Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

A First Look at Shojo FIGHT!

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We’re in the middle of a sports-manga renaissance in the US, with publishers offering an unprecedented range of titles from Kurokuro’s Basketball and Haikyu!! to Yowamushi Pedal and Welcome to the Ballroom. Leading the pack is Kodansha Comics, which is making an astonishing range of titles available through their digital-only and digital-first initiatives. And astonishing it is: alongside obvious choices like the baseball-centric Ace of the Diamond, you’ll also find soccer manga (Days, Giant Killing, Sayanora, Football), rugby manga (All Out!!), mixed-martial arts manga (All-Rounder Meguru), and card game manga (Chihayafuru). Kodansha’s latest acquisition is Shojo FIGHT!, a volleyball series that reads like Dynasty with knee pads.

I mean that as a compliment.

The first chapter briskly introduces us to the three principle members of the Hakuumzan Private Academy Middle School volleyball team: Neri, a talented but difficult personality who has trouble playing well with others (literally and figuratively); Koyuki, a telegenic setter who moonlights on the Junior National team; and Chiyo, a jealous teammate who slots into the Joan Collins role of Queen Bitch. As we learn in the opening pages, Neri’s temper frequently relegates her to the bench, even though her teammates firmly believe that she’s in a league of her own as both a setter and a hitter — a point that Chiyo lords over the emotionally vulnerable Koyuki. Koyuki, for her part, feels isolated from her teammates who say nice things to her face but trash her playing when she’s not around. Though Chiyo bluntly dismisses Neri as “a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Koyuki makes a concerted effort to befriend Neri, whom she views as a peer on the court.

The dynamic between these three players would be enough for an entire series, but Yoko Nihonbashi surrounds them with a boisterous cast of supporting characters who run the gamut from Odagiri, a shy Neri fangirl, to the Shikisama brothers, two gifted volleyball players who are, of course, handsome, sharp-witted, and fiercely loyal to their childhood friend… well, I’ll let you figure out that particular triangle on your own, though it’s not hard to guess who she is. While these figures are sketched more hastily than the principle trio, Nihonbashi offers tantalizing clues about how they will figure into the conflict between Neri and her teammates.

What will make or break this series for most readers is the art. As numerous folks have observed, Nihonbashi’s thick lines, wide-eyed characters, and computer-generated fills more closely conform to Americans’ perception of what OEL manga looks like — think Peach Fuzz or Van Von Hunter — than a licensed seinen or shojo title. I think that’s a valid observation, though it’s worth noting that Nihonbashi is a Japanese artist writing for Evening magazine, not a Tokyopop Rising Star of Manga. The boldness of Nihonbashi’s linework, and her dense but well structured layouts, aren’t the least bit amateurish or unpolished. If anything, they demonstrate a good understanding of game mechanics and a flair for drawing expressive, animated faces that telegraph the characters’ emotional states; the malicious twinkle in Chiyo’s eye speaks more loudly than her poisonous words — and that’s saying something.

My suggestion: try before you buy! The first 50 pages of Shojo FIGHT! can be viewed for free at the Kodansha Comics website. There’s enough drama packed into that opening chapter to hook any soap opera fan or sports enthusiast, and if the sudsy plotting isn’t enough to pique your interest, Neri will be: she’s prickly and complicated but appealing, not least because she seems like a real teenage athlete struggling to reconcile her desire to dominate the court with her desire to be part of the team.

The entire first volume goes on sale today (September 26th) via Amazon, B&N, ComiXology, and other digital book platforms.

Pick of the Week: Girl Fight Tonight!

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SEAN: Until a couple of days ago, this was an easy pick, as Frau Faust was greatly enjoyable. But a rival appears, and I’m afraid that it’s won me over… or should, I haven’t read it yet. Yes, my pick of the week is Shojo Fight!, which I’ve wanted licensed here for a while now. It’s digital only, but we can’t have everything. Also, potential Haikyu!! crossover fics?

KATE: I second Sean’s pick: more volleyball manga is a good thing, especially since Crimson Hero is out of print. I’m also curious about All Out!!, another digital-only sports title from Kodansha. I can’t claim to be a rugby fan, but my younger sister played on the Stanford women’s team and has fond memories of — and a few scars from — the experience. So as an act of sisterly loyalty, I’m also casting a vote for All-Out!!.

MICHELLE: Yep, it’s gotta be Shojo Fight! for me, too, though I am definitely looking forward to All-Out!! as well.

ANNA: Shojo Fight! is also my pick. Have we had an all sports manga pick of the week recently? It certainly sounds like an excuse to celebrate!

ASH: Well, were I a digital reader, I’m sure I would be joining you all in picking Shojo Fight!. Alas, I am still devoted to my print volumes. Happily, though this week is relatively light on physical releases, there is one manga in particular that has caught my eye–the debut of Frau Faust.

