Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: Star Wars

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I was five years old when Star Wars: A New Hope blasted its way into movie theaters. Like most members of Generation X, the film cast a long shadow over my childhood, dictating my Halloween costumes, afterschool play, Happy Meal purchases, toy collections, and clothing; I had Princess Leia action figures, Star Wars drinking glasses, Star Wars t-shirts, and a Star Wars beach towel. One of the few tie-in products I didn’t own, however, was a comic book adaptation of the movie. I’d purchased The Star Wars Storybook at a Scholastic book fair in 1978, but never knew that Marvel Comics or manga publishers were peddling something similar.

That’s a pity, because Star Wars has a long and fascinating history in print. Marvel’s six-issue adaptation of A New Hope, for example, was cooked up by a Lucasfilm executive to drum up business for the film — in essence, it was a trailer for comic geeks, arriving on newsstands a month before the movie opened. Though Marvel executives had been reluctant to license Star Wars — according to former editor Jim Shooter the “Prevailing Wisdom” at Marvel was that “science fiction doesn’t sell”  — it proved one of the company’s best business decisions of the 1970s. “The first two issues of our six issue adaptation came out in advance of the movie,” Shooter observed:

Driven by the advance marketing for the movie, sales were very good. Then about the time the third issue shipped, the movie was released. Sales made the jump to hyperspace. Star Wars the movie stayed in theaters forever, it seemed. Not since the Beatles had I seen a cultural phenomenon of such power. The comics sold and sold and sold. We reprinted the adaptation in every possible format. They all sold and sold and sold.

By contemporary standards, Roy Thomas and Howard Chaykin’s version is skillful but a little stodgy, relying on voice-overs to introduce key characters and explain plot points, rather than allowing the art to shoulder the responsibility of telling the story. Nonetheless, as Star Wars fever crossed the Pacific, Weekly Shonen Magazine republished Thomas and Chaykin’s comic, touching off a Star Wars manga blitz in Japan.

Japan caught Star Wars fever again in 1997, when the Special Edition trilogy hit theaters across the globe. Kadokowa’s MediaWorks division churned out a new set of Star Wars manga, hiring Hisao Tamaki (A New Hope), Toshiki Kudo (The Empire Strikes Back), and Shin-Ichi Hiromoto (Return of the Jedi) to handle the adaptations. And while all three are good, faithfully reproducing the main beats from each film, Tamaki’s version of A New Hope is that rarest of tie-in products: it captures the look and feel of the movie without slavishly copying it, offering both a fresh perspective on a canonical text and a point of entry for someone wholly unfamiliar with Star Wars. 

Part of what makes Tamaki’s version so fascinating is how he compensates for the absence of a soundtrack — no mean feat, given how noisy the Star Wars universe is. While Tamaki uses plenty of hand-lettered sound effects, he never uses them as a crutch, instead finding nifty ways to help us imagine the sound of a landspeeder skimming the desert floor or a Stormtrooper firing his blaster. Tamaki’s most effective tactic is careful attention to the velocity and direction of moving objects; through deft placement of speedlines and artful manipulation of the panels’ shape and size, he conveys the same information that a well engineered roar, squeak, thud, or electronic rumble might.

Then there’s the film’s lush, Wagnerian score, the kind of movie music that had been fashionable in the era of Ben Hur and Lawrence of Arabia but was considered unhip in the gritty, naturalistic world of early 70s cinema. The opening fanfare and dense web of leitmotifs are unquestionably part of A New Hope‘s appeal, goosing fight scenes and capturing the melancholy of a young Luke Skywalker as he gazes at a Tatooine sunset. Absent those musical prompts, however, Tamaki is forced to think about how to elicit the same emotions in words and pictures. One of the most dramatically successful attempts to bridge sound and silence occurs in volume one of Tamaki’s adaptation, right after R2D2 and C3PO land on Tatooine:

In the film, John Williams accompanies C3PO’s trek with music cribbed from The Rite of Spring — a decent choice, as Stravinsky’s dour ostinati and octatonic harmonies imbue the harsh landscape with an otherworldly quality. Tamaki, however, distills this two-minute scene to an evocative two-page spread in which a wide-angle view of the Tatooine desert unfolds beneath the individual panels, reminding us just how small and vulnerable both droids are. These images track closely with Lucas’ own vision, but the implied silence of the first and final panels in this sequence more powerfully conveys C3PO’s isolation than any musical gesture could:

The absence of sound has another unexpected benefit: minus the actors’ desperate attempts to make George Lucas’ dialogue sound… well, like conversation, the script has more room to breathe. Tamaki plays the earnest stuff straight and ramps up the comedy whenever someone is surprised or indignant. Luke, in particular, benefits from such an approach, given his age and naivete; in Tamaki’s hands, he’s Monkey D. Luffy with a lightsaber, freaking out over chores, the Millennium Falcon’s shabby appearance, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s death, a kiss from Princess Leia… you get the idea. Tamaki’s elastic deformations of Luke’s face transform him from blandly handsome farm boy to Shonen Jump hero, equal parts brave and ridiculous:

One of the manga’s other great virtues is its ability to expand and contract time in ways that a purely temporal medium like film can’t. The ability to speed up and slow down the unfolding the plot isn’t unique to comics, of course; filmmakers can use slow motion imagery or cross-cutting to manipulate the viewer’s perception of time, but a good manga artist takes advantage of the fact the reader can, in fact, stop time by poring over an image or a scene for minutes, savoring small but telling details that would otherwise get lost in the cinematic flow. Writing for Animerica in 2004, Patrick Macias offered a thoughtful explanation of how this kind of creative expansion of time adds new layers of meaning to Tamaki’s story:

It is in Tamaki’s take on destruction of the planet Alderaan that he really shows off his stuff. A scene that took mere moments to depict on-screen is drawn out to fill half a dozen pages. He inserts images of the Alderaan populace looking up to the heavens, and you can almost hear those “millions of voices suddenly crying out in terror” with more dramatic impact in the manga than in the film.

Of course, none of this would matter if Tamaki lacked the precision to bring Lucas’ vision to life on page. Again and again, Tamaki delivers amazingly detailed drawings of space ships, aliens, and weapons that pulse with the same life as Katsuhiro Otomo’s AKIRA and Shirow Masamune’s Ghost in the Shell; if you’d never seen or heard of Star Wars, you might reasonably infer that Tamaki dreamt up this world on his own. Tamaki proves equally adept at staging deep space dogfights, too, conveying both the dizzying speed with which the ships are moving and the maze-like surface of the Death Star:


For readers coming to the manga from the films, the biggest stumbling block will be the character designs: did Tamaki get them right? The short answer is yes, if you can tolerate a little artistic license with hairdos and body types. Not surprisingly, R2D2 and C3PO look most like their big-screen counterparts — no pesky noses or mouths to draw — but the rest of the cast bear a passing-to-strong resemblance to the actors who portrayed them, though Obi-Wan Kenobi looks and moves more like Chuck Norris than Sir Alec Guiness. Tamaki does an even better job of bringing Darth Vader and his Stormtroopers to life on the page, adding an extra touch of menace in the way he draws their helmets; you can almost see the soldiers grimacing under their plastic armor from the way he draws their browlines.

