Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

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?

Bookshelf Briefs 7/9/12

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This week, Kate, Michelle, and Sean look at recent releases from VIZ Media and Vertical, Inc.

Case Closed, Vol. 43 | By Gosho Aoyama | VIZ Media – In the latest volume of Case Closed, Conan and the gang solve three mysteries: one involving a lost cell phone, another involving a toy company president, and yet another featuring a bomb-wielding maniac. The stories are a little hit-or-miss, relying heavily on surprise twists that few readers will be able to anticipate from the available clues. Of the three, “One Demon Among 53,000” is the best, a crisply executed beat-the-clock thriller in which Conan must find a terrorist who’s threatening to blow up Koshien Stadium during the national baseball championships. Smart pacing and effective jump cuts convey the urgency of the situation, making it all the more frustrating that volume 43 ends without resolving this promising storyline. Guess I’m on the hook for 44! – Katherine Dacey

Dawn of the Arcana, Vol. 4 | By Rei Toma | Published by VIZ Media – While this volume doesn’t play up my favorite aspect of Dawn of the Arcana—Nakaba’s inner struggle between her loyalty to her protector, Loki, and her burgeoning feelings for her new husband, Caesar—as much as I would like, it’s still quite an important volume. Nakaba’s influence on Caesar continues to be profound, and when he learns that his father is planning an attack on a village of Loki’s people, he sets out to foil the plan. Meanwhile, Nakaba begins to explore her powers of foresight and starts to think she may be able to use it to help people, only she can’t tell Caesar because the king would execute her if he were to catch wind of her ability. She’s shaping up to be a strong and capable heroine, and I look forward to seeing where the story goes from here! – Michelle Smith

The Drops of God, Vol. 4 | By Tadashi Agi and Shu Okimoto | Vertical, Inc. – The moment that Shizuku won the battle for the first Apostle, I was ready for the second battle to be Issei’s. He has to be a formidable foe, after all. To that end, he gets the bulk of the character development here, going to the Tibetan desert in order to find the perfect inspiration and also to acquire another love interest (in a sequence which is both heartwarming and laughable in its cliche). Shizuku, meanwhile, seems the odd one out this time – in a volume that is filled with lovers reconnecting and familial bonds, he can’t even understand why Miyabi seems so grumpy when he notes they’re just colleagues. No surprise, then, that he ends the volume with need of some serious soul-searching. Hopefully he’s found it by the next omnibus, which jumps ahead about a dozen or so volumes. –Sean Gaffney

Kamisama Kiss, Vol. 8 | By Julietta Suzuki | VIZ Media – The kami conference wraps up quickly here, and I liked that they did show Kayako again just to have a bit of closure. The bulk of the volume, however, deals with Kurama and his tengu family, as Nanami and Tomoe get involved in a tortuous succession battle. There are sprinklings of the main romance here and there, but for the most part this volume works like many of the previous ones – a new character meets Nanami and takes an instant dislike to her, only to eventually fall for her on account of her gumption, stick-to-it-ive-ness, and general main character syndrome. I don’t expect Jiro to be any different, especially as he’s already noting the differences between men and women. Provided you haven’t grown weary of everything revolving around how swell Nanami is (she needs more obvious flaws), this series still entertains. –Sean Gaffney

La Corda D’Oro, Vol. 16 | By Yuki Kure | VIZ Media – This dating-sim-cum-manga would be a true guilty pleasure if Kahoko, the heroine, wasn’t such a dithering idiot. Alas, her doormat behavior and lack of focus make her an unlikely candidate for classical music greatness, as she spends more time mooning over cute guys than she does practicing her etudes. In volume sixteen, for example, she nearly flops in competition because she’s become utterly preoccupied with aloof but handsome violinist Len. Len’s big revelation — and the fallout from it — could have been handled in five or ten pages, but Yuki Kure milks it for nearly three chapters, treating us to repeated scenes of Kahoko blushing, stammering, and playing sour notes as she frets about Len. Worse still, these scenes feel like they’ve been pilfered from earlier chapters; even the characters seem bored with their lines, sleep-walking through an all-too-familiar tournament scenario. Wake me up when the backstage backstabbing resumes! – Katherine Dacey

Natsume’s Book of Friends, Vol. 12 | By Yuki Midorikawa | VIZ Media – For the most part, this manga is content to be a series of short one-shots and two-parters dealing with the yokai world, and the new yokai Natsume has to deal with. We have seen him slowly starting to open up, however, and the three-parter here shows how it’s affecting both him and Tanuma. This is the classic ‘if I’m not close to them, they won’t be in danger’ hero dilemma for Natsume, but we not only see Tanuma’s side – wanting to help but feeling completely inadequate about it – but also Nitori’s, who it is implied made his choice earlier in life and is trying to ensure Natsume does not duplicate it. There’s a lot more action here as well, as if the increase in emotions lends itself to a faster, more frantic pace. Loneliness has plagued Natsume’s life as it did his grandmothers. Can he stop the cycle? Addicting. –Sean Gaffney

Oresama Teacher, Vol. 9 | By Izumi Tsubaki | VIZ Media – It’s great to see Tsubaki’s abilities improve with each volume. In particular, the focus issue she’s always had is almost entirely absent here, mostly due to the fact that there’s only one real plot here – the attempt to crush Okegawa. It’s his story more than Mafuyu’s here, which is why he takes her out right before the final battle – and also why he is seemingly finally allowed to see through her disguise. Okegawa is fantastic here, as we see that being a bancho is not just about thugging it up, but almost a military calling – planning the battle, caring for your subordinates. And loving a good fight as well, of course. Lest you think that this is a serious volume, however, fear not – the author can’t go three pages without sticking in something hilarious, with this particular volume ending in what amounts to a giant pie fight. I still like this series better than most. Listen to me, though, as I’m the correct one. –Sean Gaffney