After Hours and My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness

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After Hours and My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness epitomize a small but growing trend in yuri manga licensing: both focus on women in their twenties exploring their sexuality, rather than depicting middle- or high-school aged girls crushing on each other.

After Hours is the more upbeat of the two, a sympathetic portrait of twenty-three-year-old Emi, a recent college graduate who’s just quit her job and is struggling to figure out what comes next. A chance encounter with Kei, a twenty-nine-year-old deejay, is a turning point in Emi’s young adult life: not only is she drawn to Kei’s confidence, she’s also intrigued by Kei’s passion for spinning records. As their connection deepens, Emi takes a more active role in supporting Kei’s career, joining Kei’s circle of friends and trying her hand at “veejaying,” selecting videos to complement Kei’s set lists.

One of the most striking aspects of After Hours is Yuhta Nishio’s sensitive depiction of Emi and Kei’s sexual encounters. He uses a handful of discrete signifiers — a pile of clothing on the floor, a tender embrace, a flirtatious post-coital chat — rather than explicit or provocative imagery. That’s a wise choice, I think, as it allows Nishio to portray Emi and Kei as grown women with healthy sexual urges without reducing them to sexualized objects. Nishio’s restrained approach also emphasizes the aspects of Emi and Kei’s bodily intimacy that foster a mutual sense of trust, familiarity, and affection — a dimension of sexual experience that’s often missing from straight romance manga.

Though the first chapters are largely uneventful, future volumes promise dramatic complications. Emi has yet to disclose her relationship to her friends or her not-quite-ex-boyfriend, with whom she’s still sharing an apartment. More interestingly, Emi hasn’t really thought about what it means to be in a relationship with another woman; she’s initially surprised by her attraction to Kei, but resists labeling those feelings as lesbian, bisexual, or queer, choosing instead to savor the sense of purpose and joy that being with Kei brings to her life. The ease with which Emi embraces her new love is a refreshing development, a quiet rebuttal of the idea that sexual orientation is absolute or easily defined.

By contrast, Nagata Kabi’s My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is a more complex story, a confessional comic documenting the author’s sexual awakening in her late twenties. Nagata narrates her odyssey with candor, acknowledging the degree to which mental illness dictated her adult life. She describes the bodily ravages of disordered eating — she vacillated between anoxeria and bulimia — and the emotional toll of disordered thinking, noting the degree to which both depression and body dysmorphia prevented her from holding down a job, maintaining friendships, or thinking about herself as a sexual person. She also ruminates on her chilly relationship with her parents, and her profound sense of shame in disappointing them by not becoming a “real” adult with a conventional office job.

After hitting rock bottom, Nagata realizes the degree to which she’s suppressed her sexuality. In an effort to reassert control over her life, Nagata decides to hire a female escort for her first sexual experience. Nagata documents this encounter in an almost clinical fashion, contrasting her feverish anticipation with her stiff, detached response to being touched. For all of her progress towards mental health and self-acceptance, she realizes that she cannot yet surrender to the bodily sensations of desire — a tension that remains unresolved at the end of her narrative, even though Nagata’s final panels suggest her sense of relief and pride for taking such a bold step.

That Nagata’s journey is more inspiring than depressing is a testament to her writing skills (and, I might add, Jocelyne Allen’s artfully wry translation). Though Nagata never shies away from describing uncomfortable thoughts or self-destructive behavior, she finds moments of grace and humor in even the darkest situations, especially as she begins to contemplate what it means to be a sexual person. In three sharp, economical panels, for example, she explores her profound discomfort with binary gender labels, even as she begins to recognize her sexual attraction to women:

It feels churlish to criticize such a personal work, and yet I found myself wishing that Nagata’s art felt more essential to the story she was telling. Writing for The Comics Journal, critic Katie Skelly voiced similar concerns, arguing that Nagata’s tendency to mix big blocks of text with cute drawings keeps the reader at arm’s length when Nagata discloses intimate, sometimes disturbing, details of her eating disorders and self-mutilation. “Nagata can’t find a suitable bridge to mend the gap between the story of her experience and aesthetic,” Skelly notes. “[H]er style can read as generic and her tone never quite finds its mark.” I admit to feeling the same way about Nagata’s work: I admired her raw honesty, but felt that My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness could have been a book, a movie, or a Moth Radio Hour segment just as easily as a comic; nothing about the way Nagata related her experiences felt like it was uniquely suited to manga, as her drawings were more illustrative of what she felt than genuinely revelatory about why she felt such profound self-loathing.

For all the things that go unsaid in My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness, however, there’s much wisdom in Nagata’s story, especially for people struggling with what it means to be healthy, whole, and sexual. Nagata’s recovery is a testament to the human capacity for resilience, and her willingness to share her most vulnerable moments with strangers an act of genuine courage. Here’s hoping that she continues to document her journey of self-discovery.

VIZ Media provided a complimentary review copy of After Hours.