If I’ve sold you on manga Star Wars, you’ll be happy to know it’s a relatively inexpensive way to relive the original trilogy. The digital versions — currently available through Amazon and ComiXology — retail for $1.99 per volume. There’s also a Phantom Menace manga for the morbidly curious; Kia Asamiya is the author, and he’s been given the truly thankless task of condensing that stinker into two volumes. At least it won’t be as interminable as the movie.

WORKS CONSULTED

Macias, Patrick. “Star Wars, The Manga.” Animerica, VIZ LLC, 7 Apr. 2004, https://web.archive.org/web/20040407180902/http://www.animerica-mag.com/features/starwars.html. Accessed 27 Dec. 2017.

Rickard, Ron. “Retro Foreign: Japanese Weekly Shōnen Magazine #18 – 23 (1978).” Star Wars Comic Collector, 20 May 2016, http://swcomiccollector.blogspot.com/2016/05/retro-foreign-japanese-weekly-shonen.html. Accessed 27 Dec. 2017.

Shooter, Jim. “Roy Thomas Saved Marvel.” Jim Shooter, 5 July 2011, https://web.archive.org/web/20150912134444/http://www.jimshooter.com/2011/07/roy-thomas-saved-marvel.html. Accessed on 28 Dec. 2017.

Spellman, Ron. “A Long Time Ago: The Strange History of Marvel’s Original Star Wars Universe.” Comics Alliance, Townsquare Media, 28 Jan. 2016, http://comicsalliance.com/original-marvel-star-wars-comics-history/. Accessed 28 Dec. 2017.

Tamaki, Hisao. Star Wars: A New Hope, adapted from an original script by George Lucas, Marvel Comics, 1998. 4 vols.

Pick of the Week: Week And Year

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ASH: It doesn’t seem like there are any truly quiet weeks when it comes to manga releases anymore, but the last week of year does tend to be smaller than others. Still, it’s not hard for me to find something to read. My pick for the week is the most recent volume of Land of the Lustrous, a series I appreciate for its philosophical musings and striking artwork even if its plot can be a little haphazard.

Looking back over everything published in 2017 there have been some tremendous releases; it’s been a great year for manga. The debut series that left the greatest impression on me was Nagabe’s beautiful and haunting The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún. The manga is both charming and unsettling, with Nagabe’s exceptional storytelling and atmospheric artwork making it one of the most stand out releases of the year.

MICHELLE: I absolutely agree with Ash for my pick of the year, though honorable mention goes to Chihayafuru.

For this week, I’m most looking forward to the fourth volume of The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window. This complicated, suspenseful story is BL at its best.

SEAN: The week itself does not impress me that much, so I will pick the new volume of The Full-Time Wife Escapist.

And though it seems a bit premature to make a Pick of the Year for something that only debuted in December, I’m still so blown away by The Promised Neverland that I’m going with that one. It may get too bleak for me in future, but for now I can’t look away.

KATE: I liked the first volume of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime. Aside from some totally gratuitous fan service, it was snappy, funny, and heart warming in an unexpected way. The release of volume three seems like a fine excuse to get caught up with Rimuru’s adventures.

As for my pick of the year, it’s Furari, one of the late, great Jiro Taniguchi’s final works. The manga reads like a mash-up of The Times of Botchan and The Walking Man, focusing on Tadataka Ino, a real cartographer who lived in Edo. As with Walking Man, not much happens story-wise, but the book offers a vibrant portrait of eighteenth-century urban life — think Richard Scarry’s Busy Town, Busy People for grown-ups.

ANNA: Although I’m shamefully behind on the series, the most interesting thing coming out this week to me is The Full-Time Wife Escapist. I’m glad others have selected The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, it is absolutely a standout title.

When I was thinking about my pick of the year, the first thing that came to my mind was The Water Dragon’s Bride. Well executed fantasy shoujo should be celebrated! I also agree that Chihayafuru deserves a shout-out as well.

Kigurumi Guardians, Vol. 1

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The first ten or so pages of Kigurumi Guardians are a gas. Hakka, a cheerful fifteen-year-old, comes home from school to find a kigurumi (animal mascot) in her kitchen. Though Ginger looks like the product of a Holstein/penguin tryst, no one in Hakka’s family is fazed by Ginger’s appearance, treating him like one of Hakka’s classmates. And if the Sasakuras’ warm embrace of Ginger wasn’t strange enough, Ginger’s method of communication puts things over the top: he’s reduced to scrawling short messages on cue cards since he can’t speak. Not until Hakka attends a school council meeting does she learn that Ginger is one of three animal-shaped guardians defending Earth from a race of puppet masters, and she’s his new handler.

So far, so good: the oddball premise, brisk pacing, and tart exchanges between Hakka and Ginger are executed with comic zest. As Hoshino begins laying the groundwork for the magical combat, however, it becomes clear that she’s making it up as she goes along. That tendency is most pronounced in the fight scenes, which are devoid of any tension, surprise, or humor, since it’s a forgone conclusion that Hoshino will think of a new rule or magical power that helps her heroes win the day.

More problematic is the dynamic between Hakka and Ginger. Bickering leads are a staple ingredient of romantic comedies, but the main point of contention between girl and mascot gets hammered into the ground by the end of chapter three. That joke — if one can call it a joke — is that Hakka must kiss Ginger to activate his magical powers; when she does, he immediately transforms into a dashing young warrior. Hakka hates kissing Ginger, but is repeatedly forced to go against her own wishes because, y’know, Earth’s future hangs in the balance. In our current #MeToo moment, this gag is an unpleasant reminder of how many books, movies, television shows, and manga reinforce the idea that women who refuse unwanted hugs and kisses are difficult, confused, or selfish.

It’s a shame that this gag is so central to the story, as Hoshino clearly intends Guardians to be naughty fun for teen girls — why else would all three mascots transform into tousle-haired bishonen?— but gets too caught up in drawing costumes and mascots to pay careful attention to the plot or consider the full implications of Hakka and Ginger’s relationship. By the end of volume one, the story has traded wacky hijinks for messy fight scenes and sappy conversations, losing its screwball zing in the process.

The verdict: File under D, for disappointment, and S, for squandered potential.

KIGURUMI GUARDIANS, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY LILY HOSHINO • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED: TEEN (13+) • 160 pp.

Pick of the Week: A Bounty of Manga

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SEAN: Honestly, there’s just too much stuff. I feel like I’m drowning in choices. And so (because I suspect the rest of the group will go with CLAMP) I will go with an old favorite and pick the new Umineko When They Cry omnibus volume, Requiem of the Golden Witch. Fans love this arc, and the manga adaptation of it is supposed to be quite good. And at 826 pages, it can also be used as a blunt object.

KATE: I’m torn between the latest volumes of Golden Kamuy and Happiness, two of my favorite ongoing series. Since choosing between them seems like deciding whether you like your daughter better than your son, I’m going with Junji Ito’s Shiver, which has been getting great advanced buzz.

