Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

The 2011 Manga Hall of Shame Inductees

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With TOKYOPOP’s untimely demise this year, critics lost one of their most reliable sources of shame-worthy manga. Though I won’t miss reading J-Pop Idol, Dragon Sister, Innocent W, or Zone-00 — to name just a few of the D-list titles that TOKYOPOP foisted on fans — I will miss reviewing them, as they helped me develop my voice as a critic, challenging me to expand my litany of complaints beyond “boring,” “cliche,” and “awful.” Few of the titles on this year’s Hall of Shame list inspired the same level of creative vitriol that TOKYOPOP’s worst titles did, but they do share one important trait with Qwaser of Stigmata: no one will confuse them with such recent gems as A Bride’s Story, Stargazing Dog, or A Zoo in Winter.

So without further ado, I present the 2011 Manga Hall of Shame Inductees:

5. Amnesia Labyrinth
Written by Nagaru Tanigawa • Art by Natsumi Kohane • Seven Seas
For a manga that features incest, murder, and at least one character with a split personality, Amnesia Labyrinth is shockingly dull. That dullness can be attributed to two things: the source material and the hero. As writer Nagaru Tanigawa explains in the afterword to volume one, Amnesia Labyrinth was “based on a story that, while it didn’t have enough to become a full-fledged novel, had been kicking around in my head for years” — in short, a half-baked idea. Worse still, Souji, the lead character, is so passive it’s hard to believe that he’s an athletic superstar, academic genius, and a lady killer; if anything, he seems more like a collection of cool traits than an actual person. Teenage boys may find Souji an appealing surrogate, but older readers will find the series’ main draw — the mystery — too underdeveloped to be interesting, and the characterizations too thin to inspire identification with any of the cast members. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 2/8/11

4. High School of the Dead
By Daisuke Sato and Shouji Sato • Yen Press
This slick, violent zombie story plays like a poor man’s Dawn of the Dead, substituting sadism and sex for the social commentary of George Romero’s classic horror flick. Popular as it may be, a quick scan of volume one reveals myriad issues, from poorly staged fight scenes to tin-eared dialogue. The biggest problem with Highschool of the Dead, however, is the endless parade of panty shots and costume failures. The Satos work fanservice into as many scenes as possible, taking full advantage of every stairwell, fight, fall, and female death to expose cleavage — and poorly drawn cleavage, at that. (Hint to aspiring manga artists: large breasts do not resemble grossly distended lemons.) And when the scariest thing about a zombie story is the way the female characters’ bosoms are drawn, it’s safe to say that the creators ought to spend a little more time watching 28 Days or I Am Legend, and a little less time watching Naughty Naked Co-Eds. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 12/27/10

3. Gandhi: A Manga Biography
By Kazuki Ebine • Penguin Books
This slim volume reduces Gandhi’s life to a string of four-page vignettes that do little to reveal who he was or what he believed; important episodes in every stage of his career are drained of historical nuance, preventing the reader from fully appreciating the complexity of the political situations in South Africa or India. Adding insult to injury is the script: the dialogue abounds in awkward sentences, anachronistic sentiments, and cringe-worthy typos that consistently undercut the story’s serious message. (Makes you wonder: did anyone at Penguin Books actually proofread Gandhi?) More disappointing still is the artwork: it’s plain and lifeless, relying too heavily on computer shortcuts and pre-fab backgrounds to create a genuine sense of place or time. My suggestion: skip the manga and rent Richard Attenborough’s 1982 movie of the same name. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 10/6/11

2. The Beautiful Skies of Houhou High
By Arata Aki • DMP
In this unfunny comedy about sexual orientation, a gay teen’s mother enrolls her daughter in an all-boys’ boarding school — mom’s idea of a “cure” for lesbianism. A more skillful storyteller might use the set-up to critique homophobia, or the idea that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice, but Arata Aki takes the easy road, using Kei’s dilemma as a pretext for wacky hijinks. Though the theme of gender exploration is extended to include male cast members — several boys in Kei’s dorm exhibit stereotypically feminine behavior and interests — Aki doesn’t do anything particularly interesting with these supporting characters; their antics provide comic relief, not commentary on the fluidity of gender norms. Lame gags and confusing subplots remind the reader at every turn that Houou High isn’t concerned with real human sexuality, but in wringing cheap laughs out of a gay character’s humiliation. In a word: yuck. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 2/28/11

