Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

Pick of the Week: Sakuran & X

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SEAN: It’s another tiny, tiny week at Midtown Comics, with only four titles to choose from. Given that, I will go with Sakuran from Vertical, Inc., despite it also appearing on this list two weeks ago. Comic readers who enjoy Love & Rockets type fare should give this book a try, though. It’s complete in one volume, contains some fantastic art, and has a strong plotline showing us someone who could easily use her looks and intelligence to rise to the top, and does—in spite of all her best efforts. It’s fascinating and raw, and probably the best Moyoco Anno title I’ve read to date.

MJ: I’m with Sean. I’ve been eagerly anticipating Sakuran‘s release since Vertical announced it last fall, and it’s my must-read manga this week. I can hardly wait to pick this up.

MICHELLE: See above re; Sakuran!

KATE: Since I’ve already plugged Sakuran both here and at my own site, I’ll make a pitch for the third volume of CLAMP’s X. One of the things I like best about the new VIZ 3-in-1 edition is the trim size. CLAMP’s gorgeous, swirling linework and epic battles finally have enough room to breathe, allowing readers to appreciate just how detailed (and gory!) it really is. I’m also enjoying the omnibus format; with an enormous cast and a profusion of subplots, X is the kind of story that’s best read in large installments. (I can’t keep track of the Seals and Dragons otherwise!) It’s frustrating to know that this series still doesn’t have a proper conclusion, but when the page-by-page journey is so engrossing, I almost don’t care.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: Suki

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The brilliant sociopath, the hooker with the heart of gold, and the naïf are my three least favorite character types, the first two for their tiresome ubiquity in popular culture, and the third for being tiresome: when was the last time you read a story about a sweet, innocent person that didn’t make you feel horribly manipulated or horribly jaded? Imagine my surprise, then, at discovering CLAMP’s delightfully odd series Suki: A Like Story, which revolves around a brilliant but impossibly naive teenager who trusts everyone, reads picture books, and talks to teddy bears. I thought I’d be tearing my breast in agony by the end of the first chapter; instead, I quickly succumbed to Suki‘s charms and even suppressed a sniffle or two in the final pages.

Suki succeeds, in large part, because the supporting cast has the same reaction to sixteen-year-old Hinata Asashi as the reader. Hina’s boundless enthusiasm endears her to best friends, Touko and Emi, though both roll their eyes at her inability to read social cues or grasp ulterior motives. Touko, in particular, is keen to protect her pal; as we learn in the second volume of the series, Hina has been kidnapped nine — count ’em — times over the course of her short life. (Hina’s dad is rich and willing to pay ransom for the safe return of his daughter.) Though an ordinary person might be deeply scarred by such experiences — or least more suspicious of strangers — Hina remains cheerful and oblivious to signs that a tenth abduction might be in the works.

Those signs include a string of odd coincidences: the long-vacant house next to Hina’s is suddenly occupied by a handsome young man who just happens to be Hina’s new homeroom teacher, Shiro Asou. Shiro just happens to be around whenever Hina is in need of an escort, or rescuing. And Shiro just happens to conduct clandestine meetings when the class goes on field trips. The ever-vigilant Touko quickly suspects the worst, but Hina interprets Shiro’s gruff yet solicitous behavior as concern, and develops a chaste crush on her sensei.

Watching Hina come to terms with her feelings is a painful but believable process. At first, she revels in any opportunity to spend time with Shiro, whether they’re raking leaves or walking home from school. Later, she begins to see parallels between their relationship and the relationship between two characters in a favorite picture-book series. (More on the series-within-a-series gambit in a minute.) In the final chapters of the book, Hina develops a more realistic idea of who Shiro is, eventually telling him how her feelings have evolved from youthful naivete to adult maturity. “At first, I fell in love with you because you did so many things I loved,” she confesses. “But from now on, Asou-san… whatever you do for yourself… I’ll love you for that.”

That Hina’s epiphany is facilitated, in part, by reading a children’s book may strike some readers as hopelessly twee. Suki — the name of the story-within-a-story — isn’t subtle; using bears as surrogates for Hina and Shiro, Suki charts the budding friendship between a small, chatty bear and her large, bespectacled neighbor. The parallels between the main plot and the story-within-the-story are obvious, but they serve an important purpose, reminding us that Hina is struggling to reconcile new, adult feelings with her decidedly child-like worldview.

Art-wise, Suki: A Like Story is one of CLAMP’s simplest — one might even say plainest — series. Tsubaki Nekoi’s style is much less Baroque than her cohorts’; she favors ordinary street clothes over epaulets and garter belts, and more realistic physiques over exaggerated shoulders and sharp chins. By shedding the fanciful trappings, Nekoi focuses the reader’s attention on faces, allowing us to fully register how each character is feeling. Nowhere is that more evident in the way Nekoi draws Touko. Touko is by far the most mature girl at Hina’s school, and the one most attuned to signs of adult malfeasance. Though Touko voices her concerns, the sadness in her face reveals a level of understanding that might be rooted in her own experiences, not just Hina’s:

Though Hina has a much more innocent personality than Touko, Nekoi resists the temptation to draw Hina as a child; Hina is clearly meant to be a teenager, given her size and athleticism. Hina’s transparent facial expressions, wide-eyed enthusiasm, and sudden, darting movements, however, hint at the discrepancy between her chronological and emotional ages; she bounces and skips and claps her way through the story, reacting with intense glee at even the briefest exchange with Shiro:

The art isn’t perfect by any means. Shiro’s proportions, for example, often look wrong: he has a tiny head and an enormous frame, and is so much taller than the other characters that he’d be NBA draft material in real life. Suki, the book-within-a-book, is also problematic. It’s quite possibly the dullest picture book I’ve read, a series of simple drawings accompanied by large, undifferentiated blocks of text. I certainly wasn’t expecting Sylvester and the Magic Pebble (or A Kiss for Little Bear), but the flat, unimaginative illustrations make it harder for the reader to imagine why someone Hina’s age would find the story so compelling:

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Suki is that Hina’s realistic coming-of-age story is embedded within a thriller. The suspenseful elements of Suki are handled with skill and restraint, even if they are a wee bit ridiculous. (OK, a lot ridiculous: who allows their frequently kidnapped sixteen-year-old daughter to live alone with her teddy bears?!) The few action scenes are brief but crisply executed, adding some much-needed variety in tone and pacing to the story. If the ending is a little too tidy, CLAMP avoids the trap of pandering to the reader’s expectations of what should happen; there’s a note of melancholy in that final scene, joyous though Hina may be.