AFTER HOURS • STORY AND ART BY YUHTA NISHIO • TRANSLATION BY ABBY LEHRKE • 160 pp. • RATED TEEN+ (for older teens)

MY LESBIAN EXPERIENCE WITH LONELINESS • STORY AND ART BY NAGATA KABI • TRANSLATED BY JOCELYNE ALLEN • SEVEN SEAS • 152 pp. • RATED OT (for older teens)

Elegant Yokai Apartment Life, Vol. 1

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Elegant Yokai Apartment Life suffers from multiple personality disorder, lurching awkwardly from one situation to the next without comfortably settling into one storytelling mode long enough for the reader to decide if it’s a sitcom, a soap opera, or a horror show.

In fairness to creators Hinowa Kouzuki and Waka Miyama, few stories purely embody a single genre; the labels that the publishing and entertainment industries have coined — rom-com, dramedy — give ample proof that hybridization is a common strategy for enlivening familar plots. For such hybrid forms to work, however, the tonal shifts must be intrinsic to the story, arising naturally from the interactions between the characters and their environment. Elegant Yokai‘s narrative swerves, however, feel more like a desperate attempt to appeal to as many different constituencies as possible: there’s fanservice for guys (a female ghost who wears only panties and a well-placed towel) and girls (a hot onmyoji with a ponytail and a silver fox with an eye patch), yokai drawn from folklore and urban myth, a potential love interest for the hero, a raft of comic-relief characters who get brief turns in the spotlight, a subplot borrowed from a 1983 Afterschool Special, and tragic backstories for several characters just in case the idea of a “ghostly boarding house” doesn’t tickle your funny bone.

The most frustrating part of this narrative abundance is that so much of it feels… extra. Any one of these elements could be excised from the story without fundamentally changing the premise, making room for more character development. That point is crucial: Elegant Yokai‘s lead is less a person than a reader surrogate, walking from one situation to another in a state of mild befuddlement about his supernatural neighbors. Author Hinowa Kouzuki has saddled Inaba with motivations that explain how he ended up rooming with yokai, but hasn’t actually given him any discernible personality traits. Kouzuki and Miyama’s few attempts to flesh out Inaba’s character are clumsy and, frankly, illogical: what well-adjusted person marks his middle school graduation by fighting his BFF in an abandoned lot because he’s “always wanted to do that”? (Shouldn’t Inaba quote one of the rules of Fight Club or something?)

The artwork suffers from a similarly overdetermined quality. The human characters are less drawn than assembled from bits and pieces of other artists’ work — a dash of CLAMP here, a bit of Yuu Watase there — while the yokai have been shamelessly copied from Rumiko Takahashi and Hayao Miyazaki’s oeuvre. Making deliberate allusions to other artists’ work is, of course, a time-honored tradition, but here, these nods feel less like tribute and more like theft; readers tempted to compare Miyama’s art with Miyazaki’s are bound to find hers a poor substitute.

It’s only in the final chapter of volume one that we get a glimpse of what Elegant Yokai might have been. The story trains the spotlight on Inaba’s fellow apartment dwellers Kuga and Shiro, a boy and his dog who were murdered by Kuga’s mother. Once a month, Kuga’s mother — also a ghost — shows up at the apartment building to reclaim her son. Over time, however, her human form has deteriorated and memories have faded, reducing her to a pitiful demonic state, more scribble monster than angry wraith. The frankness with which Kouzuki and Miyama depict her crime prevents these scenes from descending into bathos; these moments are the only ones that elicit an authentic emotional response from the reader, not least because Kuga and Shiro’s predicament has a demonstrable effect on the other characters. Too bad the rest of volume one is such a frantic, disjointed mess.

ELEGANT YOKAI APARTMENT LIFE, VOL. 1 • STORY BY HINOWA KOUZUKI, ART BY WAKA MIYAMA • TRANSLATED BY ADAM HIRSCH • 206 pp. • RATED T (13+)

Pick of the Week: Flower Girls

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KATE: This week’s manga haul has something for everyone: new installments of digital-only releases like Tokyo Tarareba Girls, new volumes of perennial favorites like Nichijou and Master Keaton, and a handful of debuts like Kiss Me at the Stroke of Midnight and Sweet Blue Flowers. And while I’m intrigued by Sweet Blue Flowers, my vote goes to volume nine of A Bride’s Story, Kaoru Mori’s gorgeously illustrated chronicle of life on the Silk Road. What say the rest of the MB gang?

MICHELLE: Despite the handful of Seven Seas titles that I’m genuinely looking forward to, I really can only choose Sweet Blue Flowers. I’ve been looking forced to reading this series in English for years! (I even bought the Japanese volumes for a while!) Thanks, VIZ!

SEAN: It’s light novel week, so you know I want to say Baccano!. And there’s a bunch of other titles I want in this monster week. But as with Michelle, my choice goes to Sweet Blue Flowers finally getting the treatment it deserves. Can’t wait.