Ouran High School Host Club, Vol. 18 | By Bisco Hatori | Published by VIZ Media – I read the first volume of Ouran back in June 2006, so getting to this final volume has been a six-year journey. Staying true to itself to the end, the conclusion is simultaneously so silly it’s positively ridiculous and so sunny that it’s pretty endearing. I’d say this is a satisfying ending for the most part, though the special side story, about Kyoya’s ambition and his thoroughly Slytherin family, was really kind of dull. I wanted more Tamaki and Haruhi cuteness! Throughout the volume, Hatori includes illustrations and sidebars about the futures of various characters, and some of those are adorable, and we also get one final cameo by Mori’s chicken! I can’t adequately express how much I love that durn chicken. Not without flaws, but still recommended. – Michelle Smith

Toriko, Vols. 10-11 | By Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro | VIZ Media – The latest installments of Toriko illustrate what’s bad — and good — about this goofy series. Whenever the story’s focus shifts from food to fighting — as it does in volume ten — Toriko becomes a dreary slog, filled with ugly characters engaged in sadistically violent combat. Making these battle scenes even more tedious is the dialogue, as bad guys pause to outline their plans, or explain the source of their power, thus providing Toriko an opportunity to gain the upper hand. When the story focuses on food and friendship, however, it’s a cheerful, if occasionally stomach-churning, parody of Iron Chef, as Toriko and his sidekick Komatsu scour the globe in search of rare ingredients. For my taste, there’s too much combat and not enough cuisine in Toriko; even the reappearance of master chef Setsuno, one of the series’ most memorable characters, wasn’t enough to erase the memory of volume ten’s endless wrangling. – Katherine Dacey

Jiu Jiu, Vol. 1

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My childhood bookshelves were filled with stories about wolves and the girls who loved them, so Jiu Jiu sounded like pure Kate Bait. Not only did Jiu Jiu feature wolves — two, to be exact — it also featured the kind of angry, conflicted heroine familiar to me from years of reading books like Sasha, My Friend. As an added bonus, Takamichi, the heroine, wasn’t just a frustrated teen adjusting to a new school and new classmates; she was a demon hunter who dispatched ghouls with the chilly efficiency of a robot, aided by Snow and Night.

But oh, the execution! Jiu Jiu is a riotously busy manga, with layouts that look more like a junior high school student’s scrapbook than a conscious ordering of panels. Author Touya Tobina draws cute wolf pups, but her command of human anatomy is poor; her characters’ rubbery limbs barely seem anchored to their torsos, resulting in odd pretzel configurations whenever they embrace or fight. Her use of screentone and pattern is similarly problematic: though the dark palette helps dramatize Takamichi’s inner turmoil, it also obscures many nicely observed moments, seldom allowing those images to stand alone, unadorned, for the reader to contemplate.

The other problem is the ever-present threat of romance. Snow and Night aren’t ordinary wolves; they’re shape-shifters who transform into handsome teenage boys. As much as they view Takamichi as their mother and mistress, there’s a strong whiff of eroticism in their interactions with her. Takamichi, of course, doesn’t yet perceive her pups’ romantic designs on her, though it doesn’t take a great leap of imagination to see that living with two attractive wolf-men might  invite emotional and physical entanglements beyond the occasional game of fetch. By placing so much emphasis on Snow and Night’s hotness, however, author Tobina seems to be laying the foundation for a much less interesting story, one in which the heroine must chose between two cute guys, rather than forge her own destiny.

Where Jiu Jiu redeems itself is in the individual characterizations. Takamichi, for example, reminded me a lot of how I was at sixteen: moody, isolated, and eager to mask my insecurities with belligerence and swagger. Her hot-and-cold relationship with Snow and Night also rings with truth, as she vacillates between nurturing them and sternly rejecting them, re-enacting her fraught relationship with her father in the process. Snow and Night, too, are a marked improvement on the standard-issue shojo prince. Yes, one is blonde and outgoing while the other is bespectacled and introspective, but both characters’ personalities betray their canine DNA; who but a dog would think a frisbee was the ideal birthday present for a human?

For all the skill with which these characters are realized, however, Jiu Jiu still frustrates more than it entertains. The author’s visually frenzied layouts and frequent recourse to emotional manipulation make volume one a bumpy ride, with too many unwarranted shifts between comedy and heart-tugging drama. (Does anything say “emotional manipulation” quite like the sight of a whimpering puppy?) I’m still clinging to the hope that Jiu Jiu will improve in future chapters, if for no other reason that I haven’t outgrown my love of stories about tough girls who run with wolves.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media LLC.

JIU JIU, VOL. 1 • BY TOUYA TOBINA • VIZ MEDIA • 200 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Short Takes: Olympos and Utahime: The Songstress

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When I first spotted the cover for Olympos, I had a nagging feeling I’d read something else by Aki, but couldn’t remember the title. A quick surf of the internet and presto! I had my answer: Aki also wrote Utahime: The Songstress, which DMP released in 2009 to strong reviews. In preparation for reading Olympos, I tracked down a new copy of Utahime. I had a vague notion of reviewing both books, then decided that the two-books-one-author concept would make a swell basis for a Short Takes column.