Readers curious about Suki: A Like Story won’t have too much difficulty tracking down used copies on eBay or Amazon; the complete series will set you back about $20-30.

SUKI: A LIKE STORY, VOLS. 1-3 • BY CLAMP • TOKYOPOP • RATING: TEEN (13+)

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: Suki

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The brilliant sociopath, the hooker with the heart of gold, and the naïf are my three least favorite character types, the first two for their tiresome ubiquity in popular culture, and the third for being tiresome: when was the last time you read a story about a sweet, innocent person that didn’t make you feel horribly manipulated or horribly jaded? Imagine my surprise, then, at discovering CLAMP’s delightfully odd series Suki: A Like Story, which revolves around a brilliant but impossibly naive teenager who trusts everyone, reads picture books, and talks to teddy bears. I thought I’d be tearing my breast in agony by the end of the first chapter; instead, I quickly succumbed to Suki‘s charms and even suppressed a sniffle or two in the final pages.

Suki succeeds, in large part, because the supporting cast has the same reaction to sixteen-year-old Hinata Asashi as the reader. Hina’s boundless enthusiasm endears her to best friends, Touko and Emi, though both roll their eyes at her inability to read social cues or grasp ulterior motives. Touko, in particular, is keen to protect her pal; as we learn in the second volume of the series, Hina has been kidnapped nine — count ’em — times over the course of her short life. (Hina’s dad is rich and willing to pay ransom for the safe return of his daughter.) Though an ordinary person might be deeply scarred by such experiences — or least more suspicious of strangers — Hina remains cheerful and oblivious to signs that a tenth abduction might be in the works.

Those signs include a string of odd coincidences: the long-vacant house next to Hina’s is suddenly occupied by a handsome young man who just happens to be Hina’s new homeroom teacher, Shiro Asou. Shiro just happens to be around whenever Hina is in need of an escort, or rescuing. And Shiro just happens to conduct clandestine meetings when the class goes on field trips. The ever-vigilant Touko quickly suspects the worst, but Hina interprets Shiro’s gruff yet solicitous behavior as concern, and develops a chaste crush on her sensei.

Watching Hina come to terms with her feelings is a painful but believable process. At first, she revels in any opportunity to spend time with Shiro, whether they’re raking leaves or walking home from school. Later, she begins to see parallels between their relationship and the relationship between two characters in a favorite picture-book series. (More on the series-within-a-series gambit in a minute.) In the final chapters of the book, Hina develops a more realistic idea of who Shiro is, eventually telling him how her feelings have evolved from youthful naivete to adult maturity. “At first, I fell in love with you because you did so many things I loved,” she confesses. “But from now on, Asou-san… whatever you do for yourself… I’ll love you for that.”

That Hina’s epiphany is facilitated, in part, by reading a children’s book may strike some readers as hopelessly twee. Suki — the name of the story-within-a-story — isn’t subtle; using bears as surrogates for Hina and Shiro, Suki charts the budding friendship between a small, chatty bear and her large, bespectacled neighbor. The parallels between the main plot and the story-within-the-story are obvious, but they serve an important purpose, reminding us that Hina is struggling to reconcile new, adult feelings with her decidedly child-like worldview.

Art-wise, Suki: A Like Story is one of CLAMP’s simplest — one might even say plainest — series. Tsubaki Nekoi’s style is much less Baroque than her cohorts’; she favors ordinary street clothes over epaulets and garter belts, and more realistic physiques over exaggerated shoulders and sharp chins. By shedding the fanciful trappings, Nekoi focuses the reader’s attention on faces, allowing us to fully register how each character is feeling. Nowhere is that more evident in the way Nekoi draws Touko. Touko is by far the most mature girl at Hina’s school, and the one most attuned to signs of adult malfeasance. Though Touko voices her concerns, the sadness in her face reveals a level of understanding that might be rooted in her own experiences, not just Hina’s:

Though Hina has a much more innocent personality than Touko, Nekoi resists the temptation to draw Hina as a child; Hina is clearly meant to be a teenager, given her size and athleticism. Hina’s transparent facial expressions, wide-eyed enthusiasm, and sudden, darting movements, however, hint at the discrepancy between her chronological and emotional ages; she bounces and skips and claps her way through the story, reacting with intense glee at even the briefest exchange with Shiro:

The art isn’t perfect by any means. Shiro’s proportions, for example, often look wrong: he has a tiny head and an enormous frame, and is so much taller than the other characters that he’d be NBA draft material in real life. Suki, the book-within-a-book, is also problematic. It’s quite possibly the dullest picture book I’ve read, a series of simple drawings accompanied by large, undifferentiated blocks of text. I certainly wasn’t expecting Sylvester and the Magic Pebble (or A Kiss for Little Bear), but the flat, unimaginative illustrations make it harder for the reader to imagine why someone Hina’s age would find the story so compelling:

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Suki is that Hina’s realistic coming-of-age story is embedded within a thriller. The suspenseful elements of Suki are handled with skill and restraint, even if they are a wee bit ridiculous. (OK, a lot ridiculous: who allows their frequently kidnapped sixteen-year-old daughter to live alone with her teddy bears?!) The few action scenes are brief but crisply executed, adding some much-needed variety in tone and pacing to the story. If the ending is a little too tidy, CLAMP avoids the trap of pandering to the reader’s expectations of what should happen; there’s a note of melancholy in that final scene, joyous though Hina may be.

Readers curious about Suki: A Like Story won’t have too much difficulty tracking down used copies on eBay or Amazon; the complete series will set you back about $20-30.

SUKI: A LIKE STORY, VOLS. 1-3 • BY CLAMP • TOKYOPOP • RATING: TEEN (13+)

My 5 Favorite CLAMP Manga

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I’ve read almost every CLAMP title available in English, from X (or X/1999, as we called it in back in the day) to Gate 7, and while I can’t claim to love them all, there is a core group of manga that I’ve read, re-read, and recommended to other fans. I make no special claims of excellence for these series, though I will say that these manga impressed me with their technical brilliance, genre-bending narratives, and beautiful artwork, if not their stellar endings.

