Viz’s penultimate volume of Cross Game, the tournament is upon us. Meaning that, after a brief break last volume, baseball finally returns in a big way in this volume. Not that this is a bad thing, of course. Adachi finds new ways to make things interesting. An old, proud villain getting what’s coming to him. An old friend on a rival team trying his best. Akaishi dealing with distractions putting him off his game, just as Azuma did last volume. Ko finding that if he sacrifices control, he can throw even faster. This is still a sports manga, and the baseball chapters are very good.

Speaking of Akaishi, it’s interesting contrasting his relationship with Akane to Ko’s here. Akane spends most of the last half of the volume in hospital, which, as I noted before, is throwing Akaishi off his game due to his being distracted. The way she handles this is great, and shows me that I think she’s pretty much written Ko off. (She gets the 2nd best line of the book. “Boys are nice, aren’t they?” It’s funnier in context.) Later, we see her conversation with Ko, which is almost entirely elliptical and filled with unspoken meaning. She’s pushing Ko towards Aoba, just as she tries to push Aoba towards Ko at the start of this volume.

Ko, honestly, doesn’t need that much pushing. I think he understands where his feelings lie on the matter – at one point he notes Akane looks like Wakaba… too much like her – but he simply isn’t the sort of guy who presses things in a straightforward way. His training to become a great pitcher took Aoba by surprise, and I think his feelings need to do the same. We’re hearing more and more about Ko being a “great liar”, and that’s not just discussing his ability to say the opposite of what he means with a straight face. We have several moments here where Ko is clearly being honest and forthright – with Aoba at Wakaba’s grave, and with Azuma when discussing Ichiyo’s “bet” (Ko clearly knows Ichiyo is going to get married Koshien or no.) However, the constant background chant of “liar, liar, liar” makes us wonder if this is how Aoba sees him – deceptive, shifty, not saying what he means.

As for Aoba, I’d noted several reviews ago that Cross Game features a hero who’s similar to Adachi’s heroines, and Aoba is a heroine that’s quite like Adachi’s heroes. She still has trouble accepting things. Not just the idea that Ko might be interested in her – something Ko denies to her face – but the idea that she has any worth beyond sports. Her attempts at common ‘feminine’ activities – cooking, sewing – are disasters, and the fact that everyone looks to her as an inspiration in baseball must hurt horribly given that she can never truly participate. Akane says point blank that if Aoba learns to like herself, she might learn what Ko really sees in her. And even Ko is, I think, starting to realize that he can’t pull the “I’ll do anything but date you” thing forever. His brushing off of Aoba when he goes to Akane in the hospital, saying “you’d be a third wheel”, is startling, and one of the few times I think Ko means to provoke a deliberate reaction.

The baseball team, in case I forgot to mention it, has made it to the finals by the end of the book. If Seishu wins, they go to Koshien. Of course, while we’d like to see that, the final volume will be about Ko and Aoba, as always. They both took Wakaba’s death in different ways, creating behavioral habits that were designed to avoid having them be hurt again. And as they grow up – Ko, drifting away from any conflict, and Aoba, angrily punching past obstacles – they realize that this can’t go on forever. Something has to give. In the final volume, we’ll see how Adachi handles it. And who wins.

The Apartments of Calle Feliz

April 16, 2012 by Katherine Dacey 7 Comments

The Apartments of Calle Feliz begins with a scene cribbed from an Audrey Tatou flick. Luca, a struggling writer, has a terrible day: he breaks up with his boyfriend, then fights with his editor, who chastises him for writing “dark” endings. (“Nobody wants to read your sad story during a recession,” he tells Luca.) Desperate for a new place to live, Luca answers an ad in the paper for an apartment on — irony alert! — Calle Feliz (a.k.a. Happy Street), in a building affectionately known as “Final Feliz,” or “Happy End.” Javi, the landlord, offers Luca a couch, rent-free, until Luca can get back on his feet. At Javi’s urging, Luca decides to pen a novel about the other tenants.

Somewhere in the middle of the prologue, my Geiger counter began registering dangerous levels of whimsy: impossible coincidences! unnatural and impulsive behavior! a character who wants to fix other people’s lives! It’s a measure of just how much I like est em that I continued reading; she’s one of a handful of authors I trust to turn such a cutesy premise into a compelling story.

What follows is a series of vignettes about Luca’s new neighbors. In the first story, for example, we meet Dino, a designer, and Salvador, his boyfriend, who are slowly drifting apart, thanks to Salvador’s eccentric behavior: he declines all social invitations, preferring instead to wander around their apartment in the nude. Though they have maintained an uneasy truce for years, an upcoming business trip threatens to destroy their relationship. Dino and Salvador’s inevitable confrontation is heartbreaking; as silly as the plot may be — doesn’t Salvador ever get cold? what about crumbs? — Salvador’s pain is real, as is Dino’s inability to understand Salvador’s unusual strategy for coping with fear of loss and change.

Other stories illustrate similar themes of loss and estrangement. In chapter four, for example, Pepe, a dollmaker, befriends Matias, a lonely teen. Matias has become painfully self-conscious about his voice; once a source of pride, the onset of puberty has lowered and coarsened it, making him ashamed to sing in public. Only his visits to Pepe give him a sense of purpose, as Pepe’s dolls provide Matias an outlet for ventriloquizing his feelings about his mother’s recent death, and about the changes to his voice.

These stories succeed in spite of their art-movie preciousness largely on the strength of est em’s artwork. Like many boys’ love artists, she draws characters with sharp features and lean, angular bodies. est em softens those shapes with energetic, scribbly linework that helps individualize her characters, whether she’s adding a bump to a long nose or deepening the circles under an older man’s eyes. These subtle imperfections help make the characters’ interior states more accessible to the reader, helping us understand how each character inhabits his skin; when Pepe or Dino stares into the distance, we can practically see what they’re thinking. Even when we’re asked to accept an outlandish premise — a man who falls in love with identical twins, a transvestite who lives with a troupe of noisy circus musicians — the characters’ reactions to one another register as true to life; we appreciate the degree to which routine, silence, and complacency erode human connection and exact a toll on the body and spirit.

est em demonstrates a similar talent for resolving her stories in a nuanced fashion. Some endings are sad, some funny; some are surprising, while others seem inevitable. Whatever happens at the end of each story feels right for the characters and their situations, however; there’s never a moment of sitcom cuteness or sentimentality.

So if you can tolerate a bit of forced whimsy, The Apartments of Calle Feliz offers bountiful rewards: elegant artwork, memorable characters, and happy endings that are neither predictable nor pat. Recommended.

THE APARTMENTS OF CALLE FELIZ • EST EM • CITRON COMICS/JMANGA • 190 pp. • NO RATING (BEST FOR MATURE READERS)

The Lying Game, Books 2-3 by Sara Shepard

April 16, 2012 by Michelle Smith

In which I catch up on The Lying Game and circumvent the fact that I don’t have much to say about these frothy books by offering two short reviews in one post.

Never Have I Ever
Former foster child Emma Paxton has assumed the life of her privileged (and murdered) twin sister, Sutton Mercer. The only person who knows her true identity is hunky loner, Ethan Landry.

In this, the second book of the series, Emma fairly promptly crosses her sister’s friends off the suspect list (after being convinced of their guilt in the first book) and sets her suspicions upon the so-called Twitter Twins, two girls who want retribution for a particularly cruel prank Sutton played on them. While Emma sleuths and gets into peril, Sutton’s ghost hangs around and occasionally informs the reader about the small flashes of memory she conveniently experiences.

It’s hard to know what to say about a book like this. It’s teen suspense by the author of Pretty Little Liars, which means that there will be a fair amount of bad decision-making and ridiculous drama that somehow ends up being addictive anyway. I mean, it’s inconceivable that the twins are really Sutton’s killers—this is book two out of four, after all—and none of these girls is particularly likeable, but have I acquired the third book from Audible* and loaded it onto my .mp3 player with the intention of starting it as soon as I finish this review? You bet I have!

* Dear audiobook narrator,
Please learn to pronounce the letter T. Shirts don’t have buh-ins, windows don’t have cur-ins, and Facebook posts aren’t wrih-in.

Two Truths and a Lie
Usually, these books are pretty fun to read, even if they are silly, but Two Truths and a Lie sucked the enjoyment out of the experience by relying on one of my most disliked YA plots: there is angst, and the heroine could do something simple and obvious to fix it, but she is convinced for some inexplicable reason that she cannot do this thing to fix it, so things just get worse and worse until she finally does the simple and obvious thing, at which point the angst is dispelled.

In this particular instance, Sutton’s sister Laurel has discovered that Emma (in the guise of Sutton) has a secret relationship with Ethan. So, Laurel proposes that Sutton’s friends play a nasty prank on him, ‘cos that is apparently what they do. It takes Emma ages to realize that she could easily a) warn Ethan or b) tell her friends that she likes him. I also get the feeling Sara Shepard was under some Meg Cabot-like time constraint with regards to getting this book ready for publication, so she resorted to Meg Cabot-like tactics for fleshing out one’s word count, like reiterating obvious things like, “Wait, so he was at the hospital the night Sutton died? Then he couldn’t have killed her!” Uh, yes, I got that.