Which title did I like better? The answer might surprise you.

OLYMPOS

BY AKI • YEN PRESS • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Have you ever spotted a stunningly attractive person at a party, only to discover that he or she was a crashing bore? (Or worse, a boor?) If so, you may experience a few pangs of deja-vu while reading Olympos, a beautiful manga with a shapeless script.

Early in the story, the Sun God Apollo kidnaps Heinz, a human whose dearest wish is to marry his childhood sweetheart. Apollo offers Heinz a chance to perform a task in exchange for Maria’s hand — a task far more difficult than it initially seems. That sounds like a decent starting point for a cat-and-mouse game between Apollo and a plucky mortal, but Heinz soon disappears from the narrative altogether, creating a vacuum that’s never satisfactorily filled. Other figures from Greek mythology wander in and out of the story — Zeus, Poseidon, Artemis, and Hades all pop by for a cup of coffee and a little prophecy — but the endless stream of chatter grows tiresome.

That’s a pity, because Aki’s sensual linework is ideally suited to the material. Olympos is one of the few graphic novels in which the gods are so physically perfect, so pansexual in their appeal, that one can imagine why the gods bristled at the suggestion that any mortal might surpass them in beauty. Consider Hades, god of the underworld: Aki renders him as lithe man with goat horns, cloven feet, and a long mane of hair. For all his animal parts, however, Hades is undeniably attractive, moving with the grace of a Bolshoi dancer and meeting the other characters’ gazes with eyes that are both terrifying and alluring. The other gods are executed with similar care; even Poseidon, who’s portrayed as a bearded buffoon, has a handsome, agreeable face.

Some readers may find these drawings so appealing that the aimless script won’t spoil their enjoyment of Olympos. Others may find — as I did — that no amount of sensual imagery can hold their interest while the gods hold forth on the meaninglessness of their existence.

Review copy provided by Yen Press.

UTAHIME: THE SONGSTRESS

BY AKI • DIGITAL MANGA PUBLISHING • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Is gender destiny? That’s the question at the heart of Utahime: The Songstress, which takes place in a kingdom in which utahime, or “song princesses,” preserve the fragile peace through the power of their singing.

The story focuses on a trio of characters: fraternal twins Kain and Maria, whose mother is an utahime, and Thomas, whose father is the head of the nearby village. Kain, Maria, and Thomas’ relationship is shown at several stages, beginning with Kain’s return from a self-imposed exile of ten years. We then jump back in time to explore the characters’ childhoods, watching them come to terms with the ugly truth about Kain and Maria’s mother: she’s a virtual prisoner, jealously guarded by the local townspeople to ensure that their village remains safe and prosperous.

If you can soldier through the first few pages — which, I grant, are a mess — you’ll find an intimate story that focuses as much on the characters’ interior states as their actions. Aki allows her characters room for growth and reflection; though Kain and Thomas have a predictably antagonistic relationship as children, their shared concern for Maria overrides that hostility in adulthood. Aki also makes good use of her setting to explore the relationship between gender and destiny; if only women are allowed to be songstresses, what happens when a young man is born with the requisite voice?

If the artwork isn’t as lush as Olympos‘, it nonetheless makes a strong impression. Aki devotes the most attention to character designs, giving each cast member a distinctive appearance and an elastic, expressive face capable of registering subtle shifts in mood and energy. Her backgrounds, by contrast, are very sparse, making use of an occasional prop to establish the setting: a table and a few rickety chairs for a saloon, a high window and a iron frame bed for the utahime’s home.

That artistic restraint serves her story well, firmly establishing the characters’ emotional states without excessive reliance on dialogue and thought balloons. As a result, Utahime‘s script is leaner and more focused than Olympos‘, gently but insistently leading the reader through a series of effective (and affecting) scenes that help us appreciate the utahime’s plight. Recommended.

Drifting Net Cafe, Vol. 1

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It takes nerve — nay, stones — to update Kazuo Umezu’s bat-shit classic The Drifting Classroom. That’s exactly what Shuzo Oshimi (The Flowers of Evil) has done in Drifting Net Cafe, however, substituting a nebbishy salaryman for Sho, the original series’ twelve-year-old protagonist, and an Internet cafe for Sho’s school. The results are a decidedly mixed bag, suggesting that some texts lend themselves to revision, while others are too much the product of particular author’s imagination to warrant re-telling.

As in the original series, the story begins with a snapshot of the hero’s daily life: 29-year-old Toki has an argument with his pregnant wife, Yukie, then goes to an office job he dislikes. On impulse, he stops in an Internet cafe on his way home from work, where he bumps into Tohno, a girl he loved in middle school. The two begin comparing notes on their current lives when an earthquake plunges the building into darkness. When no one arrives to lead Toki, Tohno, and their fellow customers to safety, the group makes a terrifying discovery: the cafe has been transported from Tokyo to a wasteland from which all evidence of human civilization — roads, buildings, people — has been expunged.

To his credit, Oshimi takes enough time to establish Toki’s routine and personality for the reader to appreciate what’s at stake if Toki doesn’t find a way to return to his old life. None of the other characters, however, are fleshed out to the same degree. Yukie is portrayed as a howling grotesque, at the mercy of her hormones; Tohno is saintly and brave; and the other cafe customers are assigned one or two defining traits, depending on their gender and age. Thin characterizations are a common problem in disaster stories; authors are often reluctant to bestow too much humanity on characters who are destined to become monster food or cannon fodder, lest the audience find the story too dispiriting. Oshimi, however, takes that indifference to an extreme, creating a supporting cast of repellant, one-note characters whose comeuppance elicit cheers, not tears.