1. Tenjo Tenge
By Oh!Great • VIZ Media
Flipping through the first volume of VIZ’s “Full Contact” edition, it’s easy to see why DC Comics censored the original English print run of Tenjo Tenge. The story abounds in the kind of gratuitous nudity and sexual encounters that make an unadulterated version a tough sell at big chain stores like Wal-Mart and Barnes & Noble. DC Comics’ solution was an inelegant one: they re-wrote the script, drew bras and panties on naked girls, and cut some of the most offensive passages. As an advocate of free speech, I can’t condone the bowdlerization of any text, especially in the interest of a more commercially viable age-rating , but as a woman, it’s hard to celebrate the restoration of a graphic rape scene or images of naked girls throwing themselves at the heroes, especially when the plot is violent and silly. —Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 6/3/11

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So now I turn the floor over to you, readers: what titles made your Worst of 2011 list?

A tip for first-time visitors: you might want to read my Comment Policy before busting out words like “feminazi” in defense of a favorite title. Your comment is much less likely to be deleted if you’re friendly, funny, and logical, as those qualities facilitate dialogue.

Stargazing Dog

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Few things can reduce me to a puddle of tears as quickly as a dog story, especially if the canine subject is lost, abused, or sacrificed for the well-being of his owner. Yet for all my sentimentality, I am particular about my dog stories. Too often, authors allow extreme displays of loyalty or mischievousness to stand in for a thoughtful portrayal of the dog’s own personality; the author is so intent on showing the redemptive power of canine ownership that the ostensible subject of the book feels more like a walking metaphor than an actual presence in the narrative.

Takashi Murakami largely avoids this trap in Stargazing Dog by granting his canine protagonist a voice. In less capable hands, Happie’s narration might be precious or manipulative, prompting the reader to feel unearned sympathy for him. Murakami, however, finds just the right words for Happie, expressing his point of view with a simplicity and directness that seem appropriate for a dog.

Early in Stargazing Dog, Happie forms a strong attachment to a character identified only as “Daddy,” a father who gradually becomes estranged from his wife and teenage daughter. With the dissolution of his family, Daddy packs Happie and a few possessions in his car, and begins driving towards the sea. The outcome of their journey is never in doubt — we learn Happie and Daddy’s fate in the very opening pages of the book — yet Murakami draws the reader into the story with a nuanced depiction of the master-dog relationship.

Daddy and Happie take to the road.

Murakami has two fundamental insights into that dynamic. The first is routine: Happie’s devotion to Daddy stems from many hours of walking, sitting, and eating together. These rituals consume Happie’s thoughts until the very end of the story; Happie eagerly anticipates their daily walks, adapting to changes in Daddy’s schedule with heartbreaking alacrity. (“We used to go for a walk in the evening,” Happie observes. “These days, Daddy takes me out in the daytime.”)

The second is communication: though Happie and Daddy clearly share a special emotional connection, there’s a fundamental gap between them that can’t be bridged. Happie never fully grasps what’s happening to him and his master, perceiving the changes in their routine without understanding their cause. Daddy, for his part, never acknowledges the degree to which he views Happie as an extension of himself; as his circumstances deteriorate, he continues to rely on Happie for companionship, putting his own emotional needs before the dog’s.

Murakami never romanticizes Happie and Daddy’s relationship, though he honors the sincerity and warmth of their bond. The roughness of the art — the human characters’ clumsy hands and round heads, the crude use of perspective — further inoculates the story against mawkishness, while the exaggerated facial expressions and child-like rendering of space and objects echo the naivete of Happie’s narration. Only a few poorly chosen fonts and backwards signs mar the design, reminding the reader that the artwork has been flipped for English-speaking audiences.

Perhaps the best compliment I can pay Murakami is to acknowledge just how much Stargazing Dog moved me. Not in a cheap, dog-in-peril sort of way, but in the same way that Vittorio de Sica’s Umberto D. touched me: as a beautiful meditation on the human-canine bond, one that acknowledges the complexity and inequality of that relationship, as well its enduring power. One of 2011’s best new manga.

STARGAZING DOG • BY TAKASHI MURAKAMI • NBM/COMICSLIT • 128 pp. • NO RATING

Stargazing Dog

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Few things can reduce me to a puddle of tears as quickly as a dog story, especially if the canine subject is lost, abused, or sacrificed for the well-being of his owner. Yet for all my sentimentality, I am particular about my dog stories. Too often, authors allow extreme displays of loyalty or mischievousness to stand in for a thoughtful portrayal of the dog’s own personality; the author is so intent on showing the redemptive power of canine ownership that the ostensible subject of the book feels more like a walking metaphor than an actual presence in the narrative.