Like the other books in the series, this one focuses on one main suspect for Sutton’s murder who is ultimately cleared in the end. Again, there was no chance of the killer being identified before the series conclusion, and therefore no real suspense. I also do not believe that the suspect suggested at the very end of the book will wind up to be the actual perpetrator, ‘cos that leaves no room for surprise twists.

I gripe, and yet I am first in the library queue for Hide and Seek, the fourth and ostensibly final volume, which is due in July.

Pick of the Week: Dorohedoro, Durarara!!, X

April 16, 2012 by Sean Gaffney, Michelle Smith, MJ and Katherine Dacey 4 Comments

There’s quite a bit to choose from this week at Midtown Comics. What will the Battle Robot be buying this week? See below!

SEAN: There are many, many worthy titles this week, which is why I’m glad we have multiple folks picking them out. For myself, I will go with the 6th volume of Dorohedoro, Viz’s comedic fantasy action mystery manga thing. As you might guess by that description, this is an Ikki title. This volume promises to finally give us some answers regarding Nikaido and her sorcery, as well as more insight on En. And of course I’m expecting more of what I love about Dorohedoro: complicated artwork that I love to revisit; crackling dialogue with lots of Pulp Fiction-esque conversations. And Shin and Noi, who would merit a fantastic manga if it was only them, but here are merely part of a cast of great characters. Also, this volume has all new never-before-on-the-web chapters! (OK, that’s because SigIkki seems to be dead, but hey…)

KATE: I only have eyes for one title this week: X. Of all CLAMP’s early works, X has held up the best, even if the artwork is pure 1990s, with cascades of feathers and shoulder pads worthy of Crystal Carrington. One of the things I like best about X is its moral ambiguity; I’m never entirely certain who I’m supposed to be rooting for: Kamui? Fuma? The Earth? The other thing I like about X is the elegant way in which CLAMP uses the visual language of shojo manga to tell a story that could just as easily be at home in a shonen or seinen magazine. The new VIZ edition is a marked improvement over the last; the oversized trim and full-color plates give CLAMP’s elaborate battle scenes more room to breathe.

MJ: Though I’m not quite with Kate on CLAMP’s early works (I’m still a much bigger fan of Tokyo Babylon, and likely always will be), I’m completely with her on X as this week’s must-buy manga. As I mentioned back in November, though Viz’s new-and-improved omnibus release hasn’t quite yet made me *love* X, it’s definitely given me a deeper appreciation for it, in a way that suggests that true love could be on the horizon. In any case, I’m determined to find out. This week, it’s X all the way.

MICHELLE: I’m going with the second volume of Durarara!!, from Yen Press. “Weird but intriguing” was my verdict for the first volume, which managed to convey a lot of information without overwhelming the reader. I still feel like I know next to nothing about the series, and am really looking forward to seeing where it goes from here.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs 4/16/12

April 16, 2012 by MJ, Katherine Dacey, Michelle Smith and Sean Gaffney 6 Comments

This week, MJ, Michelle, Kate, & Sean look at new releases from Viz Media, Kodansha Comics, and Seven Seas.

Bakuman, Vol. 10 | By Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata | VIZ Media – Tension is high as this volume begins, with Mashiro and Takagi’s career on the line—or at least their future with Weekly Shonen Jump. Developing their latest series for a win-or-die serialization meeting dominates the bulk of this volume, and the overwhelming intensity Ohba and Obata are able to bring to this process is a prime example of Bakuman at its best. Volume ten is irresistibly compelling, in exactly the way its protagonists are struggling to achieve with their own work, making it pretty much the perfect meta-manga. Even its personal relationships—usually the series’ weak point—hold up fairly well in this volume, especially those between the two protagonists and their rivaling editors, Miura and Hattori. I’ve had some shaky moments with this series, but even I couldn’t put this volume down. Rock on, Bakuman, rock on. – MJ

Itsuwaribito, Vol. 5 | By Yuuki Iinuma | VIZ Media – Oh, Itsuwaribito, you had such promise! Your hero travels in appealing company. He tangles with villains of every stripe, using verbal acrobatics to defeat them. And he has a compelling reason for using his unique verbal gifts. Unfortunately, Utsuho’s story has proved oddly unengaging; as the fifth volume of Itsuwaribito demonstrates, author Yuuki Iinuma has a tin ear and terrible sense of pacing. These tendencies come to the fore whenever he introduces a new character: Iinuma can’t resist giving every villain, hero, and traveling companion a Tragic Past that needs to be explained in excruciating detail. The result is a story that’s fitfully engaging, roaring to life only when Utsuho and his companions stumble into a new situation. – Katherine Dacey

Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You, Vol. 13 | By Karuho Shiina | VIZ Media – As much as it has been truly wonderful to see Sawako and Kazehaya finally become a couple, I’ve lately become fascinated by Sawako’s friend, Ayane Yano, and wanted to know more about her. I seem to be getting my wish, as volume thirteen finds Ayane agreeing to date a boy she wasn’t even previously aware of, partly to have fun on the school trip to Okinawa and partly, perhaps, in hopes of making a connection that isn’t as easy for her to make as it is for others. Her reaction when Sawako assumes she must’ve liked the boy for a long time is priceless and highlights how different she is from her friends and many shoujo heroines. Ayane isn’t openly emotional and pure-hearted. Instead, she’s private and considers herself to be calculating, even though she acts in her friends’ best interests time and time again. You’ve got to love a series with such a complicated secondary character! – Michelle Smith

Negima! Magister Negi Magi Omnibus, Vol. 4 | By Ken Akamatsu | Kodansha Comics – These three volumes of Negima – Vols. 10-12 – are when fandom really began to explode in North America, and it’s not hard to see why. The school festival is where everything starts to come together – the tournament shows off Akamatsu’s desire for shonen fighting, there’s still plenty of cute girls being nearly naked all the time for his old-school fans, and the plot kicks into overdrive with Asuna’s past, the appearance of “Ku:nel Sanders”, and most of all the revelation of Chao as this arc’s big villain. Plus it has the return of Chisame, who is my second favorite character, doing what she does best – boggling in disbelief that everyone is accepting this. A terrific read, provided as always you don’t mind Akamatsu getting his “fanservice” chapters in every once in a while. –Sean Gaffney

Tegami Bachi: Letter Bee, Vol. 9 | By Hiroyuki Asada | VIZ Media – I stand by initial assessment of Tegami Bachi: it’s one of the best-looking titles in the Shonen Jump line, even if the story isn’t on par with, say, One Piece. The latest volume introduces a conspiracy theory that adds a badly needed element of complexity to the central narrative. As Lag is dismayed to learn, his old hero Gauche Suede has become an outlaw and adopted a new name. Lag rescues Gauche, only to discover that the government is intent on removing Gauche from Letter Bee headquarters. The battle scenes that follow are beautifully staged, striking a fine balance between action and reflection; only Niche’s aversion to underpants spoils the mood. After several ho-hum volumes, volume nine reaffirms the promise of the very first chapters — a fancy way of saying that I’m officially hooked on Tegami Bachi again. -Katherine Dacey

Toradora!, Vol. 4 | By Yuyuko Takemiya and Zekkyo | Seven Seas – I have to hand it to the authors, they really know how to take Taiga’s frustratoin and ramp it up to eleven. Everything that she’s dealing with goes wrong here – her issues with her small, undeveloped body; her growing feelings for Ryuuji (“RYUUJI IS MINE!”) and jealousy of Ami wanting to ‘take him’; and of course her ability to be angry at everything, whether deserved or not. It’s a miracle that she’s sympathetic, but of course she is, and that’s what gives this manga its heart. There’s less Minori this time around (except for a priceless final gag regarding underwear choice), but I can deal with that. The only downside continues to be Ryuuji’s mother, who is meant to be a stereotypical ‘blonde bimbo’, but is so utterly stereotypical that she gets on your nerves – and not in the good way that Taiga does. –Sean Gaffney

Toriko, Vol. 9 | By Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro | VIZ Media – In terms of plot, this is an entire volume of shonen battle. Of course, this being Toriko, half of the ‘battle’ is against thee environment – it’s rather startling how many deaths we see here just form the cold conditions. Of course, that’s not to say there’s no fighting at all. Tommyrod and Bogie are possibly the creepiest villains we’ve seen yet, and the artist is determined to make you squirm, especially if body horror is not your thing. Of course, this is still a Jump title, so there’s plenty of humor as well – the new guy, whoever he may be, is a stitch when talking to himself – and even a cute mascot of sorts as Komatsu bonds with a baby penguin. Still, overall this volume was very much ‘get closer to goal while stopping to fight people who want to stop us getting to goal’, like many well-done shonen manga. I wonder if we’ll reach the goal next time? –Sean Gaffney

Excel Saga, Vol. 23

April 15, 2012 by Sean Gaffney

By Rikdo Koshi. Released in Japan by Shonen Gahosha, serialized in the magazine Young King OURS. Released in North America by Viz.