The other great drawback to Drifting Net Cafe is Oshimi’s lack of imagination. Though Oshimi is a competent draftsman, he shows little of Umezu’s flair for nightmarish imagery. Consider the way Oshimi renders the cafe’s final destination:

The wasteland, as imagined by Shuzo Oshimi in Drifting Net Cafe.

It’s not a badly composed image; Oshimi makes effective use of the tilted camera angle to convey the characters’ disorientation, and uses a few charred trees to suggest that something powerful scoured the landscape clean. When contrasted with the original version, however, it’s clear that Oshimi’s image elicits a much tidier, less emotional response than the repulsive, molten moonscape that Sho and his teachers discover just beyond the school gates:

Umezu’s vision of the wasteland, from The Drifting Classroom.

Oshimi’s monsters, too, betray his tendency to favor blandly polished imagery over inspired, if crudely rendered, boogeymen. Late in volume one of Drifting Net Cafe, for example, a creature resembling a typical Star Trek parasite attacks a female character, latching onto her thigh. It’s a memorable scene, tapping a similar vein of body-violation horror as Alien and Prometheus, but the monster’s quick defeat makes it seem more like a pretext for fanservice than a genuine menace. Umezu’s monsters, by contrast, take a variety of forms — giant insects and lizards, creepy aliens with bulbous foreheads, giant metallic serpents with grasping hands — all of which seem like the products of a feverish child’s imagination, rather than something copied from a TV show or straight-to-DVD movie.

The characters’ conflicts, too, seem smaller and less compelling than they did in Umezu’s original, which pitted Sho and his classmates against their teachers. The Drifting Classroom‘s adults quickly become deranged with grief and fear, leaving the children to fend for themselves in a hostile environment. Sho and his classmates spend several agonizing chapters struggling to accept the fact that none of the adults are in charge anymore; the students’ first attempts to defend themselves against crazed teachers and giant bugs end in catastrophe, a gruesome reminder of their misplaced trust in the adults.

In Oshimi’s version, however, all the characters are adults. They challenge one another’s leadership, squabble over resources, and indulge their worst impulses, sexual and otherwise. Though some of these scenes pack a visceral punch, most simply reinforce the idea that Toki and Tohno are the only decent folk among a group of unpleasant, self-interested urbanites — not exactly the stuff of high-stakes drama, even if one character finds himself on the business end of a pocket knife.

Where Drifting Net Cafe improves on the source material is pacing. The Drifting Classroom unfolds at a furious clip; characters are maimed or menaced in every chapter, and speak at decibel levels better suited for the Bonnaroo Music Festival than everyday conversation. Oshimi, on the other hand, varies the narrative tempo of Drifting Net Cafe: some chapters are packed with important revelations and dramatic confrontations, while others are more leisurely. These quieter chapters are among the most unnerving, however, as we watch the characters size up each others’ weaknesses, like sharks circling a wounded seal.

Though conceived as a tribute to The Drifting Classroom, Oshimi’s work is more likely to appeal to readers who haven’t read the original, or who find Umezu’s distinctive artwork dated and ugly. Long-time fans of Classroom are likely to find Oshimi’s update slick but soulless, as it relies more heavily on low-budget disaster movies than the original source material for its characters and conflicts.

DRIFTING NET CAFE, VOL. 1 • BY SHUZO OSHIMI • JMANGA • 251 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

Drifting Net Cafe, Vol. 1

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It takes nerve — nay, stones — to update Kazuo Umezu’s bat-shit classic The Drifting Classroom. That’s exactly what Shuzo Oshimi (The Flowers of Evil) has done in Drifting Net Cafe, however, substituting a nebbishy salaryman for Sho, the original series’ twelve-year-old protagonist, and an Internet cafe for Sho’s school. The results are a decidedly mixed bag, suggesting that some texts lend themselves to revision, while others are too much the product of particular author’s imagination to warrant re-telling.

As in the original series, the story begins with a snapshot of the hero’s daily life: 29-year-old Toki has an argument with his pregnant wife, Yukie, then goes to an office job he dislikes. On impulse, he stops in an Internet cafe on his way home from work, where he bumps into Tohno, a girl he loved in middle school. The two begin comparing notes on their current lives when an earthquake plunges the building into darkness. When no one arrives to lead Toki, Tohno, and their fellow customers to safety, the group makes a terrifying discovery: the cafe has been transported from Tokyo to a wasteland from which all evidence of human civilization — roads, buildings, people — has been expunged.

To his credit, Oshimi takes enough time to establish Toki’s routine and personality for the reader to appreciate what’s at stake if Toki doesn’t find a way to return to his old life. None of the other characters, however, are fleshed out to the same degree. Yukie is portrayed as a howling grotesque, at the mercy of her hormones; Tohno is saintly and brave; and the other cafe customers are assigned one or two defining traits, depending on their gender and age. Thin characterizations are a common problem in disaster stories; authors are often reluctant to bestow too much humanity on characters who are destined to become monster food or cannon fodder, lest the audience find the story too dispiriting. Oshimi, however, takes that indifference to an extreme, creating a supporting cast of repellant, one-note characters whose comeuppance elicit cheers, not tears.

The other great drawback to Drifting Net Cafe is Oshimi’s lack of imagination. Though Oshimi is a competent draftsman, he shows little of Umezu’s flair for nightmarish imagery. Consider the way Oshimi renders the cafe’s final destination:

The wasteland, as imagined by Shuzo Oshimi in Drifting Net Cafe.