MICHELLE: I am actually not going to go with CLAMP, despite my intense love of Kero-chan, because this is the last time I can choose Say I Love You. I’ve enjoyed this series a lot, and have been anticipating this final volume for a long time. It’s definitely a must-buy for me this week.

ASH: So much manga! And so many new volumes in series that I’m following! Although I will certainly be giving the new Cardcaptor Sakura a try, I will continue to thwart Sean’s prediction by choosing another debut. Kate already has Shiver covered, which I’ll definitely be reading, but I’m also incredibly curious about Graineliers, so that’s my pick!

ANNA: I feel like one of us should not thwart Sean’s prediction! Thus, Cardcaptor Sakura is my pick! Let’s hope it is more like early CLAMP and less like late CLAMP!

MJ: Wow, I’m really torn here. I have a deep, deep love for Cardcapter Sakura so it’s really hard for me to let that go. But I don’t necessarily trust CLAMP to recreate that magic for me at this point, and I’m really a sucker for a new GFantasy title, so I’m with Ash on Graineliers! Thanks, Anna, for making Sean’s prediction at least a little true!

SEAN: I’m not sure I trust all this love for Grenaliers. I think the love for it may have been… planted. (puts on sunglasses, Roger Daltrey scream)

MJ: Wow.

Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics

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The strengths and weaknesses of Paul Gravett’s latest book are neatly encapsulated in its title. Though the book purports to be a “definitive guide to Asian comics,” Gravett’s true aim is to trace the influence of the Japanese manga industry on comic book traditions across the Asian continent, from China and South Korea to Bhutan, India, Indonesia, Malayasia, Mongolia, and Vietnam.

Gravett’s thesis rests on two core assumptions. First, he argues that manga is Asia’s dominant comic book tradition, as evidenced by its “cultural influence and its extraordinary sales figures” (24); even Japan’s dojinshi (amateur) scene, he observes, “has more participants and publications than entire national markets” (31). Second, Gravett argues that colonialism played an essential role in extending manga’s reach beyond Japanese borders. The first wave of colonization was physical: as Japan invaded and occupied neighboring countries, manga proved “an ideal medium for spreading propaganda about the benefits of Japan’s leadership” and painting the Japanese as liberators, freeing Asia from Europe’s tyrannical grasp. The second wave of colonization was virtual: in the years following World War II, a demilitarized Japan reinvented itself as an industrial powerhouse, exporting consumer goods and pop-cultural products — manga, anime, and video games — in what Gravett characterizes as a “soft cultural invasion” of Asia and the West (14-15).

Gravett eschews a strictly chronological or geographical approach to the material, instead grouping his examples under six suggestive headings: “Mapping Mangasia,” “Fable and Folklore,” “Recreating and Revising the Past,” “Stories and Storytellers,” “Censorship and Sensibility,” and “Multimedia Mangasia.” This thematic approach gives him the freedom to explore parallels between manga and other Asian comic traditions in a creative — if sometimes non-linear — fashion. In his introductory chapter, for example, he traces the influence of Western comic strips across East Asia, showing how syndicated cartoons such as George McManus’ Bringing Up Father (1913-2000) and Oscar Jacobsson’s Adamsson (1920-1953) helped popularize the comic strip format with artists in Japan, Korea, China, and the Philippines, inspiring them to develop their own characters who were wrestling with “the allure of affluence, the desire for upward social mobility, and the nostalgia… for simpler past pleasures,” just as McManus’ Jiggs and Maggie did (28).

Two later chapters — “Recreating and Revising the Past” and “Censorship and Sensibility” — offer Gravett an opportunity to examine the complex dynamic between nationalism, censorship, and comics. Using the Phillippines as an example, Gravett explores the changing way in which Filipino artists depicted Japanese colonialism. His analysis focuses on three series: The Kalibapi Family, a wartime comic strip created at the behest of the Japanese Propaganda Corps; Kalawang sa Bakal (Corrosion of Steel), one of the first postwar comics to grapple with the horrors of Japan’s invasion of the Philippines; and Suicide Susy, a long-running series that pitted a spunky Filipina saboteur against Japanese soldiers. Over the course of forty years, Gravett observes, Japanese characters evolved from benign overlords to symbols of foreign oppression, reminders of Filipino collaboration, and — in the Marcos era — bumbling villains whose foolish antics distracted from the Marcos’ ruthless treatment of their own people.

“Censorship and Sensibility” also delves into gender politics. As one might expect, Gravett addresses genres such as yaoi, recognizing them as both pornography and resistance. “Manga about male-male romance,” he argues, “offer women an expressive playground in which to question and customize the alternatives to the oppressive heteronormativity of the powerful male and the weak female” (217). Gravett examines the legal complexities of obscenity laws as well, using Rokudenashiko’s protracted battle with the Japanese government to expose the inherent misogyny in many such regulations. He notes that she was convicted of distributing digital pictures of her vagina, but not for hanging manko (pussy) art in a gallery that only admitted women. “In the Japanese court’s eyes,” Gravett drily notes, “only men can be aroused by a vagina” (218-19).

For sheer visual beauty, Mangasia‘s stand-out chapter of  is “Fables and Folklore,” which focuses on comic-book adaptations of such important national texts as the Romance of the Three Kingdoms (China) and the Ramayana (India). The imagery runs the gamut from the merely functional to the photorealistic, with some genuinely striking selections. Zhang Guangyu’s wordless treatment of Journey to the West (1945), for example, is a unique synthesis of Chinese, Persian and Mexican influences, yielding a series of images that are at once playful and somber, rendered in a muted palette similar to Diego Rivera’s most famous murals, while Anant Pai and Ram Waeerkar’s Hanuman (1971) strikes an elegant balance between classical Hindu depictions of the popular deity and contemporary portrayals of superheroes and martial artists.

As one might expect from such a wide-ranging book, Mangasia‘s chief fault is its ambition: Gravett discusses examples from nineteen countries over a 100-year period, a tall order for a single volume. Important texts and artists get a few sentences each, making it difficult to fully appreciate their impact on the comics medium in their own countries or elsewhere. Likewise, historical contexts are rendered in broad strokes, through timelines and generalizations. In “Stories and Storytellers,” for example, Gravett asserts that “In the aftermath of World War II, the next generation in Japan strived to make their lives better,” a sentence that only hints at the incredible devastation caused by American bombing, or the economic hardships faced by ordinary Japanese citizens in the 1950s (164).

The title itself points to another drawback of Gravett’s approach: some of the examples in Mangasia bear only a tenuous visual connection to manga. In the absence of a clear, specific discussion of how manga influenced comics outside the immediate sphere of Japanese colonization, the reader is left to wonder whether a comic book retelling of the Mahabharata owes a debt to Shotaro Ishimonori, or if the story borrows more heavily from Indian sources. Some attempt to demonstrate the size of the international manga market, identify the countries where manga is most popular with readers, discuss the global piracy of manga, or examine manga fandoms across the Asian continent would have provided useful context for understanding how manga has insinuated itself into such a diverse array of comic traditions.