As you can see by the fact that that header says ‘serialized’ rather than ‘serialization ongoing’, Excel Saga has finally come to an end in Japan, with Vol. 27 being the last. Sadly, this does not mean that the volumes will be going on a faster schedule anytime soon – Carl Horn ends the volume by saying we will likely see Vol. 24 in 2013. On the bright side, at least it’s still not cancelled! Given this economy, we can all be grateful for that. Of course, as the plot gets more convoluted and some of the past volumes get harder to find, it can be difficult to work out exactly what’s going on. This is a manga series that requires a great deal of paying attention to get the most out of it. So what happens here?

Given Misaki’s on the cover, let’s start with her. When we last left her in Vol. 22, she was somewhat shaken up by Iwata being in Nishiki’s body, but more by the fact that Iwata was near death. That’s temporarily halted here, but not for long – we think things are back to normal, but halfway through the volume Iwata’s brain has regressed to the point where he’s forgotten everything after meeting Misaki in college. This shakes her up badly – by now most folks are aware that she’s in love with Iwata, but given her personality – and Iwata’s – it still comes as a shock every time we see it shown. So much so that she is willing to betray a newly formed allegiance.

Back to the first chapter of the book, and we are rather surprised to see Misaki and Excel genuinely teaming up, especially after last time when Misaki basically admitted her true desire was to stay out of things and just be left alone. Unfortunately, what’s going on with Iwata – and its connection to Excel – means that really isn’t an option anymore. Seeing them briefly working together is awesome – they are both in their own ways the most sensible and competent members of their respective groups – and it’s a shame we couldn’t see more of it.

We can’t see more of it because of what happened with Excel and Isshiki (Ropponmatsu 1 for those playing at home). To be fair to Rikdo, he did not pull this out of thin air. Much of the plot of the previous two volumes has been setting us up for what we see here. Excel’s amazing strength is shown in Vol. 20 in her fight with Isshiki, and we also see how consciousnesses can translate into other robot bodies when Iwata does it. That said, Excel definitely does not seem to be a robot. Despite having robot strength, and apparently robot invulnerability. Misaki hitting her with the laser whip was startling, but she had to know for sure. And that’s BEFORE Excel swapped bodies with Isshiki.

This is, as Shiouji tells Elgala, very dangerous. They’ve no idea how it happened, and no idea how to recreate or stop it. Meanwhile, Excel’s ACTUAL body does not have an Isshiki mind in it – it’s just sitting there slowly dying. And so Misaki is forced to ally with Elgala. This is much less of a powerful alliance. Elgala is very strong for a human, and is incredibly resilient for one too, but the fact is that compared to Excel she is simply not a superhuman. She’s also an idiot – yes, even compared to Excel. On the plus side, she’s a member of ACROSS. That’s about all the pluses. Her reasoning with Excel fails to take into account Excel’s devotion to Il Palazzo – one made even stronger by her immortal robot body.

As for other characters, it was rather surprising to see Hyatt not only remember Watanabe, but even seem to remember affection for him. Hyatt will, let’s face it, always be the most opaque cast member (And I include Miwa in that group) – and it’s not surprising that she vanishes from the second half of the manga. However, seeing this suggests that perhaps there is something more to her than just falling over and dying, and Watanbe brings it out… somehow. As for Watanabe, those weary of his descent into sleazy pervdom will be relieved to note that he reverts after this confrontation to his old Miss Ayasugi-loving self. Who is still a wuss, but the alternative was not to most people’s liking.

(BTW, Carl Horn confuses ‘True End’ with ‘Good End’. Watanabe thinks he’s getting the True End as he’s going to DIE, but still happy knowing he was loved/remembered. True endings tend to be bittersweet. Higurashi is a good example – the original games, manga and anime had a ‘Good End’, but the PS2 game version had a ‘True End’, which did not save everyone. True endings are generally deeper and more realistic, but of course less happy.)

Kabapu really doesn’t do much here, but we do get more Miwa. She’s clearly our end villain by now, and the one in control at ACROSS. Well, most of the time – it hasn’t been clear for AGES when anyone is dealing with the real Il Palazzo. For example, the Il Palazzo Elgala and Hyatt report to seems unaware that there was a robot President Excel at all. And Miwa walks right up to him at one point – is that the hologram? Is Il Palazzo like Isshiki? Or, more likely, is Il Palazzo like Excel? (We’ve seen flashbacks of the two of them in their previous lives.) I wonder if his consciousness can jump bodies? As for Miwa, we don’t know precisely what she wants just yet, but I’m betting having Excel in Isshiki’s body is good for her and bad for everyone else.

And so we leave off for another year – at a fairly annoying cliffhanger, it must be said. (Though really, wait till Vol. 26 – that’ll really make you scream.) Is Excel aware she may be working for the enemy? Where is the real Il Palazzo? Will Iwata regain his old goofy self? Can Misaki admit her feelings for him at all? Is Miwa really her husband in disguise, as all of Excel Saga fandom seems to think? What is Kabapu going to do? Can Watanabe ever truly reunite with Hyatt? And is Elgala going to say hilarious yet dumb things?

We won’t find out any of those for at least another year. Though I’m guessing the Elgala one will be true if nothing else. This volume was great. So much hot, thick plot pushing into my brain – ACK! Must stop that! Keeping my brain free of plot is what Il Palazzo desires!

Not By Manga Alone, March 2012

April 14, 2012 by Megan Purdy, Sean Gaffney and Michelle Smith Leave a Comment

Welcome back to Not By Manga Alone! This month Megan reviews the all-woman Womanthology, Sean looks at another Kilban collection, Tiny Footprints And Other Drawings, and Michelle visits with the young Beatles in Baby’s in Black.

Womanthology | By Renae de Liz, others | IDW Press – Womanthology was a Kickstarter sensation; the most successful comics project in the crowdfunding site’s history. The over $100,000 it raised has since been surpassed by Order of the Stick’s record breaking million dollar Kickstarter. Womanthology though, remains a singular project. It’s not the first all woman US comics anthology (far from it), but it continues to be high profile, generating both excitement and controversy. Maybe the project just came at the right time, when tensions over gender in the North American comics industry and community were hot, but the project’s continued high profile has meant valuable exposure for over a hundred creators, many of them up and comers.

Womanthology is an anthology with a social mission. It sought to build community among women creators, raise money for various Global Giving projects, and be a kickass comic book. It needs, therefore, to be judged by those, as well as artistic criteria. Does the book fulfil the projects threefold mission statement? Yes, yes and no. The results are mixed. Certainly Womanthology’s fundraising was impressive, and the excitement with which comics fans and creators greeted the project, suggest its gone a long way to its mission of building community. Womanthology was a nonprofit book, so it’s difficult to judge its sales figures against say, AvX, but it was recently announced that the anthology has been picked up as an ongoing series by its publisher IDW, so I think we can safely term it a commercial success.

Artistically it’s a mixed bag. The editors chose to pair up established and new and upcoming creators, which is a wonderful community building measure, but the art and writing is consequently varying degrees of polished. Some stories suffer under the shortness necessary for being part of an anthology. Endings are rushed, climaxes misplaced or absent. But one, two and four page stories are hard. It’s not surprising that the stories scripted and/or drawn by experienced cartoonists tend to be strongest. Stories that leaned on fairytale or newspaper/web comic strip tropes also tended to immune to the problem the page constraints. The one-two punch of a comic strip gag is perfectly suited to a tight frame; a superhero origin story might take a bit more breathing room.

Aside from length, some stories suffer from a layout that isn’t intuitive, and doesn’t always clearly delineate where stories begin and end. Titles and credits are too often weirdly placed, tiny, or bleeding into the background. The pages of the book are divided into two parts: up top are comics and pinups, footnoted below is an ongoing comic strip that’s interspersed with creator blurbs and quotes. It’s separated from the bulk of the page by a divider of three small stars rather than a straight line, and while this may sound like a minor issue, it took me a few seconds to figure out what part of the page needed my attention first. Confusing page design can be comic book death, so it’s a good thing the content of the book drew me in quickly. The creator quotes, all of them advice on how to make or break into comics, are the book’s standout design element. Besides being good advice, they contribute to a sense of continuity, which is so important in an anthology.

For me, the big draw of Womanthology is the sheer variety of styles and voices in the book. The art runs the gamut from the traditionally superheroic, to high fantasy, to picture book and even glamor pinups. Ming Doyle’s pulpy superheroine story is a predictable standout, but there is a lot of great work in this book, and not just from the big name creators. Janet Lee’s Ladybird is lovely, unusual and textured. Nado Pena’s colours in A Stuffed Bunny in Doll-Land are stunning; a nice bit of storytelling that perfectly compliments her pencils. Everwell, script by Jody Hauser, with art by Fiona Staples and Adriana Blake is another standout, an original fairytale with two different but equally dreamy art styles. The Culper Spy, script by Amanda Deibert and art by Amy Donohoe is a particularly fun story, introducing Agent 355 of the Revolutionary War’s Culper Ring, a savvy shoutout to Brian K. Vaughn’s Y: the Last Man. But while there’s lots of fresh and impressive talent in Womanthology, many stories could have used another go-through. Several otherwise outstanding stories suffer from misplaced word bubbles that utterly disorder conversations. Some of the book’s prettiest art is at times frustratingly opaque with action scenes that make little sense, and are hard to read.