ASH: Like Kate, I’m certainly looking forward to the next installment of A Bride’s Story, and there are plenty of other manga being released this week that I’ll definitely be picking up (such as Descending Stories), but I’ll be joining Michelle and Sean in choosing Sweet Blue Flowers as my official pick. Shimura’s Wandering Son was an incredibly important series for me personally, so I am thrilled that more of her work is be released in print.

ANNA: There are quite a few great series coming out this this week! I’m going to have to go with the last volume of Master Keaton. Urasawa is always at the top of his game, and I’m going to miss all the insurance investigation shenanigans.

MJ: I find myself echoing what others have said so far regarding Takako Shimura’s Sweet Blue Flowers. A real release of this series has been a long time coming, and I’m thrilled to see it finally hitting the shelves. I can’t wait to read it.

Pick of the Week: Butlers, Cosplayers, and Sunspots

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SEAN: It’s a light week with no first volumes. A few books I’m looking forward to, but I’ll be Don Quixote again and give my pick to Hayate the Combat Butler. All my other lost causes have either ended or been dropped, but Hayate is still there, trickling out.

KATE: Whoa… I reviewed the first volume of Hayate back in 2006, when I was writing for PopCultureShock. I remember enjoying it, reading a few more volumes, and then… well, I think I lost track of it. Sean’s comments, however, reminded me that VIZ has been good about continuing series that never quite found the audience they deserved. (See Kaze Hikaru.) So my vote goes to Hayate the Combat Butler as well.

MICHELLE: My pick this week goes to the final volume of Complex Age. It’s been riveting and it’s been truly upsetting, but my hope is that it’ll end on an empowering note, too. I’m looking forward to it!

ASH: I’ve never actually read any of Hayate the Combat Butler (although perhaps I should). However, I have read the first part of Complex Age and found it to be surprisingly relatable and personally meaningful. I’m a few volumes behind in reading the series, but I join Michelle in choosing the final installment as my pick this week. I’m very glad that Kodansha Comics brought the series to my attention.

ANNA: It is such a light week! Of the titles that are coming out, Complex Age is the series that I’m most likely to finish, although like Ash I need to catch up. That’s my pick as well.

MJ: I’m still in catch-up mode from the summer when I was directing an opera, and since there’s nothing on this week’s pack that really grabs me, I’m going to dig back into the stuff I missed and finally take a look at One Peace Books’ I Hear the Sunspot. It sounds like exactly my kind of BL (if it is, in fact, BL). So let the catching up begin!

The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, Vols. 1-2

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Can someone who’s never played a Legend of Zelda video game still enjoy the manga adaptations? That’s the question I set out to answer by reading the first two volumes of the Twilight Princess saga.

The short answer to the question is a qualified yes — if by “enjoy” you mean, “get a handle on what’s happening.” Akira Himekawa, a pseudonym for the two-woman team of A. Honda and S. Nagano, pack a considerable amount of exposition into the first two chapters, making it easy for the uninitiated to grasp the premise. Honda and Nagano also use these introductory pages to introduce us to the residents of Ordon Village — the hero’s home — treating us to idyllic scenes of farmers tending their crops, shepherds minding their flocks, and barefoot children cavorting. Though these tableaux are as cornpone as anything John Ford ever committed to screen, they’re rendered in a crisp, readable style that helps the reader understand what’s at stake if Link fails in his quest to restore the balance between light and darkness.

But if you equate “enjoyment” with “feeling a spark of pleasure or surprise while reading,” then the answer to my initial question is a resounding no. There’s a labored quality to the storytelling that prevents Twilight Princess from coming alive on the page; Honda and Nagano try too hard to nail down every narrative detail, producing a story that often reads more like an overly scripted PowerPoint presentation on Twilight Princess than an organic work of fiction. In the first volume, for example, we’re introduced to the obviously pregnant wife of an important supporting character. Just a few pages later, however, another villager helpfully mentions that Uli’s wife is… pregnant. A similar round of no-shit statements accompany Link’s volume two transformation into a wolf, a development that prompts Link — and other characters — to repeatedly observe that he’s no longer human; you could play a decent drinking game by taking a swig of whiskey whenever someone registered surprise at Link’s lupine form. At least he looks cool.

The plot developments are equally obvious. As soon as Honda and Nagano introduced a tremulous teenage girl and her snot-faced little brother, for example, I knew it was only a matter of 30-40 pages before they’d be snatched, giving Link a compelling reason to enter the Twilight Realm. This predictable turn of events wouldn’t be frustrating if we cared about Ilia and Colin’s fate, but they’re such generic characters that they never transcend their function as plot devices. Even the combat feels more like a sprinkling of “adult spice” than a real attempt to tell a darker or more complex story; Twilight Princess is so devoid of ambiguity or suspense that even the most intense, violent sequences seem largely inconsequential.