MAGIC KNIGHT RAYEARTH (Dark Horse; 2 volumes)

It’s easy to forget that Magic Knight Rayearth ran in the pages of Nakayoshi, as it adheres so closely to the friendship-effort-victory template that it almost passes for a Shonen Jump title. A careful reading of MKR, however, reveals it to be a unique fusion of shojo and shonen storytelling practices. On a moment to moment basis, MKR reads like shojo: the heroines denigrate their academic prowess, swoon over the only cute boy to cross their path, and extol the value of “heart” in defeating their enemies. The intense and protracted battle scenes, however, scream Naruto — or maybe Gundam — as the girls are pushed to their physical and emotional limits while casting spells, swinging swords, and piloting giant robots. That CLAMP reconciles such tonally different genres into a coherent whole is an impressive narrative feat; no matter how many times the heroines utter dippy or painfully sincere sentiments, their tenacity in combat makes them every bit as bad-ass as Naruto, InuYasha, or Ichigo Kurasaki. -Reviewed at The Manga Critic on July 22, 2011.

LEGAL DRUG (Tokyopop; 3 volumes)

I hesitate to use the word “intertextual” to describe Legal Drug, as that term is so heavily freighted with academic associations. But intertextual it is, as Legal Drug takes place in a universe that’s been carefully mapped out in prior works such as Angelic Layer, Cardcaptor Sakura, and Suki. Major and minor characters from Chobits and Suki wander in and out of the story, providing comic relief and commentary on the budding relationship between Rikuo and Kazahaya, two handsome young errand boys for the Green Drugstore. As in xxxHolic — a series in which Rikuo and Kazahaya make guest appearances — the supernatural frequently intrudes on mundane existence, giving rise to scenes of sublime comedy and surreal grace. An odd mixture of melancholy and whimsy, with a soupçon of shonen-ai.

CLOVER (Dark Horse; 1 volume)

Clover is a gorgeous train wreck, an unholy marriage of shojo, steampunk, and science fiction that almost — almost — gels into a coherent story. The plot revolves around a class of psychically gifted individuals known as Clovers, who have been rounded up, tested, and sorted into categories based on their abilities. The most powerful — Three- and Four-Leaf Clovers — have been imprisoned, as they pose a threat to humanity.

In the small fragment of story that CLAMP completed, the Clovers’ abilities are hastily sketched; the few demonstrations of their powers are less-than-awe-inspiring, and the government’s reasons for fearing them poorly explained. But oh, the atmosphere! Anyone who remembers what it felt like to be fourteen will recognize the Clovers’ magnificent isolation, as they struggle with feelings of loneliness, rejection, and desire; that they’ve been singled out for being different (and special!) only heightens the emotional intensity of their dilemma. The artwork, too, is a feast for the eyes, with inventive layouts and sensual character designs that rank among CLAMP’s finest. Even CLAMP’s use of soggy, overwrought song lyrics as a narrative device contributes to the story’s moody beauty, if not the pantheon of great love songs.

SHIRAHIME-SYO: SNOW GODDESS TALES (Tokyopop; 1 volume)

Shirahime-Syo: Snow Goddess Tales is testament to CLAMP’s Borg-like ability assimilate any genre or artistic style and make it into their own. The three stories that comprise this slim volume are folkloric in tone and subject-matter, but expressed in a visual language that’s a beautiful synthesis of shojo manga and ukiyo print-making; the characters — with their pointy chins and artfully tousled hair — inhabit stark landscapes reminiscent of the Kishi and Shijo schools. If the overall mood is more subdued than xxxHolic or Tokyo Babylon, the stories are nonetheless moving in their directness and simplicity. The first, “On Wolf Mountain,” is the strongest of the three, exploring how one girl’s quest for revenge is transformed by the discovery that her enemy is, in fact, more courageous and generous than she ever imagined. The other stories — “The Ice Flower” and “Hiyoku no Tori” — read more like entries in Lafcadio Hearn’s Kwaidan and Other Strange Stories, but are nonetheless effective parables about sacrifice. An out-of-print gem.

X (VIZ; 6 volumes)

On many levels, X is a bad manga: the characters are underwritten, the storytelling is lazy, and the dialogue is comically awful. (Don’t believe me? Check out Party Like It’s 1999, a Tumblr blog dedicated to exploring X on a page-by-page basis.) If you can look past the 90s hair and the tin-eared dialogue, however, what you’ll discover is a fierce apocalyptic drama that boasts some of the best end-of-the-world imagery in any manga not written by Katsuhiro Otomo. Oh, and blood. Buckets of blood.

The battle scenes are kinetic and violent, executed with a gory zest that’s difficult to resist. The dream sequences, too, are suitably shocking: characters are dismembered, crucified, impaled, and engulfed in flames, often right before their loved ones’ eyes. I hesitate to suggest that X‘s body count is a victory for women, but it is a sharp and welcome rebuke to the idea that female readers strongly prefer conversation and character development to butt-kicking and carnage. – Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 10/16/11.

So, readers, I turn the floor over to you: what are your favorite CLAMP titles? Which manga do you recommend to friends and new fans? Inquiring minds want to know!

Polterguys, Vol. 1

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If you’ve ever watched Iron Chef, you know that some competitors prevail by transforming the day’s theme ingredient into dishes of astonishing originality and complexity, while others win by making everyday dishes—say, mac and cheese or fish sticks—with such consummate skill that they elevate comfort food into cuisine. I don’t know what kind of cook Laurianne Uy is, but if I had to hazard a guess based on her writing, I’d say she fell into the second category of culinary magicians. Polterguys, her print debut, isn’t astonishing for its novelty, but for its masterful presentation of a familiar story.

That story goes something like this: nerdy high school girl Bree seeks a fresh start in college. Bree soon discovers, however, that college isn’t the haven she imagined it would be. Her roommate is loud and messy, and her classmates are more interested in partying than studying. When presented with the opportunity to live on her own, off-campus, Bree jumps at the chance. The house she rents, however, is already occupied… by five male ghosts. And cute ones, at that.

What prevents Polterguys from reading like a supernatural retread of Ouran High School Host Club is Uy’s ability to adapt the reverse-harem concept to an American setting. The college town in which the story takes place bears a strong resemblance to Berkeley, CA (or perhaps Palo Alto), and the characters who inhabit the town look and sound like American college students. Her ghosts are pleasingly diverse, running the gamut from all-American jock to dread-locked scientist. Best of all, Uy’s protagonist has a depth and complexity that many shojo heroines lack; Bree is smart and capable, but her prickly behavior, fierce work ethic, and inability to relate to her peers make her seem like a real person, rather than a wallflower who’s just waiting for a hot guy to fall in love with her. (She’s also appealingly quirky, hanging a picture of Dr. Sanjay Gupta on her dorm wall for hunkspiration.)