It’s not a badly composed image; Oshimi makes effective use of the tilted camera angle to convey the characters’ disorientation, and uses a few charred trees to suggest that something powerful scoured the landscape clean. When contrasted with the original version, however, it’s clear that Oshimi’s image elicits a much tidier, less emotional response than the repulsive, molten moonscape that Sho and his teachers discover just beyond the school gates:

Umezu’s vision of the wasteland, from The Drifting Classroom.

Oshimi’s monsters, too, betray his tendency to favor blandly polished imagery over inspired, if crudely rendered, boogeymen. Late in volume one of Drifting Net Cafe, for example, a creature resembling a typical Star Trek parasite attacks a female character, latching onto her thigh. It’s a memorable scene, tapping a similar vein of body-violation horror as Alien and Prometheus, but the monster’s quick defeat makes it seem more like a pretext for fanservice than a genuine menace. Umezu’s monsters, by contrast, take a variety of forms — giant insects and lizards, creepy aliens with bulbous foreheads, giant metallic serpents with grasping hands — all of which seem like the products of a feverish child’s imagination, rather than something copied from a TV show or straight-to-DVD movie.

The characters’ conflicts, too, seem smaller and less compelling than they did in Umezu’s original, which pitted Sho and his classmates against their teachers. The Drifting Classroom‘s adults quickly become deranged with grief and fear, leaving the children to fend for themselves in a hostile environment. Sho and his classmates spend several agonizing chapters struggling to accept the fact that none of the adults are in charge anymore; the students’ first attempts to defend themselves against crazed teachers and giant bugs end in catastrophe, a gruesome reminder of their misplaced trust in the adults.

In Oshimi’s version, however, all the characters are adults. They challenge one another’s leadership, squabble over resources, and indulge their worst impulses, sexual and otherwise. Though some of these scenes pack a visceral punch, most simply reinforce the idea that Toki and Tohno are the only decent folk among a group of unpleasant, self-interested urbanites — not exactly the stuff of high-stakes drama, even if one character finds himself on the business end of a pocket knife.

Where Drifting Net Cafe improves on the source material is pacing. The Drifting Classroom unfolds at a furious clip; characters are maimed or menaced in every chapter, and speak at decibel levels better suited for the Bonnaroo Music Festival than everyday conversation. Oshimi, on the other hand, varies the narrative tempo of Drifting Net Cafe: some chapters are packed with important revelations and dramatic confrontations, while others are more leisurely. These quieter chapters are among the most unnerving, however, as we watch the characters size up each others’ weaknesses, like sharks circling a wounded seal.

Though conceived as a tribute to The Drifting Classroom, Oshimi’s work is more likely to appeal to readers who haven’t read the original, or who find Umezu’s distinctive artwork dated and ugly. Long-time fans of Classroom are likely to find Oshimi’s update slick but soulless, as it relies more heavily on low-budget disaster movies than the original source material for its characters and conflicts.

DRIFTING NET CAFE, VOL. 1 • BY SHUZO OSHIMI • JMANGA • 251 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

Pick of the Week: Abundance

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MJ: There’s quite a bit manga on its way to Midtown Comics this week, but despite the wide range of tasty-looking titles, making my pick is astonishingly easy. Natsume Ono’s House of Five Leaves is one of my very favorite titles currently running, and a new volume of that trumps nearly anything else the industry could put before me. I love this series’ idiosyncratic artwork, its passive protagonist, its ambiguous morality, and its meandering style. For me, this series is always a must-buy.

KATE: I second MJ’s recommendation; House of Five Leaves is my favorite Natsume Ono manga (it beats out Ristorante Paradiso by a whisker), and I never miss an opportunity to sing its praises. The other series on my mind this week is Alice in the Country of Hearts, which Yen Press rescued from licensing purgatory. I missed out on Alice when Tokyopop was publishing it, so I’m grateful for the opportunity to read it without bankrupting myself or resorting to scans. I’ve heard nothing but good things about this title’s shojolicious riff on Alice in Wonderland, so I go into the new two-in-one editions with high hopes.


MICHELLE: I’ll cast my vote for Yen Press’s license rescue of Alice in the Country of Hearts, which is hitting stores complete in three omnibus editions. Yes, I’ve read it already, but I had to rely on a somewhat dodgy translation for the final volume, so I’m looking forward to checking it out and seeing whether it makes any more sense (hopefully!) when handled by professionals!

SEAN: I know very little about Olympos other than that it’s a josei manga from Ichijinsha, and is apparently about Apollo and Ganymede. It’s always fascinating to see how Japan handles Western mythology, and the art for this series looks absolutely gorgeous. (The author also did Utahime, which DMP has.) It’s also nice to get a manga that’s complete in one, which this is, by virtue of it being an omnibus collecting both Japanese volumes. But I have to say, in a week which already features a lot of high-minded and worthy manga, Olympos simply looks *classy*. Looking forward to it.