Takashi Murakami largely avoids this trap in Stargazing Dog by granting his canine protagonist a voice. In less capable hands, Happie’s narration might be precious or manipulative, prompting the reader to feel unearned sympathy for him. Murakami, however, finds just the right words for Happie, expressing his point of view with a simplicity and directness that seem appropriate for a dog.

Early in Stargazing Dog, Happie forms a strong attachment to a character identified only as “Daddy,” a father who gradually becomes estranged from his wife and teenage daughter. With the dissolution of his family, Daddy packs Happie and a few possessions in his car, and begins driving towards the sea. The outcome of their journey is never in doubt — we learn Happie and Daddy’s fate in the very opening pages of the book — yet Murakami draws the reader into the story with a nuanced depiction of the master-dog relationship.

Daddy and Happie take to the road.

Murakami has two fundamental insights into that dynamic. The first is routine: Happie’s devotion to Daddy stems from many hours of walking, sitting, and eating together. These rituals consume Happie’s thoughts until the very end of the story; Happie eagerly anticipates their daily walks, adapting to changes in Daddy’s schedule with heartbreaking alacrity. (“We used to go for a walk in the evening,” Happie observes. “These days, Daddy takes me out in the daytime.”)

The second is communication: though Happie and Daddy clearly share a special emotional connection, there’s a fundamental gap between them that can’t be bridged. Happie never fully grasps what’s happening to him and his master, perceiving the changes in their routine without understanding their cause. Daddy, for his part, never acknowledges the degree to which he views Happie as an extension of himself; as his circumstances deteriorate, he continues to rely on Happie for companionship, putting his own emotional needs before the dog’s.

Murakami never romanticizes Happie and Daddy’s relationship, though he honors the sincerity and warmth of their bond. The roughness of the art — the human characters’ clumsy hands and round heads, the crude use of perspective — further inoculates the story against mawkishness, while the exaggerated facial expressions and child-like rendering of space and objects echo the naivete of Happie’s narration. Only a few poorly chosen fonts and backwards signs mar the design, reminding the reader that the artwork has been flipped for English-speaking audiences.

Perhaps the best compliment I can pay Murakami is to acknowledge just how much Stargazing Dog moved me. Not in a cheap, dog-in-peril sort of way, but in the same way that Vittorio de Sica’s Umberto D. touched me: as a beautiful meditation on the human-canine bond, one that acknowledges the complexity and inequality of that relationship, as well its enduring power. One of 2011’s best new manga.

STARGAZING DOG • BY TAKASHI MURAKAMI • NBM/COMICSLIT • 128 pp. • NO RATING

Pick of the Week: Old & New

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There’s a small but substantial haul coming in to Midtown Comics this week. See what Kate, MJ, Sean, & Michelle are planning to pick up!

KATE: This week’s shipping list is short, but includes one of my favorite new series of 2011: The Drops of God. Drops is, in essence, shonen manga for the over-21 crowd. The plot revolves around a brash, arrogant young beer executive who inherits a rare wine collection from his father, a leading expert on viniculture. The catch? Shizuku can’t claim his inheritance until he correctly identifies and describes thirteen legendary wines that are mentioned in his father’s will. Helping him is a sommelier-in-training, Miyabi, and an assortment of oddball oenophiles, each with a strong opinion about how and when to drink wine. The series is pure edu-tainment, striking the perfect balance between Dynasty-style intrigue and Wine 101 lessons; even more experienced wine tasters will learn something from the characters’ ecstatic conversations about terroir and vintage.

MICHELLE: Yeah, though this list may be short there are definitely some goodies on there. I’m going to cast my vote for volume 27 of Fullmetal Alchemist despite the fact that I, as of this very moment, have not read beyond volume two in this reportedly epic series. The reason for my enthusiasm is that MJand I are planning to devote our final Off the Shelf column of the year to FMA, which means I am going to be eating, sleeping, and breathing the series for the next two weeks. Stay tuned, and don’t miss this long-awaited finale!

SEAN: Christmastime brings the fifth volume of my favorite Ikki license, Dorohedoro. There has been some talk of weak plotting, which may or may not be true, but I don’t really care if it is: this is a series that is less a manga than a WORLD, one you want to immerse yourself in despite the inherent dangers. And Caiman journeying to the Sorceror’s World promises to try to shake things up a bit. Though I hope he’s not separated from Nikaido too long – the banter and friendship between the two, as well as between Shin and Noi, is another highlight. Recommended for those who want an ‘alternative’ manga that makes you want to walk around in its setting, even if you’d die almost immediately.