Polterguys also benefits from a tightly scripted story. Uy handles the exposition crisply, using an emotionally charged scene to frame the action: we meet Bree, watch her move into her college dorm, then see her collapsed, sobbing, in the rain several weeks later. The story then jumps back to the beginning of her first semester, showing us the sequence of events that led to that tearful moment. Though Uy covers considerable territory in her first volume, completing one character’s story arc and establishing another (presumably to be addressed in the second volume), the narrative never feels rushed; Uy steadily increases the dramatic tension, building to third-act climax that’s both sad and satisfying.

Art-wise, Polterguys may remind readers of Dramacon and Nightschool — not because Uy’s style resembles Svetlana Chmakova’s, but because Uy, like Chmakova, employs an artistic vocabulary that’s a distillation of shojo manga conventions, rather than a slavish imitation. Uy’s character designs are a great example: though they’re heavily stylized and simplified, they owe as much a debt to Archie as they do to Ouran; the only obvious nod to shojo manga is embodied in a pair of twins who have a bad case of Manga Hair. (Both sport spiky, skunk-striped fetlocks.) In another departure from standard shojo operating procedure, Uy draws Bree as a slightly awkward, geeky figure — bespectacled and freckled, favoring Carhart pants over cute outfits — rather than a blandly pretty teen.

The Polterguys with Bree (front right). Image copyright Laurianne Uy.

Perhaps the best compliment I can pay Polterguys is that it’s an old story told well. Uy’s witty script and appealing characters leave a fresh impression, even when the plot itself does not; Polterguys is one of the most unabashedly fun new comics I’ve read this summer. Recommended.

Where to Read and Buy: Readers curious about Polterguys can read the entire first volume at Laurianne Uy’s website. Thanks to a successful Kickstarter campaign and a 2012 Xeric Grant, readers who would like to own a copy can purchase PDF and paper copies through her website. Polterguys is also available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the Apple Bookstore.

Review copy provided by the artist.

Quick Wednesday manga links

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Pour yourself a cup of coffee and grab a Danish — Ryan Holmberg has posted another in-depth article about the early manga industry, this time examining the influence of American cartoonists on Osamu Tezuka’s early artistic development.

Derek Bown dedicates his latest Combat Commentary column to Naruto.

Sequential Tart interviews Gina Biggs, creator of the OEL manga Red String.

And the Eisner goes to… Shigeru Mizuki’s autobiographical comic Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths, which won the award for Best U.S. Edition of International Material — Asia. Katsuhiro Otomo also got a nod from the judges, earning himself a spot in the Eisner Hall of Fame.

Shiftylook, a webcomic initiative of Namco/Bandai, has hired manga-ka Hitoshi Ariga (The Big O, Megaman Megamix) to draw a new webcomic based on popular game Klonoa; Canadian artist and writer Jim Zub will pen the script.

Reviews: Over at Anime News Network, Carlo Santos dedicates his latest Right Turn Only!! column to such new releases as 5 Centimeters Per Second and Jiu Jiu. Closer to home, the Manga Bookshelf gang posts an assortment of brief reviews.

Patti Martinson on vol. 20 of Claymore (Sequential Tart)
Connie on vol. 2 of Dawn of the Arcana (Slightly Biased Manga)
Johanna Draper Carlson on Genshinken: Second Season Book One (Manga Worth Reading)
Erica Friedman on Jigoku NEET (Okazu)
Connie on vol. 14 of Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You (Slightly Biased Manga)
Sean Gaffney on vol. 63 of One Piece (A Case Suitable for Treatment)
Lissa Patillo on vol. 18 of Ouran High School Host Club (Kuriousity)
Connie on vol. 2 of Princess Knight (Slightly Biased Manga)
Lori Henderson on vols. 8-9 of Rin-ne (Manga Xanadu)
Connie on vol. 2 of Wandering Son (Slightly Biased Manga)

Monday morning manga links

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If you weren’t able to attend San Diego Comic-Con, fear not: Sean Gaffney has posted a report detailing the major licensing news from Kodansha Comics, VIZ Media, and Yen Press. Among the most exciting announcements at SDCC came from JManga, which has teamed up with Kodansha to rescue titles left unfinished by Tokyopop and Del Rey. JManga hasn’t revealed which titles it will be releasing through its online portal, so stay tuned.

Chip Kidd announced that he’s working on a new anthology of bara manga for PictureBox. Entitled The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame: Bara Master, the book will feature a dozen or so short stories by Tagame, and will be translated by Anne Ishii.

In honor of the just-announced Sailor Moon reboot, Mike Toole takes a look at the franchise’s fascinating twenty-year history, from storylines to swag.

The Manga Bookshelf gang — myself included — weigh in on this week’s new arrivals.

File under “Not Manga, But Relevant”: Manga Bookshelf contributor Sara K. offers tips for mastering a new language. Not surprisingly, she recommends reading comics as a fun vocabulary-building exercise.

Erica Friedman rounds up the latest yuri manga news at Okazu.

DMP’s ambitious Kickstarter campaign is entering its final week. Currently, the publisher has raised enough funds for two titles — Osamu Tezuka’s Unico and A*Tomcat — but is hoping to attract additional support for a third, Triton of the Sea. Readers curious about Triton can read a short preview at Kickstarter.

Reviews: MJ and Michelle Smith dedicate their latest Off the Shelf column to supernatural shojo titles, including Jiu Jiu and Natsume’s Book of Friends. Over at Experiments in Manga, Ash Brown reviews Bond(z), Hikaru no Go, and Olympos.

Sean Gaffney on vol. 1 of Alice in the Country of Clover: Cheshire Cat Waltz (A Case Suitable for Treatment)
Kristin Bomba on vol. 20 of Claymore and vol. 9 of Rosario + Vampire Season II (Comic Attack)
Kate O’Neil on vol. 7 of House of Five Leaves (The Fandom Post)
Ash Brown on NonNonBa (Experiments in Manga)
Matthew Alexander on vol. 6 of Omamori Himari (The Fandom Post)
Anna Neatrour on Roman Holiday (Manga Report)

Bookshelf Briefs 7/16/12

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This week, Sean, Kate, and Michelle look at recent releases from Yen Press, Kodansha Comics, and VIZ Media.