BRIGID: Well, you guys grabbed the obvious choices, so let me chime in with a recommendation for a manga that is near the end of its run: Vol. 32 of Kekkaishi. I have only started reading this series, but what I have read I have liked a lot—it’s a shonen battle manga with a lot of personality. It has the usual ingredients—teenage boy with special powers, girl who is a childhood friend—but it also has some nice quirks (the main character longs to be a pastry chef) and the art is clear and easy to follow—even the fight scenes, which often lose me in shonen manga. It’s hard to jump in over 30 volumes into a series, but Viz has started issuing the earlier volumes as 3-in-1 omnibus editions, and the first 27 volumes are also available digitally. It’s a nice alternative if you’re just in the mood for some straight-up shonen manga.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Pick of the Week: Of Mice and Men

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KATE: I’d be the first to admit that Honey Darling is silly. The plot hinges on the kind of illogical behavior and improbable coincidences that a first-semester film student would know better than to include in his script. (The nadir is a scene in which one character runs into the street asking strangers where the nearest animal clinic is. Hasn’t he heard of directory assistance? Or Google, for that matter?) If you can look past the contrivances, however, what you’ll discover is a sweet story with a good heart and a good sense of humor, in which two impossibly handsome guys fall in love with each other. Fans of smutty manga may be disappointed, as all the heavy breathing takes place in the final chapter, but readers who like a more straightforward romance will find Honey Darling agreeable.

MJ: I must say, I’m with Kate this week. I’ll admit there haven’t been a lot of titles for me to love in SuBLime’s lineup so far, which is to say that they’ve simply been Not to My Taste. I have been won over by a couple of books, however, and they’ve been the ones I least expected to enjoy—first Oku-San’s Daily Fantasies and now Honey Darling. It is silly, just as Kate says, and there’s nothing truly remarkable in its fairly conventional BL premise, but it’s a lovely example of sweet, sincere romance that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Simply put, Honey Darling is a pleasure to read.

MICHELLE: I’m also aboard the BL bandwagon, but I’m once again recommending Kazuma Kadoka’s Kizuna, which is seeing the release of its sixth and I think final volume. Kizuna was actually released in English before, by long-defunct CPM, but that publisher never got around to publishing the last volume. Though DMP repackaged the first ten, already-released volumes in two-in-one omnibus editions, they’ve left this final one as a standalone, meaning that all the folks who didn’t rebuy the series can just snap this one up! Pretty considerate, actually! Anyway, this BL story (with plenty of yakuza) has been a pleasure to read and I look forward to seeing how it all ends.

SEAN: Honestly, there’s nothing this week that screams Pick of the Week for me. So I will move away from manga and go with the 3rd collection of Floyd Gottfredson’s comic strips, Walt Disney’s Mickey Mouse Vol. 3: High Noon at Inferno Gulch. These volumes have been a revelation, showing a generation who had only seen the dull, squeaky clean corporate Mickey exactly why he was the darling of the 1930s. Pure rollicking high-adventure, they’re also filled with background material and essays by cartoon scholars such as editor David Gerstein. A must for any cartoon fan collection.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs 6/10/12

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This week, MJ, Sean, Kate, and Michelle look at recent releases from VIZ Media and JManga.

Bakuman, Vol. 11 | By Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata | VIZ Media – I’ve always considered Bakuman to be a manga made up of pretty much equal parts “awesome” and “maddening,” and if that’s a decent description of the series as a whole, it’s especially applicable to volume eleven. In the category of “maddening,” we have the usual tiresome offenses against feminism—specifically the further domestication of Kaya, Takagi’s spunky but unambitious young wife, and the over-the-top vilification of Aiko Akina, the talented young writer who was first introduced as a girl too smart to be attractive to men. In the “awesome” column, on the other hand, is basically everything else, especially ongoing rivalry between our heroes and Eiji Nizuma and the artistry it elicits from both sides. By the end of the volume, even Akina is finally beginning to be portrayed as a worthwhile rival instead of the jealous harpy she’s been painted as all along. Overall, I’d probably call it a win. YMMV. – MJ

A Devil And Her Love Song, Vol. 3 | By Miyoshi Tomori | VIZ Media – It’s becoming pretty clear that we’re in for the long haul as regards Maria being bullied, and this volume seems to continue the pattern of her winning over the class one by one. That said, ‘winning over’ is not the same thing as it was with Tomoyo or our two male love interests. Maria has genuine problems interacting with others, and even if you admire her ability to tell folks the truth straight up, you have to acknowledge it. The maskless Maria in this volume goes up against another girl who is putting up a facade, and is just as intolerant of it. I enjoyed the author’s depiction of the crush Hana has on Yusuke – it’s all about the awkward and childish, with very little ‘we were meant to be from the start. Plus, of course, it helps keep the romantic triangle involving Maria alive. – Sean Gaffney

Fluffy, Fluffy Cinnamoroll, Vol. 4 | Story & Art by Yumi Tsukirino, Original Concept by Chisato Seki | VIZ Media – I feel like a grinch for not succumbing to the charms of this Sanrio series, but Fluffy, Fluffy Cinnamoroll has all the warmth of a Transformers comic: it’s a slick, synthetic story in which the real aim is selling products, not creating memorable characters or representing real emotions. The second half of volume four is particularly egregious, as it focuses on the “girl” puppies’ efforts to become pop idols and date celebrities. There’s no doubt that tween girls fantasize about being famous, but the the stories are so neatly resolved that only the least discerning ten-year-old will find them convincing. About the best I can say for volume four is that the first batch of stories — in which the entire gang gets into the crepe-making business — are moderately amusing, as Cinnamoroll’s forest-dwelling neighbors ask for unusual fillings; the raccoons and chickens are a good foil for the prissy, sweets-eating pups. The rest of volume four suffers from their absence. – Katherine Dacey