The blandness of the manga’s execution prompts me to ask a second question: who is Twilight Princess for? Book sales indicate that there’s a large audience of Zelda fanatics who are enjoying this series, so my guess is that the manga appeals to players’ nostalgia for the original games. For the rest of us, however, Twilight Princess is neither interesting nor imaginative enough to compete with One Piece, Naruto, Fairy Tail, or Fullmetal Alchemist on its own terms, nor does it offer any clues why the Zelda games have been a global, thirty-year phenomenon that’s captivated two generations of gamers.

VIZ provided a review copy of volume two.

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: TWILIGHT PRINCESS, VOLS. 1-2 • BY AKIRA HIMEKAWA • TRANSLATED BY JOHN WERRY • RATED T, FOR TEEN

Pick of the Week: One Last Love Story

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MICHELLE: Last time I had the option to pick Skip Beat!, I said that it’d likely always be my pick when it comes out, due to its biannual release schedule. Well, not this time. As much as I deeply love it, this is my final chance to choose My Love Story!!, so I’m gonna do it. It’s brain balm of the best kind—warm and sweet but never sappy or boring. I will miss it very much.

SEAN: So much to love this week, and I want to pick Queen’s Quality, as I do love me some Motomi, but I agree with Michelle: there’s no question that the final volume of My Love Story!! is going to be my pick. Some have accused it of being too sweet and sappy, and they’re absolutely correct, but that’s what I want from this series. Mainline the sugar into my veins, please!

KATE: I’m torn between the final volume of My Love Story!! and the latest installment of One-Punch Man, which deserves to be a Naruto-sized hit in America.

ANNA: This is a great week for manga for me. Like everyone else, I feel compelled to pick the final volume of My Love Story!!, it is such a uniquely quirky series that is heartwarming without being cloying.

ASH: I’m in agreement with everyone else here. While there are quite a few things that I have my eyes on this week–Captain Harlock, Haikyu!!, Sweetness & Lightning–it’s My Love Story!! that has my heart.

That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime, Vol. 1

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I’m a sucker for a great title, a tendency that’s yielded a bumper crop of disappointments through the years; I still haven’t purged the memory of a Screaming Broccoli album I purchased in 1988, or the 90 minutes I spent watching So I Married an Axe Murderer. I’m pleased to report That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime proved a better gamble than punk-rock vegetables, offering enough solid jokes and weird plot developments to sustain this reader’s interest. What surprised me the most about Reincarnated, however, wasn’t the premise — that’s clearly advertised in the title — nor the hero’s appearance — again, see title — but the story’s fundamentally optimistic message: there are always second chances in life.

The first chapter introduces us to Mikami, a 37-year-old virgin trapped in a lousy job. On a fateful afternoon, he impulsively saves a junior colleague from a knife-wielding attacker, an act of heroism that costs Mikami his life — as a human being, at least — and leads to his reincarnation in a fantasy realm that looks remarkably like World of Warcraft, Game of Thrones, and a hundred MMORPGs. Guided by an unseen dungeon master, Mikami reinvents himself as Rimuru, a slime monster who absorbs his enemies’ powers by eating them — a trick that quickly enables Rimuru to do remarkable things from healing the wounded to spinning thread.

What’s more remarkable about Rimuru is that he immediately puts his powers to work — for other people. (Well, monsters, really.) In chapter two, for example, he teaches a community of goblins how to defend themselves against a numerically superior opponent, helping them build sophisticated fortifications that repel a snarling pack of direwolves. (Paging George R.R. Martin!) Rimuru also bestows names on each member of the tribe, an act that transforms the once small and homely goblins into strapping specimens. That would be a good joke in and of itself, but it lands with greater impact because Rimuru’s act of generosity is consistent with what we saw of his human self, both in the prologue and in a brief flashback to his interactions with colleagues.

And speaking of jokes, Stephen Paul’s crisp translation plays an instrumental role in bridging the gap between the original novels and their manga adaptation by creating a distinctive, sardonic voice for Rimuru that situates him somewhere between audience surrogate and hero. The tone of Rimuru’s monologues captures the mixture of enthusiasm, wonder, and bewilderment with which he approaches new situations, great and small. After bestowing the names Gobta, Gobchi, Gobstu, Gobte, and Gobto on a family of goblins, for example, Rimuru heads off criticism from the reader by declaring, “I didn’t claim I was some kind of naming virtuoso!”, while a fortune teller’s romantic predictions prompt him to ask the same questions we’re thinking: “Do slimes even have genders? How do they multiply? Cell division?”

What Paul’s translation can’t do is goose the pacing. Manga-kaTaiki Kawakami makes a game effort to handle the first volume’s exposition as efficiently as possible, which results in many static panels of Rimuru learning the rules of play from the unseen dungeon master. Though the dialogue is punchy, the story unfolds in fits and starts, seesawing between short, intense bursts of action and leisurely scenes of Rimuru chatting with other characters, pondering one of his new-found abilities, or describing something that happened off camera. These info-dump passages are all the more tedious because Rimuru lacks the limbs, eyes, or mouth to adequately register surprise or awe at what he learns; what features he has — two pencil-line eyebrows — are frozen in a perma-scowl.