Dengeki Daisy, Vol. 10 | By Kyousuke Motomi | VIZ Media – It is interesting that, despite the fact that we are all rooting for Teru and Kurosaki to get together in the end, the fact that she’s still a student and he’s about 8 years older than her is never allowed to be forgotten. There’s that vague element of discomfort to the whole thing, which is why we’re happy that Kurosaki is never overly affectionate with Teru, even if everyone else is pushing him to be. As for Teru, here she finds that being the one always protected and always in danger sucks, especially when she gets beaten (literally) by Akira, who the author is clearly trying to show is a troubled child but we haven’t seen enough of his past to sympathize yet. Teru ends up wanting to get stronger and the the one who’s protecting. Admirable sentiment, especially as her friend Rena may be in trouble soon. We’ve caught up with Japan, so it will be a wait till the next volume, but always highly recommended. –Sean Gaffney

Fairy Tail, Vol. 20 | By Hiro Mashima | Kodansha Comics – Nirvana is taken care of right at the very beginning of this volume, leading us to expect most of thee volume will be a ‘breather’ and more comedic. Not at all. From Jellal’s arrest (I’m sure we’ll never see him again, wink wink) to the fate of Wendy’s Guild, this is a volume filled with heavy emotional moments. And Mashima is very good at those, better perhaps than his big shonen fights. I particularly liked Natsu’s talk with Gildarts – the clueless mage asks about Lisanna, and Natsu’s reaction is like nothing we’ve ever seen before – clearly her death affected him greatly. (Gildarts himself is fun, being that powerful yet goofy ‘dad’ type the guild has needed for a while.) As the volume ends, though, we start a new arc, with Natsu and Wendy in a land filled with opposite-personality duplicates of everyone. No doubt hijinks will ensue. –Sean Gaffney

Kobato, Vol. 6 | By CLAMP | Yen Press – CLAMP has a long and not-so-proud history of leaving series unfinished: witness X/1999, Clover, and Legal Drug, three stories that never got the ending they deserved. I’m pleased to report that CLAMP provides a satisfactory resolution to Kobato, tying up all the plot threads in a manner that should appease all but the most cynical of readers. If the storytelling is lazy at times — and what says “lazy” more than characters explaining things to one another that they’d presumably know? — CLAMP wins points for its elegant, graceful artwork and warm-hearted portrayal of even the most difficult characters. Their redemption may strike some readers as unbearably sappy, but honors the story’s greater message of selflessness and courage. – Kate Dacey

Kobato, Vol. 6 | By CLAMP | Published by Yen Press – And so Kobato comes to an end. It actually wraps up better than I expected it to, though I would’ve vastly preferred the ending if the final chapter had been omitted. Even now, there are several elements of the story that still feel half-formed—I feel like it could’ve truly been compelling if only I could’ve cared about anyone, but I never managed to do so. And while I would stop short of saying it all feels rushed, CLAMP takes the shortcut approach of having large amounts of backstory conveyed via dialogue, which gets a bit tiresome. At one point, one of the characters, having been lectured at length about a past for which he was present, cries, “I recall it all!” I doubt CLAMP was making commentary on the awkwardness of the exchange, but that remark still prompted a snicker from me. Ultimately, not bad but not a keeper, either. – Michelle Smith

Rin-Ne, Vol. 9 | By Rumiko Takahashi | VIZ Media – I really wish that Rin-Ne had more obvious flaws and faults, as it’s just not quite dull or bad enough to justify my dropping it. At the same time, however, there’s so little substance here that it’s like reading air. There’s no forward plot momentum here – even when Rinne’s father appears again, it’s in a fairly comedic story about a dead ramen owner. What we get instead are basic short stories about ghosts who cannot pass on unless they have aired out their grievances. That said, one thing that Takahashi’s work has kept throughout, from UY to Ranma to now, is that humans are basically horrible jerks. The ghosts are petty and perfectly happy damning others to their fate, while the loved ones they left behind are cruel cheaters who didn’t care in the first place. It lends a tart air to this otherwise generic supernatural comedy. –Sean Gaffney

Skip Beat!, Vol. 28 | By Yoshiki Nakamura | VIZ Media – For those who wanted more focus on the not-quite-romance between Kyoko and Ren, this is the volume for you. A near-deadly car accident leaves Ren having post-traumatic flashbacks to his time in America, and at last we start to get an idea of what actually happened that broke him so much. I liked the fact that, even though Kyoko is once again his guiding light and moral conscience, he also relies on advice from his friend Rick, which is… actually used in a pretty funny way, but whatever seems to work for him. As for Kyoko, it seems to finally be dawning on her what her feelings for Ren are, and she’s none too happy about it. That said, things seem to finally be moving forward for those two, so no doubt Vol. 29 will be filled with hideous complications that will screw everything up. Just as we like it. –Sean Gaffney

Slam Dunk, Vol. 22 | By Takehiko Inou | Published by VIZ Media – This is one of those in-between volumes, where the excitement of the Prefectural Tournament has passed but the Nationals have not yet begun. A few important things happen, though, with the most significant being that Hanamichi finally seems to grasp that, at his present skill level, he’s nowhere near as good as Rukawa. When the rest of the team goes off to a week-long training camp, Hanamichi stays behind with Coach Anzai for some rigorous practice. Although I prefer the fast-paced, volume-spanning games, there is still something satisfying about a volume like this, in which intense hard work pays off with measurable, definitive progress. If only real life were as simple as sports manga! – Michelle Smith

Toriko, Vol. 10 | By Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro | VIZ Media – Jump manga, especially the type brought over here, tend to follow certain patterns. Thus you know that there’s going to be a volume or two – or four – that are 200 pages of nothing but fights. This doesn’t necessarily mean I have to like it, though, and this volume had me flicking pages quickly to try and see what would happen after our heroes eventually triumphed over the bad guys. Not to say there isn’t a bit of cost – Toriko has now lost an arm, and I wonder what plot contrivance will let it grow back – and Teppei is another in a string of powerful yet dumb/weird guys we’ve seen in this series. But this volume didn’t even have people eating food – it was just punching, punching, punching. MORE FOOD, PLEASE. –Sean Gaffney

Pick of the Week: Nagato, Sakuran, 13th Boy final!

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SEAN: It’s rare for me to recommend a manga purely on the basis of OH MY GOD IT’S SO ADORABLE, if only because there are so many other moe titles that ply on that trait that I dislike. Puyo’s alternate universe take on the 4th Haruhi Suzumiya novel, however, The Disappearance of Nagato-Yuki-chan is an exception. The artwork may not be perfect, especially at the start, but otherwise this is basically Haruhi reimagined as a cute romantic comedy starring Kyon and Yuki. (Don’t worry, Haruhi won’t stay away for long). Funny in a cute way, angsty in a cute way, and romantic in a very cute way, this is for everyone who thought that Haruhi’s story would be great if only everyone was simply nice to each other. And wait till you see Ryoko Asakura. (Of course, non-Haruhi fans likely won’t get the same value, but…)

KATE: Midtown Comics isn’t listing Sakuran among this week’s new arrivals, but the book’s official street date is July 17th, so Sakuran is my pick. I’ve always been torn about Moyocco Anno’s work: though I love her stylish art, I wasn’t crazy about the gender politics of Happy Mania and Flowers and Bees. Sakuran, however, made into an Anno convert. Not only is it beautifully illustrated, it’s told with humor, grit, and surprising sensitivity, given the subject matter. The story also boasts one of the fiercest, most complicated heroines in recent memory; Kiyoha isn’t someone I’d like to emulate (or even spend time with), but I came to admire her tenacity and survival skills.