MJ: It’s unusual for a slow week to present me with such a difficult decision, but I’ll admit I’m squirming over the prospect of having to choose. I think everybody here knows how much I love Fullmetal Alchemist, and it kind of kills me not to choose it. But since Michelle has already taken care of that, I probably should lend my support to the penultimate volume of xxxHolic, out this week from Del Rey. I know some readers have given up this series, but I am emphatically not one of those readers, and I’m very anxious to see where things go now that it’s so close to the end. So, you know I’ll be out there grabbing up the final volume of Fullmetal Alchemist, but I won’t be missing out on xxxHolic!

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

The Drops of God, Vols. 1-2

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Reading The Drops of God is like drinking a good table wine: the flavor may not be as complex as a finely aged varietal, but it goes down easily, leaving a pleasant aftertaste of melodrama, intrigue, and romance.

Like Oishinbo, the manga it most closely resembles, The Drops of God revolves around a slightly preposterous contest between a father and son. Kanazaki Yutaka, a revered wine critic, dies unexpectedly, leaving behind a will that’s a much a gauntlet as it is a set of instructions for his son: Shizuku will inherit Yutaka’s wine collection, but only if Shizuku can identify the thirteen different wines mentioned in his father’s will.

To complete his task, Shizuku must overcome several serious handicaps, not the least of which is his own lack of experience buying and drinking wine. (At the start of the series, Shizuku is a junior sales executive at a beer distributor, proudly eschewing wine for ale.) Adding special urgency to his quest is a rival, Tomine Issei, a handsome young wine critic who was adopted by Shizuku’s father. If Issei successfully names the “Twelve Apostles” and the “Drops of God” before Shizuku, Issei will inherit the entire collection….

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The Drops of God, Vols. 1-2

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Reading The Drops of God is like drinking a good table wine: the flavor may not be as complex as a finely aged varietal, but it goes down easily, leaving a pleasant aftertaste of melodrama, intrigue, and romance.

Like Oishinbo, the manga it most closely resembles, The Drops of God revolves around a slightly preposterous contest between a father and son. Kanazaki Yutaka, a revered wine critic, dies unexpectedly, leaving behind a will that’s a much a gauntlet as it is a set of instructions for his son: Shizuku will inherit Yutaka’s wine collection, but only if Shizuku can identify the thirteen different wines mentioned in his father’s will.

To complete his task, Shizuku must overcome several serious handicaps, not the least of which is his own lack of experience buying and drinking wine. (At the start of the series, Shizuku is a junior sales executive at a beer distributor, proudly eschewing wine for ale.) Adding special urgency to his quest is a rival, Tomine Issei, a handsome young wine critic who was adopted by Shizuku’s father. If Issei successfully names the “Twelve Apostles” and the “Drops of God” before Shizuku, Issei will inherit the entire collection.

No manga cliche goes unturned in the opening chapters. The brash Shizuku has never so much as drunk a glass of wine, but resolves to do his best to defeat Issei. Shizuku’s ability to win that contest is never really in doubt, however: from the very first pages of the story, Shizuku demonstrates a discerning palate, wowing oenophiles and greenhorns alike with his ability to recognize great wines. In his first showdown with Issei, for example, Shizuku correctly identifies the age, varietal, and origin of a wine even though his only exposure to that particular grape came from eating a handful of them as a child. (Top that, Robert Parker!)

Also disappointing is the portrayal of Shizuku’s partner-in-wine-tasting, Miyabi Shinohara, an aspiring sommelier. Though other characters praise Miyabi for her book knowledge of wine, she rarely has an opportunity to shine in her role as the expert on viniculture; Miyabi’s primary function is to recite each wine’s provenance in detail, allowing Shizuku the more entertaining role of waxing poetic about the wine’s flavor. Throughout volumes one and two, Shizuku frequently upstages Miyabi, even when Miyabi’s professional experience ought to afford her greater insight into an appropriate wine-food pairing, or lead her towards an inexpensive but sophisticated French import.

Yet for all the creaky plot mechanics and broad-brush characterizations, The Drops of God proves surprisingly fun, thanks to the author’s imaginative attempts to describe the flavor of particular wines. Early in volume one, for example, one character likens a a 2001 Chateau Mont-Perac to Freddie Mercury’s singing—an odd but inspired choice, as Mercury’s voice is one of the most distinctive rock-n-roll sounds of the last forty years, a piercing, operatic instrument that’s immediately recognizable, even to the untrained ear. The fact that the artist’s rendering of Mercury looks nothing like him is beside the point; the comparison alone is enough to instill in the reader a sense of how visceral and distinctive the Mont-Perac’s flavor is.