But these are minor complaints, when the book as a whole is such a satisfying read. The sheer volume of content is impressive–this is isn’t a book you’ll get through in one sitting–and kind of wonderful. The undeniable hugeness of the book, along with the thoughtful creator interviews that wrap up the book, might help you through your sticker shock. Fifty dollars US! But worth a read. – Megan Purdy

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Tiny Footprints And Other Drawings | By B. Kliban | Workman Publishing – I had said in my review of Kliban’s last collection, Whack Your Porcupine, that his use of art and wordplay was at its zenith. In Tiny Footprints, we see him going in the opposite direction. Except for one brief section dealing with rhyming sentences, these cartoons are almost entirely wordless, requiring you to focus on the art to get the humor. Perhaps as a result, the humor is much stranger here, and his cynicism that has popped up through the prior books seems stronger than before. I note that between his last book and this one, he had published a cat calendar and cat portfolio, so perhaps this collection is a contrast to the growing celebrity his cat drawings were getting in the public eye. This is the other Kliban, who could be crude and nasty towards humanity but also judged them with one of the best artist’s eyes in the business.

Some other things I noticed in this collection: there’s a lot of transposition of humans and animals in here, with Kliban never quite allowing us to forget our roots – or indeed how thin the veneer of ‘sophistication’ we have is. This goes both ways, of course – one cartoon has a delivery man being barked at by a naked man patrolling his fenced-in yard, while another sees an unimpressed princess holding a frog sticking out its enormous tongue, clearly ready for much more than a mere peck on the lips. There’s also some analysis of the ‘professional’ and the degrees you can get for it – we see a street corner with a prostitute who apparently has a Ph. D. in her field, and another street corner noting a beggar with the same. But as always, my favorite cartoons tend to be those that make me stare and say, “…what?”, such as the bus shaped like a duck walking down Main Street. Taken as a whole, these cartoons once again make you admire both the visual eye and the twisted mind of this artist. — Sean Gaffney

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Baby’s in Black | By Arne Bellstorf | First Second – First off, let me state up-front that I am a huge fan of The Beatles. Not only that, but I am the kind of Beatles fan who has read multiple books about them and their early days and who would certainly be capable of finding fault with a graphic novel purporting to be about them. I clarify all this so that when I tell you that I enjoyed Baby’s in Black immensely you will realize how tough I will have been to please.

It’s a familiar story for me: The Beatles are playing in a club in a seedy area of Hamburg, Germany. One day, a young German named Klaus Voormann happens to catch a performance, and is so awestruck he insists that his quasi-girlfriend Astrid Kirchherr hear them for herself. Astrid, a photographer, is instantly intrigued by the group’s enigmatic bassist, Stu Sutcliffe, and while she befriends the band as a whole, she and Stu soon fall in love. He’s only in The Beatles to please his best friend, John, but with Astrid’s encouragement enrolls in a local art school and begins to attract notice as a painter. Alas, just as things are starting to go well, he begins getting these awful headaches.

Sometimes, a phrase can be really important. In this case, the phrase in question appears on the back flap and reads, “Written with extensive input from Astrid Kirchherr herself…” If this phrase hadn’t been present, my reaction to scenes of Stu and Astrid alone together might’ve been dubious. But because of her involvement, it felt like I was getting to see little moments between them that had never been considered significant enough to make it into any other chronicle. I wish the book could’ve been longer, or had a happier ending, but it wasn’t meant to be.

I do think Bellstorf handled Stu’s death in a tasteful yet striking way, and I was particularly fond of a few pages afterwards where Astrid’s gaze alights upon various spots in her home where Stu can no longer be found. Too, Bellstorf’s artwork, complete with scribbles that occasionally exceed panel borders, nicely captures the exuberance of The Beatles’ music as well as Stu’s painting sprees. If I had any gripe, it’s that the boys in the band are sometimes distinguishable only by their eyebrows and that I occasionally got Klaus and Stu confused, especially after Astrid gave the latter the haircut that the other lads would eventually ask for themselves.

If you’re new to early Beatles history, this would be an accessible place to start. And if you’re a seasoned fan, you still might learn something new. – Michelle Smith

Busy, busy, busy

April 13, 2012 by Brigid Alverson

It’s been busy around here lately: PWCW just published my interview with Makoto Tateno as well as my article about being an Eisner judge—in case you haven’t figured it out, that’s what I was doing when I disappeared a few weeks ago. This week I’m out in Chicago for C2E2, which is why posting has been spotty of late. Next week we’ll be back to normal.

After a weekend of new license announcements, we have another one this week: The small publisher One Peace books has picked up Crayon Shin-Chan, which makes the third time this series has been licensed (first by Comics One, then by CMX). One Peace will also release some manga adaptations of classic works of literature (Don Quixote, Ulysses, Moby-Dick) that were originally published by Variety Art Works.

ANN rounds up the latest additions to JManga’s digital lineup, including new manga by set em and Takao Saito.

Sean Gaffney takes a look ahead to next week’s new manga releases.

AstroNerdBoy looks at the drop in manga sales and blames it more on the economy, high prices, and a dearth of legitimate digital alternatives than on piracy.

Kodansha has announced the winners of its Morning International Manga Competition. The grand prize winner is Demi-Human Symbiosis, by Taiwan’s Ya Shen, and the second prize went to Over the Rainbow, by Brazilian artist Maguinha.

Vol. 4 of Sailor Moon and vol. 55 of Naruto placed second and third on BookScan’s list of the top 20 graphic novels sold in bookstores.

Sara K. presents another look at the Condor Trilogy manhua at Manga Bookshelf.

News from Japan: Black Jack Sōsakuhiwa, manga biography of Osamu Tezuka, focusing on the creation of Black Jack, will debut in the June 12 issue of Bessatsu Shonen Champion.

Reviews: Carlo Santos delivers the verdict on a handful of recent titles in his latest Right Turn Only!! column at ANN. Ash Brown recount’s a week’s worth of reading at Experiments in Manga. MJ and Michelle Smith find plenty to squee about in their latest Off the Shelf column at Manga Bookshelf.

Connie on 100 Blossoms to Love (Slightly Biased Manga)
Johanna Draper Carlson on vol. 20 of 20th Century Boys (Comics Worth Reading)
Johanna Draper Carlson on vol. 3 of A Bride’s Story (Comics Worth Reading)
Sean Gaffney on vol. 2 of A Devil and Her Love Song (A Case Suitable for Treatment)
Connie on vol. 23 of Excel Saga (Slightly Biased Manga)
Kate O’Neil on vol. 23 of Excel Saga (The Fandom Post)
Rob McMonigal on issue 2 of Gen (Panel Patter)
Lori Henderson on vols. 9 and 10 of Honey and Clover (Manga Xanadu)
Zack Davisson on Ichiro (Japan Reviewed)
Kristin on vol. 8 of Kamisama Kiss and vol. 7 of Oresama Teacher (Comic Attack)
Annaon vols. 12 and 13 of Kimi ni Todoke (Manga Report)
Erica Friedman on vol. 7 of Pure Yuri Anthology Hirari (Okazu)
Ash Brown on Rohan at the Louvre (Experiments in Manga)
Connie on vol. 3 of Saturn Apartments (Slightly Biased Manga)
Connie on vol. 7 of Tegami Bachi (Slightly Biased Manga)
Kristin on vol. 8 of Yu-Gi-Oh! GX (Comic Attack)

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Return of the Condor Heroes

April 13, 2012 by Sara K. 14 Comments

Let’s leave Hong Kong for a post to visit Singapore. A peek at this manhua was already presented in an earlier post: The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting.

Singapore’s most commercially successful manhua artist by far is Wee Tian Beng. He was the first Sigaporean manhua artist to achieve success in the Hong Kong and Taiwan markets. Wee Tian Beng is best known for The Celestial Zone and its sequels, but before Wee Tian Beng made The Celestial Zone, he adapted Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ, using ‘Return of the Condor Heroes’ as the official English title. In 1997 this adaptation won the “Asian Manga Prestigious Award” at the Asian Manga Summit held in Seoul, South Korea.

Art

Compared to Hong Kong manhua, Wee Tian Beng’s drawings look simple and cartoonish. I admit that at first that turned me off. However, as I read more and more, it dawned on me that the artwork is quite rich. Sure, the artwork does not have the intricate line-work characteristic of Hong Kong wuxia manhua … but there is such variety in the way Wee Tian Beng draws the story.