MICHELLE: There are other worthy entries on this list, but I only have eyes for 13th Boy. As was my rationale with Ouran High School Host Club a few weeks ago, it’s impossible for me not to pick the final volume of a beloved series when it’s my last opportunity to do so. 13th Boy is easily one of the strongest, most interesting and surprising manhwa series to be released in America; if you’re at all curious about comics from Korea, you owe it to yourself to check it out.

MJ: Well, I’m with both Kate and Michelle this week. But since I’ll get another crack at Sakuran whenever it does show up on Midtown’s list, this week I’ll side with the final volume of 13th Boy. For some perspective on this pick, I think by now you all know how much I love the beautiful coats and shirtsleeves in Pandora Hearts (another of this week’s bounty), and just how much sway that holds with me… and I’m still picking 13th Boy. Make of that what you will.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

These aren’t the Androids you’re looking for…

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Hey, y’all… Brigid is at San Diego Comic-Con this week where she’ll wearing several hats: journalist, panelist, and jurist. (That’s right: Brigid is one of this year’s Eisner Award judges!) That means you’re stuck with me for a couple of days. I’ll do my best to fill Brigid’s shoes; you can help out by emailing or tweeting me links to breaking news stories, interesting articles about manga, and, of course, reviews!

Speaking of SDCC, the first news items are beginning to trickle in. VIZ just unveiled its new Android manga app, which is available through Google Play. Users will be able to purchase volumes of popular VIZ titles such as Naruto and Black Bird, as well as issues of Weekly Shonen Alpha. VIZ also announced that it will be publishing Street Fighter x Sanrio: World View, in which characters from the video game duke it out with characters from Sanrio’s vast empire of cuteness.

Yen Press will be doing a graphic adaptation of James Patterson’s forthcoming novel, Zoo. Zoo is something of a departure for Yen; unlike Daniel X and Maximum Ride, the novel is clearly aimed at adult readers. Andy MacDonald is adapting and drawing the manga.

At the Kodansha Comics panel, Dallas Middaugh reviewed the company’s fall line-up, which will include three new titles: Genshinken: Second Season, Missions of Love, a shojo comedy by Emi Toyama (Pixie Pop, I Am Here!), and Danza, a short story collection by Natsume Ono (House of Five Leaves, not simple). Middaugh also announced that Kodansha would be re-issuing Battle Angel Alita: Last Order in a new, omnibus edition in 2013.

Rebecca Silverman interviews Kaze editors David Guelou and Raphael Pennes about Japan: One Year Later, an anthology exploring the aftermath of last year’s devastating earthquake and tsunami.

Last but not least, MJ will be hosting the July Manga Movable Feast at Manga Bookshelf. The topic is CLAMP, and the discussion begins on Monday, July 23rd.

News from Japan: The latest issue of Hana to Yume reports that Julietta Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss will be getting the anime treatment; no word yet on a possible air date, though Akitaro Daichi (Fruits Basket, Kodocha) will direct the series.

Reviews: Over at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson files brief reviews of Bakuman and Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan.

Anna Neatrour on vol. 3 of Alice in the Country of Hearts Omnibus (Manga Report)
Serdar Yegulalp on vol. 2 of The Flowers of Evil (Genji Press)
Jenny on vols. 1-27 of Fullmetal Alchemist (No Flying No Tights)
Kristin Bomba on vol. 7 of House of Five Leaves (Comic Attack)
Paige McKee on vol. 9 of Jormungand (Sequential Tart)
Sean Gaffney on Olympos (A Case Suitable for Treatment)
Kate Dacey on Sakuran (The Manga Critic)
Sheena McNeil on vol. 7 of Tenjo Tenge: Full Contact Edition (Sequential Tart)
Nichole on vol. 1 of Ugly Duckling’s Love Revolution (No Flying No Tights)

Sakuran

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The oiran, or Japanese courtesan, is a product of seventeenth century Japan. Like the geisha who eclipsed them in popularity, the oiran were not simply prostitutes; they were companions and performers, trained in a variety of arts — calligraphy, music, flower arranging — and prized for their ability to converse with powerful men. Though confined to the official pleasure districts of Edo, Kyoto, and Osaka, they were highly visible, formally parading through the streets in elaborate costumes, attended by a retinue of maids.

As a potent symbol of the new, hedonistic culture of urban Japan, the oiran were frequent subjects of ukiyo-e, or “floating world” prints. Artists such as Suzuki Harunobou emphasized the oiran’s refinement, the rarefied world in which they operated, and, in their more explicit shunga prints, the bodily pleasures they offered.

Moyocco Anno’s Sakuran presents a less romanticized image of the oiran, documenting one girl’s rise from maid to tayuu, or head courtesan. We first meet Kiyoha as an eight-year-old child: orphaned and undisciplined, she chafes against the strict rules inside Edo’s Tamagiku House, making several unsuccessful attempts to escape. Shohi, Kiyoha’s mistress, is one of the few people to recognize Kiyoha’s potential: not only is Kiyoha quick-witted, she also boasts a porcelain complexion and delicate facial features, both highly prized assets in a courtesan. Shohi’s method for grooming Kiyoha for her new role is less tutoring than hazing, however, a mixture of slaps, insults, and mind games designed to teach Kiyoha to behave in a more dignified fashion.

Anno’s artwork is uniquely suited to the subject matter: it’s both starkly ugly and exquisitely beautiful, capable of conveying the anger and suffering beneath Kiyoha’s carefully manicured appearance. When we first meet Kiyoha, for example, Anno draws her as a “dirty little turnip” with a snot-stained face, unkempt hair, and an ill-fitting yukata. Though Kiyoha undergoes a remarkable transformation over the course of the manga, we are frequently reminded of what she looked like when she first arrived at Tamagiku. Kiyoha’s face contorts into a grotesque, child-like mask whenever she feels wronged or vulnerable, and she frequently reverts to a feral posture when eating, as if her bowl might be snatched from her hands.