Whatever the limitations of a pan-Asian survey, Gravett recognizes the enormous cultural, religious, and historical differences that separate Muslim Indonesia from Hindu India, Buddhist Tibet, and the Catholic Philippines. If these differences are sometimes glossed over in service to his thesis, Gravett nonetheless does an admirable job of balancing discussion of Asian comics as a singular phenomenon and Asian comics as a set of discrete but overlapping traditions. The book’s design complements Gravett’s curatorial approach with evocative juxtapositions that reveal how certain themes and storytelling techniques manifest themselves across cultural lines.

The real stars of the show, however, are the 1,000 images that grace Mangasia‘s pages, allowing readers to see the transformation of a rough pencil sketch into a finished page, savor the richly saturated color palette and dynamic flow of a martial-arts adventure, and note the growing influence of digital technology on comic art. Whether you’re a manga reader or a comics scholar, the best way to tackle Mangasia is to follow Park Chan-wook’s advice, which appears at the very beginning of the text. “There’s the joy of simply taking in the art,” he observes (13), an apt assessment of this fascinating, flawed book’s appeal. Recommended.

Thames & Hudson provided a review copy.

Gravett, Paul. Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics, foreword by Park Chan-wook, Thames & Hudson, 2017.

Manga the Week of 12/20/17

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SEAN: Are you ready? 3-2-1 let’s jam.

MICHELLE: *cracks knuckles in a preparatory fashion*

ASH: Get everybody and the stuff together, because there’s a lot of it!

KATE: There is SO MUCH MANGA that even I had to chime in.

SEAN: We start with Bookwalker, who has the second volume of their light novel The Combat Baker and the Automaton Waitress. I felt it was a good series for them to pick up (certainly better than their other LN series), and will be getting this volume.

J-Novel Club has the 4th volume of Arifureta: From Commonplace to World’s Strongest, which remains the top choice for those who like overpowered isekai and take it Very Seriously Indeed.

Kodansha has many, many things, both digital and print, which I will tackle alphabetically, starting with a 4th All Out!!.

MICHELLE: Woot!

SEAN: Attack on Titan has a big change coming with the 23rd volume, one that (like everything Attack on Titan has ever done) has gotten a mixed reaction.

Cardcaptor Sakura remains one of CLAMP’s most beloved franchise, despite age, appalling Nelvana dubs, and Tsubasa World Chronicle. Now we finally get a sequel with Clear Card, which apparently picks up where the old series left off. I will give it a shot, though I warn you I’m mostly reading for Tomoyo.

MICHELLE: This has been available digitally for a while, and I read it in that format. It’s a cute start, and I loved seeing Kero-chan again.

MJ: I’m obviously on board for this.

ANNA: I enjoy early CLAMP, and am leery of recent CLAMP. That being said, due to my love of Cardcaptor Sakura, I will check this out.

ASH: Same! I really do love Cardcaptor Sakura, though.

SEAN: DEATHTOPIA has its 7th and penultimate volume coming out next week.

And there’s also a 4th volume of Elegant Yokai Apartment Life.

If you haven’t yet picked up Ghost in the Shell’s hardcover deluxe editions, why not get them in a handy box set?

We’ve caught up with Japan for Happiness, so it’s nice to see a 6th volume drop.

ASH: I need to catch up with this series, myself!

KATE: The last volume of Happiness had a big time jump and shift in emphasis — something that worked surprisingly well, and and promoted one of the most interesting (and resourceful) supporting characters to a leading role.

SEAN: Inuyashiki comes to an end with its 10th and final volume. It’s always been a bit too weird for me, but then I felt the same way about Gantz.

Kasane has an 8th volume of suspense and horror.

The digital debut next week is The Prince’s Black Poison, a Betsufure romance that honestly sounds like exactly the sort of title I avoid, but what the hey. Recommended for those who like handsome manipulative men. It’s by the author of Gakuen Prince, which was also very much filled with those.

MICHELLE: Oh dear.

ANNA: Feeling sort of meh on this.

SEAN: And Real Girl has a 9th volume of whatever it is Real Girl does, besides remind me how many of these Kodansha digital titles I have yet to sample.

Say “I Love You” has come to its 18th and final volume. Despite the occasional overdose of melodrama, I greatly enjoyed this series, and am happy to see the conclusion after a long wait (we had, again, caught up with Japan).

MICHELLE: I’ve been awaiting this release for a long time!

SEAN: If you haven’t picked up A Silent Voice’s 7 volumes, Kodansha has a box set for you! (Both this and the Ghost in the Shell box are clearly meant for Christmas purchases.)

Speaking of the author of A Silent Voice, we’re getting a 2nd To Your Eternity next week as well.

ASH: Definitely picking this one up. The first volume was very good and surprising in ways that I didn’t expect.

KATE: What Ash said; To Your Eternity is definitely on my short list of Best Sci-Fi manga of 2017.

SEAN: A 6th Tsuredure Children has more 4-koma romance.

And Until Your Bones Rot has a 3rd volume of what is, let’s face it, NOT 4-koma romance.

Seven Seas is next. Arpeggio of Blue Steel is up to its 12th volume, and I’m still really interested in it, which is surprising given it’s about a bunch of cute girls who are really boats.

There’s also a 3rd “not Alice in the Country of Hearts, but the next best thing” series Captive Hearts of Oz.

Unlucky it may be, but the fact that Magical Girl Apocalypse has gotten to Vol. 13 means it’s popular as well.

Seven Seas is starting to pick up light novels that aren’t J-Novel Club print editions, and we begin with Monster Girl Doctor, whose title speaks for itself, though I’m not sure how this falls on the scale between ‘fetishey’ and ‘spooky’ monster girls.

And if that’s too millennial for you, how about a series from the 1980s? We get the first in the Record of Lodoss Wars novels, The Grey Witch, in a fancy hardcover edition.

MJ: It’s hard for me to dismiss something from the 80s…

ASH: It really is fancy! I’m looking forward to giving the Lodoss novels a try.

SEAN: Chi’s Sweet Coloring Book is a spinoff from Vertical featuring lots and lots of pictures of Chi to color.

Speaking of cats, Nekomonogatari (Black): Cat Tale is the first of a two-part set in the Monogatari series that finally resolves most of Tsubasa Hanekawa’s ongoing issues.

And there’s also a 4th Flying Witch.

Viz gives us a 3rd Golden Kamuy, which I suspect will have a bit less cooking and a bit more life-threatening violence this time around, but who knows?

ASH: I plan on finding out!

KATE: I seem to be stalking you through this week’s column, Ash! I’m butting in to say GOLDEN KAMUY IS AWESOME. I think Asirpa deserves her own damn series. Heck, it could be a cooking manga and I’d read it.

SEAN: If you want to get someone something terrifying for Christmas, you absolutely can’t go wrong with Shiver, a collection of stories selected by the author, Junji Ito.

ASH: I’m always happy to see more Ito being released! This collection should be great.