The other thing that prevents The Drops of God from sinking under the weight of hackneyed story elements are the supporting characters. Tadashi Agi (actually a pseudonym for the brother-sister writing team of Shin and Yuko Kibayashi) populates the story with mustache-twirling villains, oddball oenophiles, and opinionated co-workers, each of whom leaves a vivid impression. One of the most appealing is Chosuke Honma, a member of the Wine Division at Taiyo Beer. Though drawn in bold strokes, Chosuke seems like a real person — a wine enthusiast who firmly believes that Italy, not France, produces the world’s best wines, and who frequently bursts into song. (His tune of choice: “O sole mio,” of course!) Chosuke’s passion, temper, and obsession with Italian culture — not to mention his receding hairline — make him a great foil for the ridiculously perfect Shizuku, whose movie-star looks, charming personality, and superior ability to identify great wines make him more a fantasy figure than a real character.

Artistically, The Drops of God is a feast for the eyes. Shu Okimoto’s characters are beautifully rendered, making the numerous scenes of characters discussing wine something to savor, rather than something to be endured. Okimoto also does a terrific job of translating terroir into imagery, transporting the reader from Japan to Europe with crisp, evocative drawings of French vineyards; the reader can practically smell the soil and the ripening fruit. Most importantly, Okimoto finds creative ways to suggest the complexity of a good wine, using vivid imagery —  a field of sunflowers, a masquerade party — to suggest how the “nose” of a wine sparks strong associations with events, places, and people.

Long-time manga readers won’t be surprised to learn that The Drops of God is an entertaining way to learn about wine; as titles such as Oishinbo and Not Love But Delicious Foods Make Me So Happy! demonstrate, a skilled writer can fold a considerable amount of educational detail into a story without reducing it to a textbook. Manga newbies or readers looking for a good introduction to wine terminology will find Drops a revelation, however, as it imparts highly specialized information with the same natural ease that Law & Order illustrates the inner workings of a crime investigation, while at the same time functioning as a fun soap opera; even if the reader isn’t the least bit interested in wine, Shizuku’s quest for the “Drops of God” is an irresistible hook. Highly recommended.

THE DROPS OF GOD, VOLS. 1-2 • WRITTEN BY TADASHI AGI, ILLUSTRATED BY SHU OKIMOTO • VERTICAL, INC.

Pick of the Week: Balanced Diet

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We’ve got a hefty haul at Midtown Comics this week, ranging from classic staples to contemporary 4-koma. Check out the Battle Robot’s picks below!

MJ: Heavy shipping weeks like this are nearly as tough for me as the bleak ones. From such a bounty of manga, I hardly know what to choose. As a bit of a completist, though, I admit I’m drawn to big finishes, and we have a pretty spectacular one this week. I’m speaking, of course, of the final volume of Osamu Tezuka’s Black Jack, arriving at Midtown Comics this week from Vertical. Based on the Akita Deluxe Edition mapped out by Tezuka before his death, along with three additional stories in the hardcover special editions of the first three volumes, Vertical’s collection is one of the most comprehensive in any language to-date. Above all, though, Black Jack is just a really great comic, and it’s pretty thrilling to have so much of it available in English, produced with the kind of loving care that Vertical gives to all its licenses. This final volume also features an appendix at the back, containing the original publication dates of the stories contained in Vertical’s editions, as well as a chronological listing of every story in the series, including those that were “sealed” by the author. For any fan of the series, this volume is a must-buy.

DAVID: I can’t say that this particular arc of Eiichiro Oda’s One Piece has been my very favorite ever, but a middling patch of One Piece is still superior to the vast majority of comics. I suspect that the 59th volume will be one of those heartbreakers that Oda can pull off when one least expects it. And I’m sure there will be some callback to it about six or seven volumes down the road that will break my heart all over again. For those who aren’t up to date, Luffy has been fighting like a demon to save his brother from execution, and, being Luffy, he’s ignited a huge war between the navy and pretty much every pirate in the world without even trying. We’re nearing the conclusion of that and – hopefully – the return of the regular supporting cast. I miss the Straw Hats something awful.