For example, there are many sequences showing a series of graceful motions by the characters. Indeed, I think Return of the Condor Heroes has the most graceful movement of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua – Hong Kong manhua tends to have characters move in a more BLAM! manner.

There are many panels which play with light and shadow, particularly shadow.

Xiaolongnu weeps over a sleeping Yang Guo.

It's because of moments like this that I think that Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is the most shojo-like novel in the Condor Trilogy. When he wakes up, even though his face is still wet from her tears, there is already no trace of her current wheareabouts.

And of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, Return of the Condor Heroes is the most cinematic. Often there will be a series of panels, or even pages, without dialogue or fancy composition—just simple still shots.

Speaking of cinema, Return of the Condor Heroes is the manhua which puts the most emphasis on natural scenery. Like westerns in the United States, wuxia movies and TV shows sometimes put a lot of emphasis on beautiful scenery. Something about human nature must make people enjoy watching fighters beat the living daylights out of each other in gorgeous settings. Heck, I first became interested in wuxia because it features people beating the living daylights out of each other while wearing beautiful clothes—I only came to appreciate other aspects (the story, for example) later.

NOTE: While all other manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy are read from right-to-left, Return of the Condor Heroes is read from left-to-right.

All of the Condor Trilogy manhua show some of the naturally beautiful settings. Even The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre occasionally has a nice page or two showing the lovely scenery. But Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes not only has many panels of lofty mountains, verdant forests, and scenic rivers, it also shows quite a bit of the wildlife too. While Tony Wong’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is the adaptation to look to if you want luxurious palaces, Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is definitely the scenic route.

Wee Tian Beng’s drawings also renders the characters in a more subtle manner than Tony Wong and Ma Wing-shing. For example, I really like the way that Wee Tian Beng draws Guo Xiang.

His drawings capture how she is curious, clever, mischievous, and naïve at the same time—in other words, how she is just like many other teenage girls.

While at first I did not care for the way he draws Xiaolongnü, his depiction of her grew on me.

Wee Tian Beng conveys how cold Xiaolongnü is while offering glimpses of the feelings she has deep down. That’s hard to pull off, and something that I do not think Tony Wong really succeeded at. While I haven’t seen any of the TV/film adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, I think that Xiaolongnü would be the most challenging role for an actor to play in the entire trilogy.

So, in spite of a bad first impression, the art definitely won me over.

Yang Guo catches a knife with his mouth.

Did Yang Guo just yank away that knife with his mouth? THAT IS SO COOL!

Adaptation

Wee Tian Beng botched the depiction of Yang Guo’s childhood. He shows Yang Guo as a mischievous young boy—fair enough, Yang Guo is a mischievous boy. Yang Guo’s childish exploits are shown in a humorous light—fair enough, some of them are humorous. Wee Tian Beng also shows some of the bullying … but … but the bullying is also shown in a humorous light, which is definitely not how it reads in the original novel. Wee Tian Beng also fails to show the true extent of the bullying. And no where in the manhua is it shown, or even said, that Yang Guo was wandering around China, homeless, without any relatives or friends, surviving by any means necessary … when he was just eleven years old. Plotwise, is that detail important? No, not really. Is that detail important for Yang Guo’s character development. Oh hell yes it is.

The reader needs to feel Yang Guo’s pain to have the fullest experience of the story. As Todd Brown succinctly put it in his review of the 1983 TV series, Yang Guo “has been repeatedly abandoned and abused by the adults in his life, leaving him both desperate for approval and deeply distrustful.” While I do not enjoy reading about Yang Guo being bullied, abused, and neglected, it is a necessary foundation for everything that is done with Yang Guo’s character later. I love reading about teenage Yang Guo kicking everybody’s ass because I know how much he suffered as a boy. Without that suffering …. I care a lot less about Yang Guo.

Furthermore, Wee Tian Beng also messed up the scene which made me fall in love with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ. Specifically, the first fight with Li Mochou in the Tomb of Living Death. I cannot get into details without spoilers, so let’s just say that I love the scene because it feels like it was ripped straight from a fairy tale, spiked with the kind of melodrama found in classic shoujo manga. First of all, Wee Tian Beng completely takes out the buildup to the fight. That is not horrible, but it does make things seem rather sudden. But—and this is what really bothers me—he also took the most dramatic, fairy-talish moment out. That just killed the scene for me.

So, between the way Yang Guo’s childhood was (not) shown and what it did to one of my favourite scenes, I was set to hate this adaptation.

Then, about a third of the way through, this manhua started being a lot more faithful to the novel. It started to include many of the things which The Legendary Couple left out, including some of the subtle little details. Of course, the subtler details matches the subtler art. And I found myself sucked back into the story again. I relived the experience of the novel, but I think even if I had not read the novel, this manhua would have still sucked me in.

For example, I think that this adaptation did another one of my favourite scenes—the trip Guo Jing and Yang Guo make to the Mongol camp—better than The Legendary Couple. Generally, I felt that The Legendary Couple gave the relationship between Guo Jing and Yang Guo short shrift, but because it glosses over it rather than actively butchers it, it did not bother me as much as what Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes did to the first fight in the Tomb of Living Death. Yet … this is one of those scenes where Yang Guo’s childhood suffering is very relevant. I love this scene because, in the novel, the suspense and the intensity made my heart leap into my throat. However, cutting back on Yang Guo’s childhood cuts the suspense and intensity of this scene, so while I appreciate Wee Tian Beng giving this scene a fuller treatment that Tony Wong, I cannot say “well done.”

Overall, this manhua is quite good at capturing the quiet melancholy of the story, as well has having the richest versions of the characters of any of the manhua reviewed thus far. And the melancholy is quite beautiful.

But.

While the story certainly has plenty of subtlety and quiet melancholy, some parts have all of the subtlely of a sword pierced through the chest (wrong novel, I know). While The Legendary Couple was not subtle, it could pierce. I don’t think Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes ever manages to be sufficiently sharp during those moments. Three examples:

Example 1: There is a scene where a father threatens to cut off his daughter’s arm. In The Legendary Couple, there is a full-page panel dedicated to this moment, highlighting the father’s intent and the daughter’s terror. In Wee Tian Being’s Return of the Condor Heroes, this moment is not shown as being particularly special. I actually like the way he draws the father’s calm resolve, however the daughter does not seem to be really terrified.

Example 2: (WARNING: if discussion of sexual assault triggers you, skip to Example 3) There is a rape scene. Here is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes:

“She looks so lovely and vulnerable … that’s a nice use of shadow … what a beautiful night, with the stars and the trees.”

This is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in The Legendary Couple:

“No, not this scene again. Maybe I should skip it … [shudder] the clothes have come off … no! Stop! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! DO NOT DO IT!!!!!!!!!!”

I will let you draw your own conclusions about which manhua evoked a more appropriate response to the rape scene.

Example 3: At one point in the story, a character’s hair turns white in the course of a single night.

In The Legendary Couple, it looks like this.

This is the same moment in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes.

Some people might prefer Wee Tian Beng’s quieter interpretation, but I think that if somebody has experienced something so horrible that his hair turns white in one night, exclamation points are called for. Generally, I feel that The Legendary Couple was much better at punching out the exclamation points.

Availability

Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which has been completely published in English. The publisher claims to still have the English-language edition for sale, but I have not personally confirmed this.

To the best of my knowledge, all Chinese language editions, both simplified and traditional characters, are out of print, but I can testify that it is still fairly easy to get the Taiwanese (traditional characters) edition, at least in Taiwan.

Conclusion

Ultimately, I think this manhua has more to offer than The Legendary Couple. I must find time to read The Celestial Zone some day. Yet I find The Legendary Couple flashing in my mind far more often than Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes. While it is less admirable, The Legendary Couple made a deeper impression on me.

Because of the problems with the first part of this manhua, I do not recommend making this one’s first contact with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ.

What I highly recommend for lovers of Asian comics is reading the seven ComicsOne volumes of The Legendary Couple first, and then proceed to read this. That is a nearly ideal manhua experience—ComicsOne edition cuts off right around the point Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes starts being better than The Legendary Couple, and readers can experience both interpretations of the story.

Of course, if you can, you really should read the novel. While both of the manhua adaptations are fine, neither can match the experience of the original.

Discussion Question:

Which do you think you would prefer, The Legendary Couple or Return of the Condor Heroes?

Sara K. loves dancing. She has taken ballet, swing, modern, jazz, Afro-Haitian, and noh dance classes. However, the dance of her dreams is tap dance. Of course, she thinks Swan is fantastic, and she also appreciates the way the characters in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes look like they are dancing.

A Devil and Her Love Song, Vol. 2

April 13, 2012 by Sean Gaffney

By Miyoshi Tomori. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialized in the magazine Margaret. Released in North America by Viz.

In Volume two of this series, we delve further into the psyches of both Maria and Kanda, and get a good look at how the series overall is going to shape up. Basically, if you dislike hardcore bullying, or people abuse authority? You may wish to consider another series. I wish you wouldn’t, though, as this is really quite good.