In this sequence, for example, twelve-year-old Kiyoha interrupts a transaction between a shinzu (the lowest ranking courtesan of the house) and a lecherous customer. Kiyoha’s motives for intervening are unclear, since her relationship with the shinzu in question is never carefully delineated. As she tussles with the customer, however, we see Kiyoha’s childhood survival instinct emerge in full force, overriding Shohi’s etiquette lessons:

One of the things this sequence also emphasizes is the discrepancy in power between the low-ranking courtesans and the house clientele; any violation of established protocol could result in severe reprisal. Anno infuses this scene with special urgency by using blunt, contemporary speech in lieu of the archaic language that verisimilitude might demand. It’s a welcome departure from the tortured, Fakespearian dialogue that plagues the otherwise brilliant Ooku: The Inner Chambers, focusing the reader’s attention on visual signifiers of class and gender — eye contact, body language, clothing — rather than honorifics and awkward syntax.

Perhaps Anno’s greatest achievement is her ability to capture her characters’ physical beauty and sensuality without reducing them to objects. Even the most erotic images are carefully framed as business transactions: the dialogue reminds us that the oiran are performing for their customers, creating an illusion of sexual and emotional intimacy for the sake of money, while their customers’ grim expressions and sweaty bodies remind us of their determination to get the most bang for the buck (so to speak).

If Sakuran sounds like a hectoring treatise on prostitution, rest assured it’s not. Anno creates a vibrant, fascinating world, teeming with people from every walk of life. Though her female characters have limited agency, they nonetheless find opportunities to exert influence over their customers, improve their social standing, and choose their own lovers.

Kiyoha embodies all the contradictions and complexities of her environment: she’s impetuous, competitive, and unmoved by her peers’ hardships, yet she has a great capacity for feeling — and transcending — pain. That Kiyoha is, at times, a repellant figure, does not diminish her appeal as a character; we appreciate the mental toughness that her job demands, and admire her efforts to push back against its limits. It seems only fitting that the story ends not with the outcome that a modern reader might choose for this fierce woman, but with one that reflects the heroine’s own clear-eyed understanding of what she is. Highly recommended.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

SAKURAN • BY MOYOCCO ANNO • VERTICAL, INC. • 308 pp. • RATING: MATURE (VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, AND SEXUAL NUDITY)

Sakuran

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The oiran, or Japanese courtesan, is a product of seventeenth century Japan. Like the geisha who eclipsed them in popularity, the oiran were not simply prostitutes; they were companions and performers, trained in a variety of arts — calligraphy, music, flower arranging — and prized for their ability to converse with powerful men. Though confined to the official pleasure districts of Edo, Kyoto, and Osaka, they were highly visible, formally parading through the streets in elaborate costumes, attended by a retinue of maids. As a potent symbol of the new, hedonistic culture of urban Japan, the oiran were frequent subjects of ukiyo-e, or “floating world” prints. Artists such as Suzuki Harunobou emphasized the oiran’s refinement, the rarefied world in which they operated, and, in their more explicit shunga prints, the bodily pleasures they offered.

Moyocco Anno’s Sakuran presents a less romanticized image of the oiran, documenting one girl’s rise from maid to tayuu, or head courtesan. We first meet Kiyoha as an eight-year-old child: orphaned and undisciplined, she chafes against the strict rules inside Edo’s Tamagiku House, making several unsuccessful attempts to escape. Shohi, Kiyoha’s mistress, is one of the few people to recognize Kiyoha’s potential: not only is Kiyoha quick-witted, she also boasts a porcelain complexion and delicate facial features, both highly prized assets in a courtesan. Shohi’s method for grooming Kiyoha for her new role is less tutoring than hazing, however, a mixture of slaps, insults, and mind games designed to teach Kiyoha to behave in a more dignified fashion.

Anno’s artwork is uniquely suited to the subject matter: it’s both starkly ugly and exquisitely beautiful, capable of conveying the anger and suffering beneath Kiyoha’s carefully manicured appearance. When we first meet Kiyoha, for example, Anno draws her as a “dirty little turnip” with a snot-stained face, unkempt hair, and an ill-fitting yukata. Though Kiyoha undergoes a remarkable transformation over the course of the manga, we are frequently reminded of what she looked like when she first arrived at Tamagiku. Kiyoha’s face contorts into a grotesque, child-like mask whenever she feels wronged or vulnerable, and she frequently reverts to a feral posture when eating, as if her bowl might be snatched from her hands.

In this sequence, for example, twelve-year-old Kiyoha interrupts a transaction between a shinzu (the lowest ranking courtesan of the house) and a lecherous customer. Kiyoha’s motives for intervening are unclear, since her relationship with the shinzu in question is never carefully delineated. As she tussles with the customer, however, we see Kiyoha’s childhood survival instinct emerge in full force, overriding Shohi’s etiquette lessons:

One of the things this sequence also emphasizes is the discrepancy in power between the low-ranking courtesans and the house clientele; any violation of established protocol could result in severe reprisal. Anno infuses this scene with special urgency by using blunt, contemporary speech in lieu of the archaic language that verisimilitude might demand. It’s a welcome departure from the tortured, Fakespearian dialogue that plagues the otherwise brilliant Ooku: The Inner Chambers, focusing the reader’s attention on visual signifiers of class and gender — eye contact, body language, clothing — rather than honorifics and awkward syntax.

Perhaps Anno’s greatest achievement is her ability to capture her characters’ physical beauty and sensuality without reducing them to objects. Even the most erotic images are carefully framed as business transactions: the dialogue reminds us that the oiran are performing for their customers, creating an illusion of sexual and emotional intimacy for the sake of money, while their customers’ grim expressions and sweaty bodies remind us of their determination to get the most bang for the buck (so to speak).

If Sakuran sounds like a hectoring treatise on prostitution, rest assured it’s not. Anno creates a vibrant, fascinating world, teeming with people from every walk of life. Though her female characters have limited agency, they nonetheless find opportunities to exert influence over their customers, improve their social standing, and choose their own lovers.