KATE: Though I heartily second MJ’s choice of Black Jack, my pick goes to Dawn of the Arcana, a new Shojo Beat title. Most early reviews were tepid, with critics grousing about the pace, the poor integration of the fantasy elements, or the author’s over-reliance on types (e.g. Brash Jerk with Heart of Gold, Fawning Admirer Who Would Throw Himself in Front of a Bus for You). Those are fair criticisms of Arcana, but I liked it nonetheless, as it features the kind of steely, smart heroine who can think her way out of a tough situation, rather than relying on her fists or her feminine wiles. I also happened to like the story’s brisk tempo; the author allows important information to be revealed through the natural unfolding of the story, rather than assaulting the reader with lengthy monologues about the setting or the characters’ histories.

MICHELLE: My pick this week goes to the seventeenth and penultimate volume of Bisco Hatori’s Ouran High School Host Club. I’m not blind to the flaws of this series—I groan often at the episodic hijinks—but I still nurture very fond feelings for it, and each volume usually contains just enough romantic progress from the two leads to leave me satisfied as I begin the long wait for the next installment. I can only assume that as the series draws nearer to its conclusion we will see less comedy and more romance, which will make me happy indeed. I love Haruhi and I really love Tamaki, so I want to see those kids work it out already!

SEAN: And I will likewise pick a final volume, though this series does not quite have the blogger cred that Black Jack does. But K-On! has been improving volume by volume, and in the 4th and final volume (for now) of the cast’s exploits, we see the cast trying to deal with passing their exams, getting into the right colleges, playing their final school concert, and dealing with the worst horror of all – the school play! There’s still plenty of laughs here (I love the chapter where everyone thinks Ritsu has a secret boyfriend), but the emphasis is on adorable and heartwarming, with a few tears sprinkled throughout. It probably won’t change anyone’s mind if they hadn’t liked what came before, but for those who did, this is the best of the four volumes. See you in University!

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs 12/5/11

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This week, MJ, Michelle, & Kate look at new releases from Viz Media, Digital Manga Publishing, and Vertical, Inc.

About Love | By Narise Konohara and Tomo Ootake | Digital Manga Publishing – The unconventional cover on this one led me to expect a quirky story, but About Love is calm and melancholy as it depicts the friendship and romance between Asaka, a wedding planner, and Sasagawa, one of his first clients. What I found striking about this story was the lack of optimism from its protagonists—Sasagawa is convinced that Asaka only wants to be friends while Asaka is in love but has no intentions of ever revealing the relationship to his friends and family. Misunderstandings and work obligations conspire to keep the two apart and… I don’t know… usually one assumes a BL couple will ride happily off into the sunset, but I honestly am not sure that’ll happen here. Which is probably a good thing, right? Bucking convention and all that. In any case, it was an interesting read and I recommend it if you’re in the mood for something different. – Michelle Smith

Bakuman, Vol. 8 | By Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata | Viz Media – Bakuman‘s romantic entanglements have never been its strength, and unfortunately this volume is saddled with more than its fair share. Even more unfortunate is the authors’ portrayal of young novelist Aiko Iwase, a brilliant former schoolmate of our heroes, whose ambition is apparently driven entirely by romantic feelings for Takagi, but is presented without any of the genuine insight or sympathy granted to similarly love-obsessed artist Nakai. And while it’s admittedly pretty satisfying to see Nakai finally get smacked in the face (twice!) later in this volume, it’s even more of a relief to see Ohba and Obata turn the plot back to the craft and politics of the manga publishing biz, which is what really makes this series work. I’ll cross my fingers in hopes that we see more of this in the next volume. Still cautiously recommended. – MJ

Black Jack, Vol. 17 | By Osamu Tezuka | Vertical, Inc. – The final installment of Black Jack includes a mixture of good, great, and outstanding stories, the best of which feature Pinoko. I’d be the first to admit that Pinoko is my least favorite character of the series, as she’s always struck me as a nasty caricature of the Japanese housewife. In volume 17, however, Pinoko is forced to confront her liminal status as an adult — first when Black Jack tries to give her to a childless couple, then when her sister enters Black Jack’s life again. Both stories are an appealing mixture of humor, suspense, and pathos that cast this problematic character in a more sympathetic light; we feel Pinoko’s pain as she struggles to reconcile her eternally youthful appearance with her more mature feelings for Black Jack. As an added bonus, Tezuka stuffs these last stories with cameos from Phoenix, Ode to Kirihito, and Swallowing the Earth (to name a few), a lovely reward for his most devoted fans. – Katherine Dacey