It can sometimes be frustrating that so many manga series are devoted to life in high school. Do we really need to relive those years all over again? And this volume is especially good at showing us the darker side of high school – Maria has virtually the entire class (save our two heroes, of course, as well as Tomoyo, the girl we dealt with in Volume 1) united against her, with Ayu Nakamura only being the most obvious. Given the nature of shoujo manga, I expect Maria will eventually win over one or two more of these girls, but in the meantime, it’s hard to take – especially given how vicious they are here, calling Maria a slut and ripping off her rosary (which them gets thrown away by the teacher.)

Oh yes, that teacher. Another trend of Japanese manga and anime dealing with bullying is that ‘blame the victim’ seems to be the norm (not that this is limited to Japan). Fruits Basket had Kisa being urged to “get stronger” so that she wouldn’t be bullied, and Medaka Box has a bullied track star afraid to tell anyone as *she* would be the one cut from the track team. Towards that end, we have the class’ sadistic teacher, who seems happy enough to use Maria to further his own ends. He’s over the top, yes, but I also liked the fact that he is a clever bully – he manages to turn things around against Kanda quite well, and is compared uncomfortably with him. Teachers in Japan hate the nail sticking up, which is exactly what Maria is – and what Kanda tried not to be every day.

Vol. 2 delves deeper into Kanda’s psyche, as we see not only how much of his everyday behavior is a false front, but how much he relies on that front to get him through life. Maria has no filters, so is unable to see just how people use them to make things less harsh. (I’ve noticed her tendency to use full last and first names with everyone.) The trouble with these filters, of course, is it makes it harder for genuine feelings to get through – on either side. Maria is so unfiltered that she makes an impression right away, but I also loved the end, where Maria notes that the class is so angry with Kanda because he was so important to them in the first place.

This is a 13-volume series, and we’re barely into it. Which makes sense, not because Maria will have to defeat and/or befriend teachers and bullying classmates in order to get that brass ring, but that it’s becoming clearer that the biggest obstacle is her own self-hatred. If Maria keeps thinking of herself as making everyone and everything around her worse, then she’s never going to be able to open up. She seems to realize this, and is happy that she came to this new school. As we get more of her backstory (and the cliffhanger here seems to imply the next volume may have more of it), hopefully we’ll get to see her begin to cope with not being a devil, but simply a teenager who’s been through a harsh life.

Off the Shelf: Generally A-squee

April 12, 2012 by MJ and Michelle Smith 3 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, MJ! Guess what I am doing this weekend?

MJ: What are you doing this weekend, Michelle?!

MICHELLE: I am going to a pen show! Specifically, a fountain pen show!

MJ: That sounds like a lot of fun! Um. For you. :D

MICHELLE: Mean! :) I am legitimately all asquee about it!

Is there any manga you’re asquee about this week?

MJ: I am happy for your squee! And yes, actually, I’m fairly asquee about all the manga I read this week.

First, this week I finally sat down with volume one of The Drops of God, the popular wine manga that’s been a New York Times bestseller for its US publisher, Vertical, Inc. Manga bloggers have been raving about this title since it was released, and our own Kate Dacey named volume three as a recent Pick of the Week. With all that hype, I figured it was inevitable that I’d be disappointed, but I actually had a lot of fun.

If there’s anyone left who is unfamiliar with the story, it begins as young salesman Shizuku is informed of the death of his estranged father, a legendary wine critic. While Shizuku rebelled by snubbing his father’s passion to go work for a beer company, his father apparently spent his final days formalizing the adoption of a young, hot-shot wine critic, Issei. Now Shizuku must compete with Issei for his father’s legacy by embarking on a quest to identify thirteen specific wines, including one known as “Kami no Shizuku” or “The Drops of God.” Finally discovering a love of wine after all these years, Shizuku throws himself wholeheartedly into the task with the help of a gifted sommelier-in-training, Miyabi.

Two things struck me immediately as I read this volume. First, as a fairly casual (if enthusiastic) wine drinker, and certainly a novice when it comes to French wine, I was impressed by how much the Kibayashi siblings (the brother and sister team behind the pen name Tadashi Agi) were able to teach me about wine without making me feel like I was watching a documentary. Secondly, though I know that this series ran in Morning, *wow* does it read like a shounen manga. From the characters’ nearly supernatural wine-tasting abilities to the protagonist’s pure-hearted launch into his father’s quest, this manga would not feel out of place in the pages of Weekly Shonen Jump. You know, except for the wine.

I had a lot of fun with this, as I mentioned in the beginning, though I’ll admit to a slight sense of weariness while plowing through some of the particularly over-the-top wine-tasting sequences, in which a sip of wine sends our hero into scenes of flowing fields and beautiful women he can’t *quite* reach until he finds the perfect one. Fortunately, there’s enough emotional truth to be found, especially in some of the manga’s primary relationships, to keep things grounded through its flights of fancy. Overall, I enjoyed myself immensely.

MICHELLE: I have the first three volumes right next to me, just waiting to be read. It sounds like the perfect blend of two stories I enjoy—seinen food manga, like Ekiben Hitoritabi, and sports manga wherein the hero discovers a passion and talent for something he had previously spurned and then tries to get better at it, like Slam Dunk.

MJ: Yes, I think with your love for shounen sports manga, you’ll find The Drops of God pretty irresistible. Also, I should mention that there is are at least a couple of fairly wonderful female characters, which is always a big draw for me.

So, is there anything besides pens eliciting your squee this week?

MICHELLE: Yes, though I think I will save the manga that pleased me most for my second pick and instead talk about volume two of A Devil and Her Love Song.

That isn’t to say that I disliked this, of course. The series—about Maria Kawai, a sharp-tongued girl in search of acceptance at an unremarkable high school after being expelled from a prestigious one—continues to be interesting and entertaining. In this volume, we begin to see how Maria’s personality can have a positive effect on those around her, as she indirectly influences two classmates to stop hiding beside unassuming façades and express their true selves. Of course, Maria can’t forget being told that she taints people, so she attempts to distance herself in an attempt to protect them. This can sometimes be irksome in a heroine—the whole “he/she is better off without me” routine—but it works for me here, since Maria has a legitimate reason for feeling this way and isn’t just being melodramatic.

While I definitely like Maria and the two boys most interested in her, the thoroughly over-the-top mean girls in the class leave me cold. I’d much prefer a nuanced antagonist, but instead they’re just as vile as can be. I can’t retain my composure when faced with the odious homeroom teacher, though—he is really, really horrible, especially for someone who’s in a position to be a positive influence in Maria’s life, if only he weren’t such a git.

I have a feeling volume three will be pretty awesome—Maria’s been tasked with coordinating her class’s entry into a choral competition—so, despite my small complaints, I’ve no intention of dropping the series.

MJ: I think I liked this volume more than you did overall. I was especially a fan of Tomoyo, the girl whose passive allegiance to the class’ mean girls caused so much trouble for Maria in the previous volume. She’s shaping up to be one of the series’ most interesting characters, I think. But wow, can I relate to your hatred for the homeroom teacher. He’s one of those characters I just want to reach out and punch with all my strength.

MICHELLE: Really, I didn’t dislike it! And you’re absolutely right about Tomoyo. I would love to see Maria realize that good things are happening to the people she has supposedly “tainted.” And I’m sure the series will go that route and will therefore be satisfying. And if that teacher could get sacked in glorious fashion, that would be icing on the cake!

What else did you read this week?

MJ: Well, you know I’ve been on a Keiko Kinoshita kick lately—a minor addiction that’s been primarily enabled by the Digital Manga Guild, which has been licensing her works left and right. Though I’m admittedly disappointed that I won’t be able to collect these in print, there is something pretty satisfying about being able to make an impulse purchase online and find myself reading the book on my iPad seconds later, which is what I did earlier this week with The Boyfriend Next Door, localized by the DMG group Kagami Productions.

Matsuda has finally moved to Tokyo to start university (after failing his entrance exams the year before). His big city apartment life gets off to a rocky start as he takes an immediate dislike to his new neighbor, Yaotome, a distant, fairly scruffy guy who appears to be raising his young daughter, Hana, alone. Fortunately, neighborly relations improve fairly quickly, and though Yaotome is definitely a hard nut to crack, Matsuda does eventually discover a few things about him, including the fact that he’s gay and that Hana is not his daughter.

Fans of Kinoshita’s work will not be surprised to discover that this is merely the simplest version of what is actually a much more complicated situation, and much of the manga involves unraveling the real truths behind Yaotome’s emotional unavailability. This volume is textbook Kinoshita in terms of its quiet delicacy and complex, slow-building romance, and it’s very satisfying on that front. What’s a little less satisfying, is that unlike most of her work that I’ve read, it feels a bit unfinished.

After discovering just how broken Yaotome really is, Matsuda decides he’s going to break through with the sheer power of devotion, though he’s obviously in for a long haul. Frustratingly enough, that’s where the story ends. And if I hadn’t been reading this on my precious, precious iPad, there’s a decent chance I might have thrown it across the room.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of ambiguous endings, and this volume is extremely satisfying all the way through. I’d recommend it without question. It’s just that I can’t help feeling that the real story was just getting started as I reached its final pages, and I was genuinely heartbroken not to be able to continue.