KATE: Nothing says “Deck the halls” than a little Junji Ito, I always say.

SEAN: And if you want to give some yuri manga, there’s a 2nd Sweet Blue Flowers omnibus.

MICHELLE: Yay!

ANNA: Behind on this already but I’m gonna read it!

ASH: You absolutely should! I’m so glad this series is finally getting the treatment it deserves in English.

SEAN: Lastly (for Viz only, trust me – we’re not even halfway), we have the 2nd Tokyo Ghoul: re.

And now on to Yen Press, pausing only to scream until our throats are raw and we are coughing up blood. (pause) There we go. Onward.

First off, we have the digital-only titles. Aphorism 13 is the second to last volume, and is for fans of survival manga.

Corpse Princess is up to its 14th volume, but it still has a long way to go. It should appeal to fans of fanservice and zombies.

And Saki 13 means we’re close to catching up, but that’s an ongoing series, so no worries there either. Recommended to those who like mahjong and breasts, not in that order.

On the Yen On side, we finish the digital catch-up for Accel World (9-11) and Irregular at Magic High School (5).

There’s also a new digital release of an older, pre-Yen On title. Kieli was a 2009 series of novels about a girl who can see ghosts, and it had an associated manga as well. Yen now has the digital rights to the novels, so we get the first one next week.

There are also a GIANT number of ongoing and new light novels in print. We get a 12th Accel World, which is in the midst of Haruyuki dealing with another mysterious threat.

The Asterisk War’s 5th volume wraps up its tournament arc, I believe… or should I say, it’s first tournament arc.

Baccano! starts a new 2-volume arc taking place in 1933 and subtitled The Slash. This first volume will show us what happened to that Mexican stereotype of an assassin from the Drug & the Dominoes book.

The Devil Is a Part-Timer! 9 has far less part-time work than expected, as the devil has returned to his homeland to rescue Emi and Alas Ramus.

Goblin Slayer 4 will feature what sounds like a collection of short stories judging from the description. And probably goblins being slayed.

The Irregular at Magic High School’s 6th volume starts a new arc called the Yokohama Disturbance Arc, which I think was the final arc adapted for the anime.

Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? asks the same question again, only this time it’s Monsters. Bell says no, others think differently. Vol. 10 drops next week.

KonoSuba’s 4th volume has the inevitable Hot Springs arc.

Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers has a 3rd volume, and I must admit if the storyline is “who’s the traitor” I may bail.

The first light novel debut is The Saga of Tanya the Evil, which is another isekai. A Japanese HR manager with a cold, ruthless reputation is killed, and then reincarnated by God. Not with the best intentions, though – God dislikes his logical attitude and so puts him in a world where magic exists and there is constant warfare. Oh, and he’s in the body of a little girl.

Sword Art Online has reached a dozen volumes, and we’re still in the midst of the epic Alicization arc. We finally see Alice again, but is she brainwashed? Can Kirito and Eugeo save her?

The other light novel debut this month already has its manga coming out from Kodansha, and is the 2nd of the three ‘ridiculous’ light novels Yen licensed recently. That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime arrives next week.

We’re nearly at the end! Only 28 more titles to go! And they’re all Yen Press. We start with a 6th volume of spinoff Akame Ga KILL! ZERO.

Angels of Death is a survival manga with psychological overtimes, which comes from the oddball Comic Gene. I’m not sure what to think of it.

An 8th Aoharu x Machinegun is shipping next week.

And a 5th Bungo Stray Dogs will give us literary references galore.

Light novel adaptations galore! Starting with a 4th manga of Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody.

Dragons Rioting has a 9th volume, which is also its final volume.

If you like the idea of Goblin Slaying but hate prose, I have good news, the first volume of Goblin Slayer is for you.

I know little about Graineliers except it’s from GFantasy, it has two male leads, and it’s not BL but feels like it should be.

MJ: Did you say GFantasy? Count me in!

ASH: It’s also by Rihito Takarai (of Ten Count fame) so I’m very curious to see how this series develops. If nothing else, the artwork should be great.

SEAN: Manga based on an unlicensed light novel, part one: the 10th volume of High School DxD.

Manga based on an unlicensed light novel, part two: the 8th and final volume of How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend.

After a year’s hiatus, the Kagerou Daze manga picks up again with Vol. 7, and should be arriving more regularly from now on. For light novel fans, the story here is different from the LN (and indeed the Mekakucity Actors anime.)

A 5th Kiniro Mosaic gives you vague yuri galore.

If you liked the idea of Magical Girls dying tragically but hate prose… well, you know. Magical Girl Raising Project, now in manga form.

The 11th Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi-chan is the last, which I’m pretty sure means there are no current ongoing projects for this franchise, be it anime, manga, spinoff manga, spinoff anime, or the original novels. We should take off our hats and mourn the end of an era.

My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected gets a 7th manga volume, though I’m not sure which novel volume it’s adapting.

No Matter How Much I… sigh. WataMote gives us an 11th volume. Sorry, I’m exhausted.

Of the Red, the Light and the Ayakashi ends with its 9th volume, though I believe there is a Volume 10 with side/after stories.

ASH: Another series that I’ve been enjoying but need to catch up on!

MICHELLE: Aha! I had been thinking it was complete in 9, and then recently noticed there’s actually a tenth. Nice to have an explanation for that!

SEAN: One Week Friends is a Gangan Joker title about a cute friendship and the amnesia that threatens to tear it apart.

Re: Zero finishes its adaptation of the 2nd arc with the 4th A Week at the Mansion volume.

Rose Guns Days has a 2nd volume of its 3rd arc.

School-Live! does not come to an end with this 9th volume per se, but I think the series is on hiatus right now, so this may be the last for some time.

And a 3rd Smokin’ Parade arrives as well.

I enjoyed the first novel of So I’m a Spider, So What?, though am curious as to how a book that’s half internal dialogue will translate to manga. We’ll see with this first manga volume.

Strike the Blood’s manga has a Vol. 9, which, like the light novels, has Yukina and only Yukina on each cover.

Sword Art Online has the manga adaptation of the Calibur arc complete in one volume. It’s a great arc if you like the supporting cast, who all play a role – for the last time to date, in fact.

If you feel that yokai manga have gotten too serious lately, you should enjoy A Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School, a GFantasy title that is terminally ridiculous.

ASH: Yokai comedy, you say? Count me in!

Umineko When They Cry begins its 7th arc, Requiem of the Golden Witch. Battler is nowhere to be found. Nor is Beatrice. Instead meet Kinzo’s heir Lion Ushiromiya. Oh, did I mention this first omnibus is 826 pages?

Lastly (yes, I promise, we are at the end), there’s a 7th omnibus of Yowamushi Pedal, which should be SUPER EXCITING.

MICHELLE: Yay!

ASH: I know I’m excited!

SEAN: (falls over) So are you getting everything on this list, or just most of it?

Pick of the Week: The Calm Before the Storm

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MICHELLE: Ordinarily, I would be all about picking Chihayafuru at this juncture, but Princess Jellyfish is in a really dramatic spot right now and I think it has the slight edge. But really, you should read both.