I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow, Vol. 4 | By Shunju Aono | Viz Media – After the crushing resignation of the editor who believed in him, Shizuo’s new editor—the embittered, no-nonsense daughter of a failed novelist—cuts him no slack, describing his work as self-indulgent justification for his own lifestyle. Surprisingly, Shizuo actually seems to listen, at least by the end of the volume, providing hope that the promised “Tomorrow” might actually be at hand. I’ve become frustrated with this series from time-to-time, as it vacillates between latching on to a real narrative and settling into the perpetual sitcom feel so common in comedic manga. But I do have some hope of it finally leaning towards the former, especially after this very strong volume. As usual, the series’ side characters are more interesting than its protagonist, but finally it seems like that protagonist might actually care. It’s fascinating to watch this series evolve in a way not dissimilar to our hero’s own journey, which may simply prove how brilliant it’s been from the start. Recommended. – MJ

The Innocent | By Avi Arad, Junichi Fujisaku, and Yasung Ko | Yen Press – I was initially baffled by the presence of quotes from Stan Lee and Sam Raimi on the back cover of The Innocent until a little research revealed that Arad is actually some kind of Marvel bigwig. Apparently, this is why he has the likes of Nicolas Cage proclaiming that his work “shows like an esoteric haiku by way of anime and Lichtenstein and achieves comic book poetry.” To which I say, “Um, what?” And also, “Were we reading the same book?” I found The Innocent to be uninspired, with unsympathetic characters, incredibly paper-thin villains, and incoherent action scenes. It’s possible that this could have been a cool story—it does feature a wrongly executed guy who comes back to life with a body made of ash, which he can manipulate in various nifty ways—but the flaws listed above prevented me from giving a hoot about any of it. – Michelle Smith

Real, Vol. 10 | By Takehiko Inoue | Viz Media – It’s been a long wait for the tenth volume of Real, but I am happy to report that the wait is well worthwhile! This volume maintains the sort of shounen-esque feel of volume nine, with a mixture of grand declarations, gritty determination, and talk of achieving one’s dreams, but without losing any of the realism that makes this series so compelling. It’s gratifying, really, to see a character like Takahashi discover a glimmer of aspiration at long last, and it’s surprising how possible Noyima’s seemingly unrealistic dream suddenly appears, now that his moment of trial has arrived. Inoue’s craftsmanship is as stunning as ever, and I’m constantly impressed by his ability to shift focus from character to character without ever losing the tension in even one of his delicately-overlapping storylines. Heavy as it can be, this series is always a pleasure to read, which is a true feat for any writer. It seems clear that this series will always be worth waiting for. Highly recommended. – MJ

Pick of the Week: Negima & more

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A slow week at Midtown Comics can be painful, but the Battle Robot finds a few books to love, both on and off the list.

SEAN: I’ve become accustomed to the fact that both titles I’d like to talk about this week fall into the category of ‘will never, ever gain new readers no matter how much I review them’. With that in mind, this has been one of the most enjoyable arcs of Negima! to date, and this volume, although technically a breather, advances a lot of plot points. The four sports girls each get some lovely character moments, particularly Yuna and Akira, and we get some nice (if tear-jerking) backstory. We also get a good look at Fate’s group, showing that even thought they may be the villains that doesn’t mean that they’re irredeemable or acting out of evil. (cough) Well, except Tsukuyomi. Who reaches new levels of terrifying. For Negima fans, it’s a must buy. For casual readers, go read the 2nd omnibus instead.

MJ: This week’s meager offering is nearly a bust for me, but fortunately my favorite talking cactus saves the day! Things take a fairly dramatic turn, romance-wise, in volume 9 of SangEun Lee’s 13th Boy, and I have to admit it’s all going my way, at least for now. I can’t think of a girls’ comic I’ve enjoyed more in the past year or so than 13th Boy, and I’m already mourning the fact that it’s only going to last me through July of next year. Beatrice now, Beatrice forever!

KATE: This week’s manga offerings are mighty slim, so my choice is the third issue of Dorothy and The Wizard in Oz (Marvel). As a child, I only read the first Oz novel and, truth be told, found it kind of ponderous. In Skottie Young and Erik Shanower’s capable hands, however, all of Baum’s Oz novels have been a genuine pleasure to read: they’re beautifully and playfully illustrated, bringing Baum’s weirdest creations to vivid life. Dorothy and the Wizard is the fourth novel in the original series, reuniting Dorothy with the balloonist-cum-wizard from the first book. The episodic plot is perfectly suited to a serial medium like comics, offering readers enough variation to keep them interested while allowing each of the supporting characters a memorable turn in the spotlight. A great choice for younger readers.