MICHELLE: Despite all of your praise, I have still never managed to find the time to read anything by Kinoshita. This does sound fairly captivating, though—is it an earlier work, perhaps? That might account for its unfinished feeling.

MJ: It’s kinda midway I think, but it’s certainly possible that she was asked to wrap it up suddenly, or perhaps never even got the chance to really wrap it up at all. Fortunately, You & Tonight (which is even better) is by most accounts still running, so I’ll let later volumes of that soothe my addiction as they arrive.

So, what else have you got for us this evening? And are you feeling asquee?

MICHELLE: I am! That’s because Dawn of the Arcana is a series that gets better with every volume! This week, I read volume three of this relatively new fantasy from VIZ’s Shojo Beat imprint and loved it without reservation.

For those who might not be aware, this is the story of Nakaba, princess of a struggling land called Senan, who is the product of her mother’s relationship with a man her family did not approve of. She’s allowed to live in the castle once her mother dies, but never accepted, and is eventually married off as a pawn to one of the princes of Senan’s rival country, Belquat.

Accompanying her is Loki, the faithful servant who has guarded her since infancy. Nakaba initially despised Caesar, her new husband, but he proves to be different than most of the people of Belquat, and she can’t help feeling something for them. But she feels terribly guilty about it since Loki still blames Belquat for the massacre of the village where he and Nakaba used to live, and is plotting revenge.

Man, this series is really getting good! We haven’t had too many shoujo fantasies released here, and those that were (primarily by CMX) were episodic comedies. Dawn of the Arcana is shaping up to have a really interesting political plot that is further complicated by Nakaba’s compelling dilemma—let herself be happy and in love with Caesar, or harden her heart and allow Loki to follow through with his plans. Not to mention the fact that Nakaba has inherited the special power possessed by the villagers and that a foreign prince, Akhil, not only wants her to use it on his behalf but is possibly capable of helping her develop it.

This actually reminds me a little bit of Basara, which coming from me is a major compliment. I don’t know whether Nakaba is going to lead any full-scale rebellion against a repressive government, but it doesn’t seem out of the question. Too, I can totally imagine her swaying Caesar to fight by her side. Does such epic greatness await? I hope so!

MJ: I agree that this series really is getting good! I was so pleased to finish volume three with none of the reservations I’d had after volumes one and two. It really has hit his stride, and I’m enjoying it completely. I’ve been reminded a bit of Basara as well, though I’m not quite as intimate with that series as you are (a temporary circumstance, I promise). I’m glad you’ve been enjoying this too!

MICHELLE: It’s always nice to discover something fabulous that one didn’t know anything about before. Thanks, VIZ!

MJ: Agreed!

Some review copies provided by the publishers.

Disclosure: MJ is currently under contract with Digital Manga Publishing’s Digital Manga Guild, as necessitated for her ongoing report Inside the DMG. Any compensation earned by MJin her role as an editor with the DMG will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund.

Manga the Week of 4/18

April 11, 2012 by Sean Gaffney

Man, April has been a very busy month for manga. Let’s see what’s hitting stores this week. It’s a lot.

Dark Horse, a company that’s cut back on manga in recent years, has three whole new books out! There’s Vol. 22 of popular violence ‘n service title Gantz. Vol. 41 of Oh My Goddess!, which is not known for its violence or fanservice. Well, not the kind of service Gantz offers, anyway. And after 7 years, we see Vol. 2 of The Monkey King, another adaptation of the famous story by Vampire Hunter D artist Katsuya Terada that ran in Shueisha’s Ultra Jump.

From Kodansha, we get Vol. 5 of their two newest Shonen Magazine titles. Thriller Bloody Monday (which reminds me of 24), and mystery Cage of Eden (which reminds me of Lost, only with far more shots of breasts drawn in loving close-up).

Seven Seas gives us two volumes that many folks got today from Diamond – for once, it’s Midtown being a week late. Blood Alone Vol. 6 has vampires in it. And Toradora Vol. 4 has tsunderes in it. It’s arguable which creature might be more scary to the average person…

Udon offers us Vol. 1 of a manga I know absolutely nothing about, Captain Commando. It seems to be some sort of superhero thing. And is apparently not from Japan, but original to this publisher? I guess? Looks interesting, at any rate.

Viz’s third week is usually its most interesting. We see Vol. 6 of my favorite Ikki title Dorohedoro; Vol. 6 of the Tenjo Tenge omnibus; and Vol. 2 of the X reprint, which should look gorgeous if nothing else. And apocalyptic.

Lastly, Yen has a giant pile of releases. New Betrayal Knows My Name. New Black Butler. New Black God. And that’s just the B’s! There’s also the 2nd Durarara!! manga, which should finally give us some Shizuo; a 6th volume of Zombie massacre title High School of the Dead; and the final volume of Higurashi’s latest arc, the Atonement Arc. After this we take a 5-month break before the next arc begins, so enjoy Higurashi now for the summer months!

So what are you getting out of that large pile of manga?

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: The Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre

April 10, 2012 by Sara K. 7 Comments

This is part four in a series of posts about the Condor Trilogy in Manhua. The previous posts are Introduction, Fighting, Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, and The Legendary Couple.

This manhua is by Ma Wing-shing, who is Hong Kong’s next most significant wuxia manhua artist after Tony Wong.

Whereas the other novels in the trilogy have been adapted multiple times into manhua, this is the only manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. Poor Zhang Wuji, nobody loves him. Well, maybe my friend loves him. She kept on asking me what I thought about him as I read the novel (“Isn’t he wonderful?” “Ummm, he’s still twelve years old” “Just wait until he becomes a man!”)

Speaking of Zhang Wuji and female attention, let’s check out his wedding.

Example Scene:

The young couple is getting married. And they love each other. They really do. This must be a happy scene where nothing goes wrong…

… aside from a Mongolian princess barging in.

The Mongolian princess asks the groom to jilt the bride. The groom says that if he did that, he would be a jerk.

The Mongolian princess seems to have something in her hand. Whatever it is, it makes the Chinese groom change his tune.

Hey, Chinese ~~people~~ bride, it’s time to PROTECT YOUR ~~COUNTRY~~ MAN FROM THE MONGOL ~~INVASION~~ PRINCESSS!

Go Chinese ~~people~~ bride, go!

*sigh* Bride, you’re not going to score any points if you beat up a helpless princess who … poisoned and kidnapped a bunch of the world’s most powerful martial artists … is the best schemer in the story … can get Zhang Wuji to crack a joke (before the Mongol princess showed up, I was under the impression that Zhang Wuji didn’t have a sense a humor) … okay, bride, if you take down the princess, you score ALL the points.

Given a choice between a Mongol princess who is trying to ruin his wedding and previously tried to kill him and his companions, and a woman that he loves and wants to marry, the groom is of course siding with the Mongol princess.

You know, I think most weddings would be improved if the bride and groom decided to break out into a kung-fu match in the midst of the ceremony. Too bad that this couple seems to be fighting for real.

Apparently the wedding is now messed up beyond all repair.

Game over. Mongol ~~empire~~ princess: 1; Chinese ~~people~~ bride: 0.

Adaptation

The manhua is paced very differently from the novel. Even though this manhua is 25 volumes long (Taiwan edition), the first 75% of the novel gets covered in the first 5 volumes, though some of the early scenes in the novel appear later in the manhua as flashbacks. Considering that the first half of the novel is about as brisk as rush hour traffic, this is not exactly a bad thing. Even so, the sheer speed did make me a little dizzy. The last three chapters of the novel, however, are covered in about 6 volumes, which allows much more room for nuance. While I will not say that the last three chapters are the best three chapters, the last fourth of the novel is certainly the best part, so I cannot exactly argue with this either.

However, while the pacing of the manhua is completely different from the novel, the plot is pretty much the same. Like every other adaptation of the Condor Trilogy, some details are left out. Yes, some of the moments which are missing are my personal favorites, but that’s always going to happen and I can always re-read the novels if I so wish.

Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì has less humor than the other parts of the trilogy, but whatever humor the story has, this manhua manages to kill it. For example, the socks scene is utterly serious—and I don’t mean that it is done deadpan style. It simply is not funny in the manhua. The only humor in this manhua is unintentional—such as the wedding scene described above (to be fair, I thought the wedding scene was quite funny in the original novel too, and I do not think that was Jin Yong’s intent).

The manhua is based on the second edition of the novel and has the second-edition ending (different editions have different endings). I also happened to read the second edition of the novel. My first reaction to the ending of the novel was “what the [expletive]!” and then I chose to be amused. Ma Wing-shing has a very different take on the second-edition ending—he presents it as being creepy and scary. (Which just goes to show how open-ended the second edition ending is.) Whereas I took the most light-hearted interpretation possible, Ma Wing-shing took the darkest interpretation possible. The line between comedy and tragedy can be quite fine.