SEAN: I’ve fallen behind on both Chihayafuru and Princess Jellyfish, so will turn to light novels for my pick. The premise for Walking My Second Path in Life sounds great, and does not appear, fingers crossed, to be an isekai. I’m a sucker for princesses who resolve to become knights, really.

KATE: I’m hoarding my change for next week.

ASH: I will definitely need all the change that I can get for next week but, like Michelle, I simply can’t resist picking up the latest volume of Princess Jellyfish!

ANNA: I have to admit, I’m behind on both Chihayafuru and Princess Jellyfish, but I’m still very excited that they are both coming out. I’m a little more attached to Chihayafuru though, so that is my pick!

A Polar Bear in Love, Vol. 1

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Don’t be fooled by the cute cover: A Polar Bear in Love is neither gag strip nor conventional rom-com about an improbable couple overcoming their differences. It’s a fitfully amusing, sometimes melancholy reflection on what it’s like to fall in love for the first time, filled with the awkward moments and misunderstandings that all dating newbies experience.

The set-up is simple: Polar Bear falls head-over-paws for Lil’ Seal. Lil’ Seal, for his part, is understandably terrified by Polar Bear’s declaration of love and suffers violent tremors and visions of his imminent demise. Author Koromo complicates this one-joke premise, however, by revealing that both Polar Bear and Lil’ Seal are male, and that neither of them are old enough to understand what it means to be in an adult relationship. Polar Bear, for example, labors under the impression that it’s normal for people to eat their loved ones. While that sounds like a cutesy, kids-believe-the-darndest-things punchline, Polar Bear’s belief is rooted in a fundamental law of the Arctic: the strong eat the weak. His own experiences with love, loss, and scavenging tug — OK, yank — on the heartstrings in an unexpected way, revealing the extent to which his carnivorous instincts are complicated by his desire for friendship.

The art, too, is deceptively minimalist. Both Polar Bear and Lil’ Seal are rendered as thick outlines against a wintery landscape, an artistic decision that allows Koromo to deform her characters for maximum humorous effect, but also underscores the fact that their white fur coats are intended to camouflage them from one another. Though the characters’ conversations are distinctively human, their physical movements are not; even when Polar Bear clasps Lil’ Seal to his chest in a tender embrace — a seemingly anthropomorphic moment — Koromo poses Polar Bear firmly on his haunches, capturing the muscular weight of his enormous hind quarters, and emphasizing the disparity between his size and Lil’ Seal’s.

But is it good, you ask? I’m not sure. There’s a brisk efficiency in Koromo’s artwork and a few delightfully absurd moments that illustrate the major gap between what Polar Bear says and what Lil’ Seal hears — an apt metaphor for what happens when two people try sorting out their feelings for one another. The story never finds a consistent rhythm or tone, however, lurching between somber reflections on arctic survival and antic scenes of Polar Bear glomping Lil’ Seal. The same is true of the characters; in some scenes, their chatter pegs them as worldly seven- or eight-year-olds, while other conversations make them seem like jejune high schoolers.

What I can say, however, is that I was genuinely surprised by A Polar Bear in Love. The manga didn’t follow any obvious formula, and wasn’t afraid to explore dark or weird emotional terrain in the service of character development. I wish I’d laughed more, or found the narrative less circular, but I won’t lie: a few scenes made me sniffle and feel protective of Polar Bear, despite his penchant for over-the-top pronouncements and bone-crushing hugs. His sincerity carried me past volume one’s weaker moments, and made me curious about what’s next for him and his harp seal pal.

A POLAR BEAR IN LOVE, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY KOROMO • TRANSLATED BY TAYLOR ENGEL • YEN PRESS • 160 pp. • RATED A, FOR ALL AGES

Pick of the Week: Neverland

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SEAN: There are a few intriguing volumes out this week, and I’d argue Wake Up, Sleeping Beauty is my clear runner-up, but there has been SO much good buzz about The Promised Neverland that I simply can’t resist making it my pick of the week. I want to see what the fuss is about.

KATE: This week, I’m all in for The Promised Neverland. After seeing so many people praising it, I decided to check it out for myself and boy howdy — it’s a nail-biter! If you need more persuading, I’ve offered a more thoughtful explanation of why you should be reading Neverland here.

MICHELLE: This wasn’t on my radar until Ash posted the link to Kate’s review, and now I’m going to be picking it like everyone else! Wake Up, Sleeping Beauty and Drifting Dragons are debuts I plan to check out, as well.

ASH: Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’m in agreement with everyone else here! While there are a few things that I’m interested in this week, my pick absolutely goes to The Promised Neverland.

ANNA: I’m not going to break this pattern! The Promised Neverland looks very interesting, that’s my pick too!

Pick of the Week: Take A Chance On ACCA

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MICHELLE: I am very happy about new volumes of All Out!! and Giant Killing, and looking forward to Kodansha Digital’s new shoujo offerings, especially Lovesick Ellie, but I absolutely MUST have ACCA. I’ve missed Natsume Ono’s work and this one has an interesting premise regarding intrigue in some fictional country. Sign me up!

KATE: I second Michelle’s recommendation: it’s been waaaaaaaaaay too long since there was a new Natsume Ono title available in English.

SEAN: Yup, I have to agree, though I’m also drawn to SP Baby. But the Pick of the Week just has to be ACCA, the failed band that Agnetha and Anni-Frid put together with Christopher Cross… I mean, the newest offering from Natsume Ono.

ASH: No question about it, like everyone else, the debut of ACCA is absolutely my pick this week! House of Five Leaves was a particularly meaningful series for me, and I’ve greatly enjoyed many of the creator’s other manga, so I’m always interested in seeing what Ono is up to.

ANNA: I agree, a new Natsume Ono series is something that appears very rarely, and is definitely something to celebrate. ACCA is my pick as well!

A First Look at The Promised Neverland

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Crack pacing, crisp artwork, and a shocking plot twist in chapter one — those are just three reasons to pick up The Promised Neverland when it arrives in comic shops on December 5th. The first volume is a masterful exercise in world-building, introducing the principal characters and the main conflict in a few economic strokes, avoiding the trap that ensnares so many fantasy authors: the info-dump introduction. Instead, the writer-artist team of Kaiu Shirai and Posuka Demizu allow the reader to figure out what’s happening by revealing important plot details as the characters uncover them, and letting the artwork establish the setting. That makes the very earliest pages of the story flow more like a rollercoaster than a Star Wars screen crawl, making every page turn feel like an urgent necessity.