Gokudou Meshi, Vol. 2 | Shigeru Tsuchiyama | JManga – I was really looking forward to the second volume of Gokudou Meshi and it didn’t disappoint, but that’s because I knew what to expect: tales of simple fare told by a nearly indistinguishable cast of inmates sitting around their cell in a Japanese prison. The food featured in this volume includes instant ramen, katsudon, spaghetti, and even canned pineapple juice. We also see the storytelling tradition spread from the original room 204 to room 307, at which point it becomes apparent that there’s absolutely nothing to be gained in trying to keep track of the characters, because they are utterly unimportant. Gokudou Meshi has stripped away the things that are not essential (plot, characters…) and instead focuses solely on the food. It’s a formula that works for me, though, and one that’s not unaffecting—now I need to find a place in town with good katsudon! – Michelle Smith

Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan, Vol. 9 | By Hiroshi Hiibashi | VIZ Media – If you like shonen battles and you like yokai, there’s plenty to enjoy here. Rikuo trains in order to be able to face his newest enemies in Kyoto, and for those playing along ‘fear’ is apparently Nura’s version of ‘bankai’ or ‘haki’ or whatever you call a power-up in Jump. There’s new characters introduced, most of whom mistake Rikuo as a weakling before they learn better, and the villain marches through Kyoto curbstomping everyone and being arrogant. That said, I do sort of miss the initial plot of Nura trying to balance his human and yokai sides, which has gotten a bit lost amidst the battles. Now that his classmates are in danger (again) in Kyoto, perhaps we can get a bit more of a return to form. I’m not hopeful, though – the artist seems to love the yokai world far more than they do the human one.. – Sean Gaffney

The Story of Saiunkoku, Vol. 7 | Art by Kairi Yura, Story by Sai Yukino | VIZ Media – I’ve always really liked The Story of Saiunkoku, but this volume made me love it. While Shurei continues to persevere at court in the face of tremendous hardship (winning some admiration in the process), there is a lot of other really interesting stuff going on, including Koyu’s doubts about whether his guardian truly cares for him, Seiran’s promise to watch over Shurei until she can stand on her own, and the arrival of Shurei’s uncle with plans to recall her to the Hong clan’s “main house” someday. As if that weren’t enough, there’s an accusation of favoritism regarding Shurei’s test results, an arrest, a confinement, and a liberal sprinkling of Ryuki being awesome. Really, this volume has it all. I can’t imagine anyone waffling on the quality of this series, but if you did have doubts, volume seven will put them to rest! – Michelle Smith

Pick of the Week: Ouran, Devil, GTO

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MICHELLE: Ordinarily next week would be one of those impossible-to-choose weeks for me, featuring as it does series like Bakuman, Slam Dunk, Kimi ni Todoke, and Dawn of the Arcana, all of which are terrific. However, they’re all also still being released in English, which means I have plenty of time to recommend them in future. The same cannot be said for Ouran High School Host Club, which reaches its eighteenth and final volume at long last. I’ve followed this series for six years, throughout various ups and downs—I loved some of it, I liked some of it, and I grew frustrated by some of it—but I am really looking forward to its conclusion. I hope it’s as satisfying as it has the potential to be!

SEAN: What Michelle said. Ouran 18 for me as well. (Hey, sometimes even I have little to say.)

KATE: I’ve never been an Ouran gal, so my pick goes to another Shojo Beat title: volume three of A Devil and Her Love Song. I thought the first two volumes showed promise, but felt that the author sometimes didn’t quite know what to do with her prickly, truth-telling heroine. In the third volume, however, the story really clicks: the characters are fully realized, and the storyline begins moving more briskly. Though there are some melodramatic flourishes, A Devil and Her Love Song remains squarely focused on real teenage concerns: fitting in, staying true to one’s beliefs, and rejecting phoniness in all guises. Surely Holden Caulfield would approve.

MJ: While there are quite a few favorites of mine on the list this week, I’ll give my vote to volume three of GTO: 14 Days in Shonan. From my write-up at Off the Shelf: “What I found pretty spectacular about 14 Days in Shonan, is that it features a main character who spends a lot of time telling other people just how much of a badass he is, while actually being a badass … I enjoyed these volumes so much more than I expected, I find myself wishing I had some kind of award to give out for it, or something. It’s been a while since my expectations were so neatly trounced.” I realize that simply repeating myself is a lazy way to make my pick, but really, that gets to the crux of it. I (very unexpectedly) loved the first two volumes of this manga, and I can’t wait to read more!

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs 6/4/12

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This week, Michelle, Kate, and Sean look at recent releases from Viz Media, Yen Press, and Sweatdrop Studios.

Ai Ore!, Vol. 5 | By Mayu Shinjo | Viz Media – Ai Ore! in its fifth volume is pretty different than its first. Almost entirely gone is Akira’s manipulative/disturbing behavior (though he’s still fixated on making Mizuki “his”), which is definitely a good thing, and the series has settled into a fairly generic romantic comedy groove. Unfortunately, it seems like Mayu Shinjo may already be out of ideas, since we’re treated to yet another “Mizuki thinks Akira has secretly been gay all this time” bout of melodrama. I continued to be disappointed that Mizuki, who occasionally looks ravishingly boyish, is not a cooler and stronger character, but it’s pretty much a lost cause at this point. Still, even though I stop short of calling Ai Ore! good, it is compulsively readable, and I see myself finishing out the series, though I’m not looking forward to the beachy hijinks advertised for the next volume. – Michelle Smith