Generally, out of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, this was the hardest one for me to get involved in the story. There were points when I got involved, but it felt like I was recalling how a given scene made me feel in the original novel rather than re-experiencing the scene anew. I think this is mainly an art issue, because aside from the pacing, timing, and some simplifications, the dialogue and the plot of the manhua are not that different from the novel.

Artwork

Ma has a more gritty-realistic style than Tony Wong. Though he can use an abundance of flourishes when he wishes, they do not have the eye-candy feel of Tony Wong’s visual flourishes. While the characters in Tony Wong’s manhua often seem to have a light spring to their steps, Ma’s characters move in a more grounded manner. Overall, where Tony Wong’s art expresses exuberance, Ma’s art expresses restraint—a restraint which sometimes bursts into an explosion of glory. And to be honest, I have trouble imagining a Tong Wong adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. While Tony Wong expresses excitement—whether of joy or angst—quite well, he is not so adept at expressing solemn, heavy feelings. Thus, I feel that the right artists were chosen for the right adaptations.

Because the manhua tries to cover the first three-fourths of the novel so quickly, the art is in rapid plot-exposition mode—which means there are a lot of talking heads. In the hands of an artist who is great at drawing talking heads, that would be sweet. Ma Wing-shing is not that kind of artist. Not only do the characters constantly seem to be wearing the same stoic expression, but they often look just like each other. I think that depicting the characters as constantly having a stoic expression is an interesting way to interpret Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì—but when you’re mostly seeing talking heads, it looks really monotonous.

Zhang Wuji is thinking about a certain Mongol Princess.

This moment is supposed to be full of feeling, but because the faces look just the same as they do in pretty much every other moment, I find it hard to feel the feeling.

However, while Ma is not good at expressing character through face or body, he can express the character’s inner life through composition, color, and motion.

For example, you can tell by the blues, the rain, the way the figure’s back is turned as his body fades into the storm, that this a sad, solemn moment.

But to express things through composition and color, one needs a high-page-to-plot ratio. Such a ratio does not exist in the first half in the manhua. There were flashes of Ma’s visual genius, even in the first half, but they were quickly buried in a sea of talking heads.

But when the page-to-plot ratio goes up? Ma demonstrates why he is one of Hong Kong’s most celebrated manhua artists. The last 8 or so volumes are GORGEOUS. When I say they are gorgeous, I mean they are full of pages like this (click to see them in larger size):

And this:

I am tempted to say that if Ma had expanded this story over more pages, the entire manhua could have been visually amazing. But I suspect Ma needed to be inspired to show his true capabilities, and that the first part of the story did not inspire him.

Please forgive my poor digital camera – it does not do the artwork justice.

More Thoughts on the Adaptation

This is my least favourite of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy.

The last fourth of the original novel kept my jaw fixed in a state of drop until it was over. When the manhua adaptation made my jaw drop, it was always because the art was stunning, not because the story swept me up again.

Perhaps the art and the story failed to connect because there was no focus. I would have been happy to read a manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì which threw the story to hell and focused on fantastic fight scenes—and I think Ma could have delivered such a version. I might also enjoy a manhua adaptation which focuses on the romance—as one can probably tell by my commentary on the wedding scene, I would have a lot of fun with that version.

The manhua adaptation I would really like to see is one which delved into the commentary on society and politics. Hong Kong wuxia manhua uses plenty of visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the battles. Why not use those visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the socio-political allegory? Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì would be the perfect story for this treatment. The title literally means “Relying on Heaven to Kill the Dragon Tale” and is usually interpreted to mean that when the emperor (dragon) is bad, the people who support justice (heaven) will remove him. And there are two blades—the Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre—which carry this metaphor throughout the story. Why not build on that? I think sequential art is the perfect medium for examining this side of the story. Alas, this manhua does not try to go there and mostly takes the story at face value.

And I think that might be the thing. This adaptation sticks too close to the surface. It is reasonably faithful to the letter of the story—more so than the Tony Wong adaptations. But it does not try to dig into any aspect of the story—not the battles, not the romance, not the camaraderie, not the social commentary, not the tragedy, and so forth. I already know the story, so I am not terribly interested in a shallow overview.

Availability in English

11 volumes of this manhua were published in English by ComicOne. They are out of print, and seem a little harder/more expensive to get than The Legendary Couple, but are apparently not too difficult to acquire. I do not know how the ComicOne volumes correspond to the Taiwan edition. Having only read the Taiwan edition, I also cannot comment on the translation.

To continue the story in English, Chu Yuan’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre Part 1 & 2 (1978), The New Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (1986), and The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (2009) are all available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

I think the only people who should read the ComicOne edition are people who really want to experience the story of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì in a printed medium and cannot read the novel. It is actually not a terrible adaptation, and can give one a sense of the story, even though it cannot replace the experience of reading the novel.

Everyone else—Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì fans, Ma Wing-shing fans, and so forth, should go straight to one of the Chinese-language editions, regardless of one’s Chinese reading ability or lack thereof. If one wishes to invest money in this manhua, there is no reason to deny oneself the splendor of the late volumes.

Speaking of gorgeous art, the question is:

Whose art style do you prefer, Tony Wong’s or Ma Wing-shing’s?

Sara K. has tried martial arts herself. She has taken kickboxing and Tai Chi (Chen style) classes, and has gone up to green belt in Tae Kwon Do. She is slow and her arms are weak. She is flexible, has a good sense of balance, and has powerful legs. If she found herself in hand-to-hand combat, she would use her arms mostly for defense and use her legs mostly for offense. Her bones have an unusual structure, which means that certain arm twists which work on most people do not work on her (and would offer her an excellent opportunity to send her opponent a surprise elbow jab), however her unusual bone structure also makes her more prone to injuries in general. If she were to study a new martial art, she would choose archery.

The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, Vol. 12

April 10, 2012 by Sean Gaffney

By Eiji Otsuka and Housui Yamazaki. Released in Japan as “Kurosagi Shitai Takuhaibin” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Shonen Ace. Released in North America by Dark Horse.

It’s been a long, long wait, but it’s great to see a new volume of this horror/comedy/workplace series. The reasons for the long wait are many: first off, I imagine Carl Horn was quite busy, as he also edits all the Oh My Goddess and Evangelion titles for Dark Horse, and OMG was on a ‘speed-up’ release schedule. He also had Excel Saga 22 and 23 in there somewhere. But mostly I suspect it’s due to poor sales, as Carl admits in the liner notes. This is why the cover for Vol. 12 is now a normal manga cover as opposed to that cardboardey-feeling cover we had for 1-11. Luckily, the content inside is still excellent.

That cover image above comes without the little ‘Parental Advisory: Explicit Content’ sticker partially obscuring Sasaki’s face, but the sticker is most definitely needed, as this particular volume has explicit sex to go with its explicit gore. No, Karatsu hasn’t gotten it on with either Sasaki or Kikuchi – though he and Sasaki are absent from the last story for a “trip to Hawaii” that’s apparently in Vol. 13. Instead the first story deals with the dangers of virtual reality RPGs, and also trying to sell your identity – or buy another one. As you can imagine, when unscrupulous people get a hold of something shady that needs marketing, bad things happen. Note this is not only the most sexually explicit in the volume, with both sex and nudity, but it’s also the goriest – “Talk about loss of face!” is a grotesque pun here. It also has the most unpleasant of this volume’s villains. Luckily, she gets hers as our heroes make another of their grand entrances. And as a bonus, Sasaki gets to wear another ridiculously impractical outfit, even if only in VR.

The middle story was my favorite, even though I knew it would end poorly. It features a washed-out comic and a club hostess who meet cute, immediately fall for each other, and are basically adorable. In *this* series? You know how long they’ll last. That said, the adorable is there, and it’s refreshing seeing Eiji Otsuka writing the closest this series will ever get to romantic comedy. This story deals with both discorporation – the talent of the hostess girl – and the Japanese housing market, which proves to be as bloody and cutthroat as anything else in this series. It’s also a rather cynical take on the world of showbiz comedians, with the villains here giving off a very seedy, sub-Jerry Lewis vibe. It also has the happiest of the three endings – well, as happy as you’re gonna get.

Lastly, we have a story about a dollmaker longing for his dead sister, who passed away during World War II. Unfortunately, this also ties in with both Korean politics (which the authors have gone into before, possibly as it makes Japan very uncomfortable, and they love pushing buttons) and realdolls (complete with many creepy otaku and some cameos of dolls based on Ayanami from Evangelion and Yoko from Gurren Lagann). It’s the weakest story in the volume, possibly due to Karatsu and Sasaki’s absence (Makino is there but doesn’t do much, as per usual, but that does leave the bulk of things to the “goofy” characters), but not without merit, and has a morbidly cynical punchline. Plus there’s some more Makino/Yata ship tease, which pleases me.

For those wondering about the small fragments of plot that have been going through previous volumes, well, there’s none of that here. What we get is a strong horror manga, with dark veins of comedy and a few heartwarming spots (OK, very few). It’s a solid series that needs more love.