The story begins at Grace Field House, an orphanage plucked from a Victorian novel: the main building is a homey Tudor villa that’s surrounded by open meadows and lush forest, perfect for a game of tag. Our first hint that something is amiss comes just six pages into the story, as Emma, the narrator, makes a mental note of all the things she’s grateful for: “a warm bed, delicious food” and “an all-white uniform.” Before we can ponder the significance of the uniform, however, Demizu inserts a panel revealing that every resident of Grace Field House has a number tattooed on her neck, a sure sign that the orphans are more prisoners than temporary wards:

A smattering of other clues — including a series of daily IQ tests and a fence encircling the property — reinforce our perception that Emma and her friends Roy and Norman are in grave danger. And while the earliest chapters occasionally bow to Shonen Jump convention with on-the-nose narration, it’s the artwork, not Emma’s voice-over, that makes each new revelation feel so sinister. Consider the panel that introduces the testing ritual:

In the first ten pages of the story, Demizu uses little to no shading to create volume or contrast, instead depicting the setting and characters through clean, graceful linework. The image above, which appears on pages 12-13, is the first time that we see such a dramatic use of tone; the students at the back of the frame look like they’re being swallowed by a black hole, while the students at the front sit under a klieg light’s glare. Demizu’s subsequent drawings are more restrained than this particular sequence, but her artwork becomes more detailed and complex than what we saw in the story’s first pages — it’s as if the setting is coming into focus for the first time, complicating our initial impressions of Grace Field House as a place of refuge.

I’m reluctant to say more about the plot, since the first chapter’s spell loses some of its potency if you know the Big Terrible Secret beforehand. (If you absolutely, positively must know what happens, Wikipedia has a decent, one-paragraph summary of the premise.) By the time Emma, Roy, and Norman realize the real purpose of their incarceration, however, the basic “rules” of the Promised Neverland universe have been firmly established, and the characters fleshed out enough for us to care whether they succeed in escaping. More importantly, the lead trio are smart and capable without seeming like miniature adults, making their likelihood of success seem uncertain, rather than preordained. That element of suspense may be difficult to sustain for 10 or 20 volumes, but hot damn — volume one is a nail-biter. Count me in for more!

Volume one debuts on December 5th in print and ebook form. Chapters 1-3 are available for free on the VIZ website; the story is currently being serialized in the English edition of Weekly Shonen Jump.

Pick of the Week: Hard To Decide

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SEAN: There’s a good number of titles I’m getting, but my mind is torn between the ridiculous manga Arakawa Under the Bridge and the ridiculous light novel So I’m a Spider, So What?, Given this is technically Manga Bookshelf and not Light Novel Bookshelf, I’ll lean on the side of the manga, so Arakawa is my pick.

KATE: So many choices… I’m partial to VIZ’s Children of the Whales, as I’m always interested in good fantasy/sci-fi, but I can’t deny the appeal of A Polar Bear in Love, which just looks cute. Cute is good.

ASH: There are so many terrific titles being released this week! Sean and Kate have already mentioned Arakawa Under the Bridge and Children of the Whales, both of which I’m looking forward to reading, so I’ll use my pick on the Neo Parasyte M shounen anthology–I’m a fan of Hitoshi Iwaaki’s original Parasyte manga and greatly enjoyed the shoujo collection Neo Parasyte F and I certainly can’t pass up the opportunity read more of Moto Hagio’s work!

MICHELLE: Since the intriguing debuts have been covered, I’ll vote for a continued favorite: Ooku. It has gone a bit beyond the point where I thought it would end, and I’m intrigued to see what other stories Yoshinaga has to tell.

ANNA: This week has a bunch of interesting manga. I have to say out of all of them I’m most interested in Children of the Whales. I’m in the mood for some good sci-fi!

MJ: This is a tough week for me. One thing you can generally count on with me is that Fumi Yoshinaga always wins. And yet… this week, I find my curiosity leaning soooo heavily towards getting a real taste of Hikaru Nakamura’s work in English that I think I’m unable to resist. It’s Arakawa Under the Bridge for me. I’m so sorry, Ooku. You know I still love you. Right??

Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga

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Part manifesto, part how-to manual, Hirohiko Araki’s Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga is as idiosyncratic as the series that made him a household name in Japan. Araki characterizes his book as both a map, guiding the aspiring artist along the “golden way” of manga, and a tool kit for developing one’s storytelling chops. “If you were to go hiking on an unfamiliar mountain, you’d bring a map, right?” he states. “If you also have with you a foundation of mountaineering skill, you could wander onto side paths and discover unexpected scenery, and if you were to come across any dangers, you could find your way around them and still reach the summit” (12-13).

Araki’s own map to the summit was Hitchcock/Truffaut. First published in 1967, the book traced Hitchcock’s journey from title boy at Paramount’s Famous Players to director of Rear Window, analyzed Hitchcock’s signature techniques, and considered Hitchcock’s contributions to the development of film. It’s not hard to imagine why Truffaut and Hitchcock’s words beguiled Araki; they provided Araki practical tips for creating memorable characters and surprising plot twists while reassuring him that a popular medium like film or comics could, in fact, be a high art form.

That fancy pedigree helps explain what differentiates Manga in Theory and Practice from hundreds of other books aimed at the manga novice. Instead of tutorials on choosing pen nibs or drawing “manga” eyes, Araki offers a chatty, first-person treatise on writing a hit series, explaining the techniques he uses to sustain to a long-form story with examples from his favorite movies, manga, and novels. Araki also uses his own manga to illustrate how his ideas work in practice, narrating scenes from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Poker Under Arms, and Cool Shock B.T. By choosing material from every stage of his career, he allows the reader to appreciate just how much his own style has evolved through years of study, practice, and editorial critique — a valuable example for any aspiring manga artist.

The book’s core chapters — “Designing Characters,” “How to Write a Story,” “Art Expresses Everything,” “What Setting Is to Manga,” and “All Elements Connect to the Theme” — outline Araki’s process for creating characters and settings, offering sound advice about which genres are best suited to serialization. Though Araki’s techniques are highly individual, the thoroughness with which he approaches world building is a useful model for less experienced writers. Araki even includes a detailed chart for capturing “sixty facts for fleshing out your characters,” from the obvious — age, gender, size — to the mundane — handedness, favorite brands.

Another recurring theme of Manga in Theory and Practice is that art is a means to an end, not an end in itself. “What your readers will see is the artwork,” Araki observes, “but behind those drawings exist the interconnected elements of character, story, setting, and theme” (41). To illustrate this point, Araki devotes several pages to explaining the difference between signification and realism, suggesting when one technique is more effective than the other. Using Jiro Taniguchi’s Solitary Gourmet (Kodoku no Gourmet) as an example, Araki notes that the hero “is drawn as an everyday salaryman, but the food is drawn with complete realism.” By drawing Goro in less detail than the food, Araki argues, Taniguchi directs the reader’s eye to the presentation, texture, and ingredients of every dish, rather than Goro’s reaction to the meal — a subtle but effective way to highlight the uniqueness of each restaurant Goro visits (45).

Araki returns to this idea later in the book, noting that the artist’s credibility lies, in part, with his ability to convince the reader that the story is taking place in a real world where characters walk, drive, text, cook, shop, and go to school. Under the provocative heading “How to Draw Guns,” Araki explains that hands-on experience with “machinery and tools” is essential to creating a realistic setting. “If you are drawing a motorcycle or bicycle, and you don’t understand how the wheels are attached or where the handlebars are placed, the result will be unsuitable for riding upon, and your setting will become incoherent,” he notes (131-32).