The other disappointing element of the manga adaptation is the paucity of female characters in volume one, a problem that series creator Fuse cheerfully acknowledges. “It’s quite possible not to have a heroine in a traditional sense,” he opines in the manga’s epilogue, “but not having any female characters whatsoever is a problem. There’s no beauty in the manga.” Kawakami’s strategy for addressing this issue is not to introduce an important character a little sooner than she appeared in the novels, or expand one of the minor female characters into a more essential figure, but to pile on the fan service by turning any gathering of female characters into a harem scene; I’m still scrubbing my eyeballs after reading a chapter in which an attractive elfling uses Rimuru as a boob shelf. (Worse still: someone cracks wise about E.I.L.F.s, a quip that wouldn’t have been funny in 2003, let alone 2017.)

For all its flaws, however, Reincarnated has its heart in the right place, using Rimuru’s adventures to demonstrate that it’s possible to make the most of any situation, no matter how improbable or unpromising it may seem at the outset. Better still, Reincarnated imparts its moral with tongue firmly in cheek, never lapsing into sappy earnestness about doing one’s best, or sacrificing yourself for the greater good. Of course, we haven’t seen what will happen if and when Rimuru stumbles into a second chance at romance, though volume one offers a few tantalizing clues about a future love interest. Here’s hoping that Rimuru begins his second — and potentially more terrifying — journey of romantic self-discovery without losing his wit or his wits.

THAT TIME I GOT REINCARNATED AS A SLIME, VOL. 1 • CREATED BY FUSE • MANGA BY TAIKI KAWAKAMI • CHARACTER DESIGNS BY MITZ VAH • TRANSLATED BY STEPHEN PAUL • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED: TEEN (13+) • 240 pp.

Pick of the Week: Scrounging for Choices

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SEAN: Despite the large number of manga available this week, my pick is the latest book in the Monogatari Series, the 2nd Nisemonogatari. I enjoy this series despite its fanservice, but this one may be challenging even with that. Toothbrushes out!

MICHELLE: As Sean predicted, the new releases that appeal to me the most are Kodansha’s digital sports manga. Days is shounen fun, but Giant Killing offers a seinen slant that makes it unique and my pick for this week.

KATE: I’m backing Michelle’s play by picking Giant Killing and Days, too. I’d love to see even more sports manga available in English, and supporting Kodansha’s digital publishing efforts seems like the best way to encourage them to be bolder in their licensing choices. We need manga about golfing, running, synchronized swimming, mountain biking, kayaking, sailing, speed skating, agility training, sled dog racing… the possibilities are endless!

MICHELLE: I’m still holding out hope for Mitsuru Adachi’s Rough, too. (Though not from Kodansha, obviously.)

ASH: Were I a digital reader this would be a great week of releases for me with new volumes of Giant Killing, Saki, and Space Brothers coming out. Limiting myself to print releases though there’s not much that I’m super-excited about, but I am very curious about the debut of Kigurumi Guardians.

ANNA: There’s not a ton out there that I’m reading this week, although I’m very happy that more sports manga is being released. I’m picking Altair: A Record of Battles volume 3, because that’s what I’m most likely to read… someday!

Pick of the Week: Food, Glorious Food!

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MICHELLE: It is happy cruelty that this week I am forced to choose between Chihayafuru and What Did You Eat Yesterday?, both of which I love intensely. I think we will probably see another volume of Chihayafuru before volume thirteen of WDYEY, as it won’t even come out in Japan until next month, so that gives Yoshinaga the slight edge this time. But really, get them both.

SEAN: My pick this week is the final volume of Blood Lad, which I’ve definitely enjoyed more than I expected to. It feels like it’s just about the right time to end it, too. Also, Fuyumi cover!

ANNA: Chihayafuru is an easy pick for me. I am so happy this series is being translated!

KATE: There’s only one manga on my plate this week: volume two of Delicious in Dungeon. It reads like an episode of Martha Stewart Living crossed with a MMPORG, mixing action scenes with tips on how to get the most of giant scorpion meat. (Who knew it was good for tempura?)

MICHELLE: Oh, I didn’t even mention that or Yowamushi Pedal! So much great stuff this week.

ASH: There really are so many great manga being released this week, making it extremely difficult to choose just one! So, I’ll cheat a little and pick a subgenre instead–give me all the food manga you’ve got! Both What Did You Eat Yesterday? and Delicious in Dungeon are very high on my list and I’m definitely looking forward to sinking my teeth into them. (Not literally, of course.)