Bamboo Blade, Vol. 13 | By Masahiro Totsuka and Aguri Igarashi | Yen Press – There’s some big surprises here, though many of them were signposted earlier. TV Savant Erina is not who she appears to be, and it’s her backstory and growth that is the focus of this volume. The reason that it’s her, by the way, is that Tama loses – genuinely and honestly. This is exactly what her coach has wanted all along, and now we get to see what she will gain from it. Tama has always sort of done kendo as it’s expected of her. Now she sees true kendo passion – both from Erina and from Ura Sakaki, whose delusions of sentai are finally thrashed out of her in one of the most awesome sports battles I’ve seen in a long time. So we’ve one volume to go, and I’ve no doubt that volume will have Tamaki finally seeking the real reason she fights kendo matches. Highly recommended. –Sean Gaffney

Oresama Teacher, Vol. 8 | By Izumi Tsubaki | Viz Media – I sense that Tsubaki-san was told be her editors at Hana to Yume around this point in the manga that the series was a success, and in no danger of ending soon, so it was time to break out the new characters and plot complications. There’s a sense of gearing up for the next big battle here. Unfortunately, as always, Tsubaki’s plotting always seems flaky and scattered. So we get a chapter giving a bit of depth to the main villain, then some background for Takaomi, then a whole passel of new minor villains (some even female – gasp!) are introduced, and then Mafuyu’s two suitors find out about her relationship with Takaomi. There’s some fun stuff here – I was, as always, laughing a lot throughout – but Tsubaki needs a stronger editor than the ones Hakusensha provides. –Sean Gaffney

Soul Eater, Vol. 9 | By Atsushi Ohkubo | Yen Press – Soul Eater is another title, like Oresama Teacher, that is finishing one plot and getting ready to gear up for another. It, however, handles this much better, with plot threads from Vol. 6 onwards just now starting to pay off. The focus here is on our three meisters, rather than their weapons, and I was impressed with how the manga handled Black*Star, everyone’s favorite insufferable talented jerk. We get a lesson seemingly set up for teaching him humility and learning to hold back for the sake of the others – then it turns out this is a fakeout, and that it’s Maka who has to learn not to hold her fellow student back. Finally, our team goes off on its next big battle, where they’re acting as backup for an increasingly unstable Doctor Stein – and they promptly disobey his orders and charge in to the rescue. Kids, sheesh. Good shonen fun. –Sean Gaffney

The Story of Saiunkoku, Vol. 7 | By Kaira Yura and Sai Yukino | Viz Media – The ongoing hazing and abuse of Shurei and Eigetsu sort of percolates along through this entire volume, driving many plots but not quite coming to a head – no doubt that will happen in the next volume. Instead, we get to see that ‘slow and steady wins the race’ seems to be the moral lesson for the entire cast – the villains always seem to overplay their hands by overdoing things and making fast, impetuous choices. Our heroes, meanwhile, are the picture of calm and serenity, even when they’re being arrested for favoritism or held captive so as not to testify at a trial. Of course, one can be *too* serene and unreadable – there’s a great story here about Koyu’s frustration with his lord, and being unable to tell the difference between not caring and not wanting to hold back. It’s all about the small, quiet moments here. –Sean Gaffney

Sun Fish Moon Fish | By Morag Lewis | Sweatdrop Studios – Set in the fictional kingdom of The Thousand Island Archipelago, Sun Fish Moon Fish tells the story of Anciarin, a court mage who’s falsely accused of murdering Archipelago’s royal family. The premise is certainly ripe with potential, but the execution is wanting; Morag Lewis’ character designs have a faintly unnatural quality to them, with enormous, wide-set eyes and perpetually surprised expressions. The dialogue, too, tacks between medieval formality and modern-day casualness, with one character demanding, “What’s your beef?” and another making reference to “teams,” as if he were a S.W.A.T. captain. If the art and dialogue are sometimes amateurish, Lewis shows considerable promise as a writer; Sun Fish Moon Fish is briskly paced and skillfully plotted, giving equal time to Anciarin and Iashar, the soldier tasked with bringing the mage to justice. An ambitious, though uneven, work. – Katherine Dacey

Pick of the Week: Genshiken, Wallflower, & more

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MJ: There’s not much to choose from at Midtown Comics this week, but making my pick is astonishingly easy, perhaps only because I came so late into the world of manga. The truth is, I’ve always wanted to read Genshiken, and this new omnibus release from Kodansha Comics has finally made it easy for me to actually conceive of doing so. I look forward to finally picking this series up!

SEAN: It’s a very slim week this week, so instead of highlighting something revolutionary or cutting-edge, I will go for one of my comfort manga again. The Wallflower will not win any points for originality—or indeed for resolving its plot—but it’s always so much fun, and I always enjoy seeing what wacky situations the cast will find themselves in this time. Everyone needs a manga that you just turn your brain off and read, and this is a good one. Plus Sunako kicks ass when she wants to.

KATE: Looking over the final shipping list of the month is like opening a half-empty refrigerator: there’s bound to be something worth trying, but it takes a little imagination to find it. This week, however, the manga offerings are just too meager, so I’m going to recommend the first Wonder Woman trade instead. For me, the big draw is the artwork: Cliff Chiang depicts WW not as a voluptuous pin-up, but as a tall, lean warrior who just happens to look a lot better in a strapless unitard than the rest of us mortals. I don’t have any difficulty imagining this WW kicking ass and taking names.

MICHELLE: It’s not on the Midtown list, but according to Amazon, volume three of GTO: 14 Days in Shonan is due out this Tuesday. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this tale of a former delinquent with a talent for getting through to troubled teens, but it turns out it’s a lot of fun. I enjoyed volume two more than the first, as a matter of fact, which certainly bodes well for this next installment!

Readers, what looks good to you this week?