As pragmatic as Araki’s advice is, the book sometimes sags under the weight of Araki’s pedantic tone; it’s a little like reading a how-to book written by Polonius or your pompous Uncle Frank. In a section titled “The Difference Between Drawing Men and Women,” for example, Araki counsels the aspiring manga-ka that “nowadays, both men and women can become heroes.” And if that advice seems self-evident, what follows is even less useful. “If anything sets apart male and female characters, it’s only visual,” he elaborates. The decision to include female characters “is purely a matter of your own taste,” he continues, “as long as your characters are appealing, you could get away with a world of all men” (58-59). Small wonder so many male comic artists have no idea how to write female characters.

More amusing is a passage in which Araki castigates Francis Ford Coppola for extending the storyline of The Godfather beyond Michael Corleone’s promotion to family don. As Araki sees it, the plot developments that follow Michael’s ascent — Fredo’s betrayal, his divorce from Kay — violate Araki’s dictum that “protagonists are always rising.” “In the sequels,” Araki opines, “Michael is beset by troubles and family betrayals in a series of realistic scenes that are brilliantly rendered, but from the point of view of the audience, are unwanted and depressing” (100). Araki does praise Coppola’s commitment to this dreary vision of mob life, but it’s hard to escape the idea that Araki is dissing Coppola for the The Godfather II‘s downbeat ending.

And while I’m tickled by Araki’s assessment of The Godfather II, these odd digressions are part of Manga in Theory and Practice‘s charm. It’s one of the few how-to manuals that seems to have been written by a flesh-and-blood person working in the industry, rather than a manga illustration bot. More importantly, Manga in Theory and Practice is a valuable reference work, filling a niche that most manga manuals ignore: how to unify images and words into a dynamic story. Recommended.

VIZ Media provided a review copy.

Works Cited

Araki, Hirohito. Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga, translated by Nathan A. Collins, VIZ Media, 2017.

Astra Lost in Space, Vol. 1

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While the US manga market has plenty to offer teen readers, there’s a dearth of titles for kids who have aged out of Yokai Watch but aren’t quite ready for Bleach or Soul Eater. Astra Lost in Space, a new addition to the VIZ catalog, is a perfect transitional title for ten, eleven, and twelve-year-olds who want to read “real” manga: its slick illustrations and adventure-driven plot feel just edgy enough for this group, while the content falls safely within the boundaries of what’s appropriate for the middle school crowd.

The plot of Astra Lost in Space may remind older fans of Moto Hagio’s sci-fi classic “They Were Eleven”: nine high school students find themselves stranded aboard a spaceship whose communication system has been disabled. With only a few days’ supply of water and food on board, the group is forced to improvise a plan for making the five-month journey home. Their solution: hopscotching between planets — let’s call them “Class M” for the sake of convenience — where an abundant supply of water, plants, and animals await harvesting.

As you might guess, the planet-of-the-week formula provides artist Kenta Shinohara (Sket Dance) ample opportunity to draw menacing fauna and flora, and stage imaginative action sequences. In the volume’s best scene, for example, team captain Kanata Hoshijima leap-frogs across a field of sky-high lily pads to rescue the group’s youngest member from a flying, six-legged monster. Shinohara lavishes more attention to detail on Kanata’s long jump technique than on the turgon itself, breaking down each of Kanata’s jumps into discrete steps recognizable to any track-and-field fan: the approach, the takeoff, the hang, and the landing. In a further nod to realism, Shinohara shows us the physical toll that each jump exacts from Kanata; we can practically hear Kanata’s heaving breaths as he readies himself for the next one, an effective gambit for casting doubt on Kanata’s ability to reach Funicia.

For all the skill with which this rescue is staged, Shinohara can’t disguise the fact his characters feel like they’re the products of a Shonen Jump reader’s poll, rather than original creations. Kanata, for example, is a walking, talking checklist of shonen hero traits: he’s strong, friendly, over-confident, and burdened with a tragic backstory that gives him the will to persevere in any situation, no matter how dire. He also happens to be a decathlete, a fact that’s revealed as he rescues Funicia from the turgon’s grip. (At least that explains his javelin-throwing skills.) The other characters are less developed than Kanata, but will seem familiar to anyone who’s read three or four Shonen Jump titles: there’s Quittierre, a pretty rich girl whose tantrums conceal a good heart; Aries, a cute spaz who makes Edith Bunker look like a genius; Zack, a calm, smart boy who speaks in complete paragraphs; Charce, a boy who’s so handsome he sparkles; and a handful of less-defined characters who — according to the Third Law of Manga Plot Dynamics — will either be monster fodder or directly responsible for their classmates’ terrible predicament.

Manga novitiates, however, will be less troubled by these nods to convention, thanks to the story’s brisk pacing, smart-looking layouts, and game attempts at humor. Though there’s a mild bit of fanservice and “fantasy violence” (VIZ’s term, not mine), parents, teachers, and librarians should feel comfortable allowing middle school students to read Astra.

N.B. The first 45 chapters are currently available through the VIZ website for anyone wishing to screen the story for younger readers. Volume one of Astra is also available in a Kindle edition, and will be available in a print edition that’s slated for a December 5th release.

ASTRA LOST IN SPACE, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY KENTO SHINOHARA • TRANSLATED BY ADRIENNE BECK • VIZ • 204 pp. • RATED T for TEEN

Pick of the Week: King Me

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MICHELLE: I would pretend to moan and groan here about having to decide between Requiem of the Rose King and Chihayafuru, but although I really and sincerely do love Requiem of the Rose King, for me and my sports manga fixation, there’s really no contest. Chihayafuru forever!!!

SEAN: I like Chihayafuru as well, though I’m falling behind. My pick is Requiem of the Rose King, though, as it remains one of the most compulsively readable shoujo out there, even if Shakespeare might be spinning in his grave a bit.

KATE: This week, I only have eyes for one title: volume three of Delicious in Dungeon, one of 2017’s best new manga. It’s funny, breezy, and surprisingly well plotted, despite its monster-of-the-week formula. As I noted in my review of volume one, Dungeon reads like a mash-up of a workplace sitcom and a cooking show (albeit one with seriously unappetizing recipes).

ASH: There are so many things that I’m interested in this week, it’s difficult for me to choose just one! There’s Frau Faust and Requiem of the Rose King for classically-inspired tales with interesting twists and Delicious in Dungeon with its brilliant mix of food and fantasy. For official picks I often lean towards debuts, though, and I’m very glad that A Strange and Mystifying Story was rescued–I’m curious to see if I like the series as well as I did the first time it was translated.

ANNA: There’s so much great manga coming out this week! For me though, any time Requiem of the Rose King comes out, that’s an automatic pick for me. This unique adaptation of Richard the III is always mesmerizing.

MJ: I’ve been pretty swamped this week, and haven’t had a chance to really look things over, but did somebody say Requiem of the Rose King? You can always count me in for that.