Pick of the Week: Heroes and Villains

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KATE:: For most readers, this week’s pick is a no-brainer: it’s the final volume of Tokyo Ghoul, which reaches its gory climax with volume fourteen. I never got on the Tokyo Ghoul train myself, so I’m more inclined to pick the latest installment of I Am a Hero, an even gorier series that manages to breathe fresh life into an undead concept by putting an unreliable narrator in the center of the action. (For the curious, I reviewed volume one.)

SEAN: Well, I mean, Tokyo Ghoul: re starts in October, so… in any case, I’m going to pick the 5th and final volume of Akuma no Riddle, a yuri manga that takes place at a school but is not like the 80 other yuri manga being released that take place at schools. I enjoyed this more than I expected, and I think it will benefit from a mass reread.

MICHELLE: There isn’t a whole lot that appeals to me this week, I’m afraid. So, even though I haven’t started the series yet, I’ll pick the fifth volume of All-Rounder Meguro to show support for Kodansha’s digital sports manga offerings.

ASH: Although I haven’t actually played very much of any of the games in the franchise, the release that I’m probably most curious about this week is the Assassin’s Creed manga adaptation, largely because I’ve greatly enjoyed Oiwa’s past adaptations.

ANNA: There isn’t a whole lot out there that is appealing to me this week either, but I’m probably going to check out Cosplay Animal in the hopes that it is fun and trashy, so that’s my pick.

Melody of Iron

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Osamu Teuka hit rock bottom in 1973. Mushi Production, the animation studio he’d launched to great fanfare in 1961, had just declared bankruptcy. Although Tezuka had parted ways with Mushi in 1968, he was still linked to his old company in the public imagination — Mushi was, after all, the studio that had introduced Tetsuwan Atom to television viewers around the globe, and made Kimba the White Lion a household figure in Japan. Tezuka also faced a creative crisis: his work was out of step with emerging trends in what he called “young adult manga,” a point he plaintively addressed in the afterword to the 1974 short story collection Melody of Iron:

The media was whispering that I’d hit my wall… With a broken heart, but also rebellious determination, I blindly tackled magazine jobs …These are examples of my Young Adult Manga write during times when I was mentally hungry. There were many more. Ranging from pieces that were too dark and hopeless, to really harsh pieces that, in today’s day and age, would immediately receive protest from all sorts of organizations. All of my pieces then had really emotionless themes and I don’t remember enjoying writing most of them.

Manga publishers agreed with Tezuka’s glum self-assessment. In 1973, Weekly Shonen Champion offered Tezuka an opportunity to write a limited five-week series with the implicit assumption that Tezuka was publishing his final work. That series turned out to be the opening salvo in a new stage of Tezuka’s career, however, as Black Jack became one of Tezuka’s best-known, best-loved titles, a mixture of bold, expressive cartooning, crazy plot lines, and gut-punch endings all held together by one of the most memorable characters Tezuka ever created.

Not all of Tezuka’s work from the 1970s walks this melodramatic tightrope as effectively as Black Jack, a point underscored by Melody of Iron. The title story, for example, is a three-act mish-mash of gangster movie cliches and seventies pseudo-science. In the first act, a young man runs afoul of the mafia, ratting out one their assassins in court; as punishment, the Albanis cut off his arms and leave him to die. In the second act, Dan holes up in a mad scientist’s laboratory where he learns to use a set of psychokinetic prosthetic arms. And in the final act, Dan’s ability to harness PK proves a mixed blessing when the arms exact revenge against the Albanis… without him.

The finale exemplifies what’s good and bad about Tezuka’s crank-it-to-eleven approach. On the one hand, Tezuka has the cartooning chops to make the arms look sufficiently animated, a necessary condition for selling us on his Stephen King-meets-Mario Puzo concept. On the other hand, Tezuka’s own distinctive style works against the potential horror of the killer limbs; the arms aren’t menacing enough to be a convincing embodiment of Dan’s fierce anger, looking more like the Tin Man’s costume than instruments of death. The arms’ efficacy is further neutered by the staging of their grand murder spree, a string of over-the-top deaths that re-enact Dan’s initial humiliation in the most baldly literal fashion: look, Ma, no arms!

The story also stumbles in its efforts to depict American racial dynamics. Shortly after Dan’s bloody encounter with the Albani’s goons, for example, a mob of African American teenagers harasses Dan, pelting him with stones and mocking him for his missing arms. The way these characters are rendered — with thick lips and maliciously gleeful expressions — creates a profoundly uncomfortable moment for the modern Western reader, resurrecting the visual iconography of minstrel shows to dehumanize these unnamed teens. Dan is rescued by Birdie, a black Vietnam vet who counsels Dan to abandon his murderous plans. Birdie looks more recognizably human than the rock-throwing teens, but he’s more a construct than a character, a noble voice of reason whose primary purpose is to advance the plot by introducing Dan to the mad Dr. Macintosh.