Kiyoha embodies all the contradictions and complexities of her environment: she’s impetuous, competitive, and unmoved by her peers’ hardships, yet she has a great capacity for feeling — and transcending — pain. That Kiyoha is, at times, a repellant figure, does not diminish her appeal as a character; we appreciate the mental toughness that her job demands, and admire her efforts to push back against its limits. It seems only fitting that the story ends not with the outcome that a modern reader might choose for this fierce woman, but with one that reflects the heroine’s own clear-eyed understanding of what she is. Highly recommended.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

SAKURAN • BY MOYOCCO ANNO • VERTICAL, INC. • 308 pp. • RATING: MATURE (VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, AND SEXUAL NUDITY)

The Flowers of Evil, Vol. 2

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Do you remember the first time you tried to impress someone on a date? I do: I was fifteen, and thrilled that an older boy had invited me to dinner. (He drove a Mazda two-seater and quoted lines from Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, which, in 1988, made him a god.) My strategy for wooing him was to describe, in excruciating detail, the nuances of Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka, from the opening tableau to the final notes. I was convinced that if he could see my passion for something as dark and powerful as that ballet, he’d understand who I really was, and fall in love with that person. (Needless to say, we didn’t go on a second date.)

Kasuga, the earnest hero of The Flowers of Evil, finds himself in a similar situation at the beginning of volume two: Saeki, the classmate whom he’s loved from afar, has finally consented to go on a date with him. As they wander the aisles of his favorite bookstore, Kasuga confesses to Saeki that Baudelaire’s Fleurs du Mal “changed how I see the world. I felt as though I’d been an ignorant fool my whole life.”  It’s a cringe-inducing moment — not because Saeki mocks Kasuga, or recoils from him, but because Kasuga has exposed himself in such a clumsy, sincere, and godawful manner.

That sincerity is nearly his undoing. Throughout the volume, Nakamura goads Kasuga about Saeki, reacting with fury when Kasuga asks Saeki to enter into a “pure, platonic relationship” with him: how dare he pretend to be normal? Nakamura then redoubles her efforts to reveal Kasuga’s “perversion,” currying favor with Saeki while pouring poison in Kasuga’s ear. But to what end? The final scene of the manga offers some interesting, and surprising, hints at Nakamura’s true agenda while suggesting that Kasuga might, in fact, have more in common with her than he’d care to admit. I won’t reveal what happens, but will venture to say that “orgiastic” is an apt description of those last glorious, frenzied pages.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

THE FLOWERS OF EVIL, VOL. 2 | BY SHUZO OSHIMI | VERTICAL, INC. | 168 pp.

The Flowers of Evil, Vol. 2

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Do you remember the first time you tried to impress someone on a date? I do: I was fifteen, and thrilled that an older boy had invited me to dinner. (He drove a Mazda two-seater and quoted lines from Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, which, in 1988, made him a god.) My strategy for wooing him was to describe, in excruciating detail, the nuances of Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka, from the opening tableau to the final notes. I was convinced that if he could see my passion for something as dark and powerful as that ballet, he’d understand who I really was, and fall in love with that person. (Needless to say, we didn’t go on a second date.)

Kasuga, the earnest hero of The Flowers of Evil, finds himself in a similar situation at the beginning of volume two: Saeki, the classmate whom he’s loved from afar, has finally consented to go on a date with him. As they wander the aisles of his favorite bookstore, Kasuga confesses to Saeki that Baudelaire’s Fleurs du Mal “changed how I see the world. I felt as though I’d been an ignorant fool my whole life.”  It’s a cringe-inducing moment — not because Saeki mocks Kasuga, or recoils from him, but because Kasuga has exposed himself in such a clumsy, sincere, and godawful manner.

That sincerity is nearly his undoing. Throughout the volume, Nakamura goads Kasuga about Saeki, reacting with fury when Kasuga asks Saeki to enter into a “pure, platonic relationship” with him: how dare he pretend to be normal? Nakamura then redoubles her efforts to reveal Kasuga’s “perversion,” currying favor with Saeki while pouring poison in Kasuga’s ear. But to what end? The final scene of the manga offers some interesting, and surprising, hints at Nakamura’s true agenda while suggesting that Kasuga might, in fact, have more in common with her than he’d care to admit. I won’t reveal what happens, but will venture to say that “orgiastic” is an apt description of those last glorious, frenzied pages.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

THE FLOWERS OF EVIL, VOL. 2 | BY SHUZO OSHIMI | VERTICAL, INC. | 168 pp.

Pick of the Week: Summit of the Gods & more

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KATE: I only have eyes for one book this week: the long-awaited third volume of Summit of the Gods. This manliest of manga focuses on two Japanese climbers’ efforts to find out what happened to doomed explorer George Mallory, who disappeared during a 1924 attempt to reach the top of Mt. Everest. As one might expect of a series illustrated by Jiro Taniguchi, the artwork is superb; if you’ve ever wondered what it might be like to navigate a glacier or dangle from a rope above a yawning chasm, Taniguchi’s drawings will transport you to the Himalayas with the same vertigo-inducing accuracy as an IMAX film.

MICHELLE: I, too, am happy to see volume three of Summit of the Gods appear at long last, but I’ll throw a bit of love toward Alice in the Country of Clover: Chehsire Cat Waltz. Okay, true, the Bloody Twins Clover installment was nowhere near as good as the original Country of Hearts series, including as it did a variety of “what-if” scenarios pairing Alice up with various guys from the video game, but it seems as if Cheshire Cat focuses on her relationship with one guy. Maybe I’m wrong and it’ll disappoint again, but you can be sure I’ll be checking it out.

SEAN: Yeah, I’ll go with Cheshire Cat Waltz as well. It’s still more ‘romance’ oriented than the first series, but does at least make the effort to show that Alice is in a strange land filled with dangerous psychopaths who change moods at the drop of a hat. I hope they go a bit further into her reasons for being there – briefly hinted in the first manga’s ending – but in the meantime, I am content to see her wandering around with the hot guys as long as it keeps up the frisson of discomfort that makes it intriguing.

BRIGID: Summit of the Gods sounds pretty tasty, but it’s 95 degrees and I’m in the last stages of San Diego prep frenzy, so I need something light and amusing. I thought the first volume of Animal Land was kind of strange but interesting in an oh-Japan kind of a way, so I’ll swing for volume 5 this week. Since it springs from the fevered brain of the creator of Zatch Bell, I know I won’t have to take it too seriously, and that’s good enough for me.

MJ: Aside from Summit of the Gods, this week is pretty light for me, so as I’m weighing in last, I’ll to head over to NETCOMICS and recommend their Totally BL bundle, available through the end of the month. While NETCOMICS’ limited-time rental model is looking less and less attractive these days, next to other publishers’ iPad apps and other ownership-based digital venues like JManga (even eManga offers a “Keep” option for their titles), there are a number of Korean titles from NETCOMICS that I must continue to recommend, especially for BL fans. One of these is Hajin Yoo’s Totally Captivated, included in the NETCOMICS bundle along with the super-addictive Let Dai. If you’ve never given Korean BL a chance, this is the time to do so.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?