The third strike against “Melody” — and, by extension, the entire anthology — is that the edgier content feels like a self-conscious effort to dress up the material in adult themes, rather than a vehicle for exploring the darker corners of the human psyche. This problem is most pronounced in “Revolution,” a short story about Yasue, a housewife who wakes up from a coma convinced that she’s a young radical named Minako Hotta. In an effort to prove to her husband that she is, in fact, Minako, Yasue describes Minako’s sexual encounters with a wounded revolutionary, explaining how Minako’s tender ministrations brought him back from death’s door. We’re clearly supposed to sympathize with Yasue’s husband — he’s disgusted by Yasue’s “memory” — but his boorish, violent behavior in previous scenes makes it hard for the reader to sympathize with his predicament. Worse still, Minako’s sacrifices are presented as a sign of her dedication to the cause, a notion so risible it seems more like a lame joke from Woody Allen’s Bananas than a credible character motivation.

As with Tezuka’s other work from the period, the principal characters in Melody of Iron are generically attractive types whose personalities emerge primarily through what they say, while the supporting cast members are vividly drawn caricatures whose personalities are established through how they look. Such visual shortcuts are a standard manga technique, of course, but in Tezuka’s hands these aesthetic decisions are effective since they’re rendered with flair and specificity; you know exactly what kind of person Dr. Macintosh is from the shape of his nose, the tousle of his hair, and the hunch of his shoulders. Tezuka also scatters a few Easter eggs through the collection, including a sequence modeled on The Godfather‘s iconic wedding scene, and a panel depicting Broadway’s signature jumble of lights and signs; look closely and you’ll see the names of several Tezuka titles gracing the marquees.

For all the flashes of imagination in Melody of Iron, however, Tezuka was onto something when he characterized his “young adult” stories as “less approachable” than his other work from the early 1970s. Even the most over-the-top scenes feel a little labored and dour, lacking the visual exuberance or emotional oomph that makes “Dingoes” and “Teratoid Cystoma” such memorable entries in the Black Jack canon. Readers looking for an introduction to Tezuka’s late work may find Melody of Iron a good point of entry, but anyone with dog-eared copies of Black Jack or Ode to Kirihito may be underwhelmed by this more workmanlike collection.

THE MELODY OF IRON • BY OSAMU TEZUKA • TRANSLATED BY ADAM SECORD • DIGITAL MANGA, INC. • RATED YOUNG ADULT (16+) FOR VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT • 214 pp.

Pick of the Week: Across the Spectrum

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SEAN: The title I find most intriguing this week is Nirvana, which is a reincarnated in another world title with a female lead (a rarity), and apparently borrows from both Hindu and Buddhist mythology. I’m in!

KATE: Hmmmm… If I were picking a manga on the strength of the title alone, Am I in Love Or Just Hungry would get my vote — we’ve all been there — but Sean makes Nirvana sound interesting, so I think I’ll follow his lead this week and choose Adventures in Reincarnation, too.

MICHELLE: There are a few titles that I’m somewhat interested in, but what I’m looking forward to the most is seeing whether the lead couple of The Full-Time Wife Escapist actually makes any progress. So, that’s my pick this week!

ASH: I’m a bit more curious about Nirvana now that I know a little more about it, but I must say that after three years since the last volume, it’s Drifters that really has my attention. It’s not a series that necessarily makes much sense, but it’s certainly bombastic with energetic action sequences and outrageous characters. (At least if I recall correctly; it’s been a while… )

ANNA: I’m intrigued by Nirvana after seeing everyone talk about it more, but the manga I’m probably most likely to get and read this week is Altair: A Record of Battles Volume 2, once I read volume 1 that is!

Pick of the Week: Shining Wind And Twinkling Stars

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MICHELLE: It’s that time of year again! I’m very interested in the conclusion of Otherworld Barbara as well as I Hear the Sunspot and She and Her Cat, but I am simply unable to pass up my annual chance to squee about Kaze Hikaru. I agree with AshLynx, who expressed a wish that VIZ would start making the annual release a 2-in-1 volume. Otherwise we won’t catch up to where Japan is now until I’m retired!

SEAN: I can’t break with the yearly tradition. It’s definitely Kaze Hikaru as my pick. My goal is for it to sell well enough that we might see it… dare I hope… TWICE a year!

ANNA: Kaze Hikaru all the way for me as well. I love that series!

KATE: Add my name to the chorus of folks recommending Kaze Hikaru. I’m glad VIZ continues to publish new installments, but second Michelle’s request for a slightly faster release schedule. The East Coast will be underwater before we get the final volume here in the US!

ASH: Despite its slow release schedule, I’ve still somehow managed to fall behind with Kaze Hikaru. And so while I do plan on reading it because I do like the series, my pick this week (perhaps surprisingly) actually goes to Twinkle Stars. Although the series is a little trope-worn in places, I found the first two omnibuses to be both compelling and emotionally resonant.