MICHELLE: Oh dear, there is indeed a paucity of choices from Midtown Comics this week. Since MJhas so ably recommended volume nine of 13th Boy, I shall go off-list and pick something that should be on this list but isn’t, and that’s volume one of Shugo Chara-chan!, due out this week from Kodansha Comics. Honestly, I have no idea whether this will actually be good, but I’ve been looking forward to checking it out for a while. It’s by Peach-Pit, the same team who wrote Shugo Chara! itself, and is essentially a 4-koma comic strip starring the “guardian characters” from the main series. It’s possible that it will be painfully unfunny, or perhaps only suited for young audiences, but I am hoping for the best!

Readers, what looks good to you?

Bookshelf Briefs 11/28/11

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This week, MJ, David, Kate, Michelle, and Sean take a look at Yen Press, Viz Media, Kodansha Comics, East Press, and Digital Manga Publishing.

13th Boy, Vol. 9 | By SangEun Lee | Yen Press – I know they say “you can’t always get what you want” and all that, but what I’ve learned from SangEun Lee’s 13th Boy, is that sometimes you really can and it’s freaking fantastic. After eight terrific volumes, 13th Boy is giving me exactly what I’ve most wished for, and even if it’s a temporary situation (which I suspect it is), I can’t deny that I’m walking on air. Fortunately, this bit of wish-fulfillment is written with the same humor and charm as everything else in this series, so it isn’t only what we want, but also just what the narrative needs. Isn’t it nice when these things work out? 13th Boy may not be the flashiest series in Yen’s current lineup, but it’s certainly one of the best. Still recommended. – MJ

Cross Game, Vol. 5 | By Mitsuru Adachi | Viz Media – Adachi introduces a surprisingly contrived plot twist in this generally grounded series, and I’m not quite sure what I think of it. A new character moves into the neighborhood, and she causes a number of ripples in the regular cast, though she has no idea she’s doing it. Her impact is the result of something that’s entirely beyond her control, which is unlike what I’ve come to expect from the very character-driven Cross Game. Adachi’s enormous talent makes the ripples much more moving than they might be otherwise, and he seems to be building up the new character as an individual rather than as just a catalyst. Still, I don’t really know what to make of Adachi’s decision to introduce her in the first place. It seems like a narrative shortcut or a stunt, and, no matter how well executed it might be, I feel like the technique is almost a little bit beneath Adachi. – David Welsh

Dawn of the Arcana, Vol. 1 | By Rei Toma | Viz Media -The notion of a feisty young woman who must choose between two boys – one aloof, one fawning – is possibly one of the least fresh in the wide world of romantic fiction. That’s the main attraction of Dawn of the Arcana, at least as far as the first volume goes, so the reader is left to evaluate it based on execution. Toma has a lot of talent on her side. Her art is stylish, and her storytelling is sincere. But her ability to create characters that engage the reader quickly isn’t really in place. Nakaba, a psychic princess who’s forced into marriage, has some intriguing qualities that don’t have much to do with her effectiveness as the hinge of a love triangle. As a result, I ended up caring least about what Toma spent the largest amount of time examining. If she rounds out the story with more palace intrigue and dark destiny, the series could hold my attention better. – David Welsh

Fairy Tail, , Vol. 16 | By Hiro Mashima | Kodansha Comics – The end of one arc and the start of another here, but there’s much to like in this transitional volume of Fairy Tail. It’s rare that an author actually lets you know that they’ve added and changed material from the weekly magazine version, but Mashima is proud to point out that he was able to expand the celebration in Chapter 128, and rightly so – it really helps to show the sheer joy and happiness that the town is seeing, as well as the somewhat melancholy departure of Laxus. Another villain with basic good intentions, Laxus simply can’t stay in Fairy Tail after what he’s done, and the melodrama is appropriate here. There’s also a brief chapter featuring Lucy and her father, as she discovers he’s lost everything. The scene where he confronts her is incredibly discomfiting (which is what is intended.) Finally, we start on a new quest, and meet a bunch of new people from various other guilds. Betcha two to one it’s the cute loli girl who becomes the new cast member. As ever, if you want more One Piece-esque shonen and don’t mind that it’s not quite as good, Fairy Tail is a lot of fun.-Sean Gaffney

I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow, Vol. 4 | By Shunju Aono | Viz Media – The fourth volume of I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow introduces a new character, Aya Unami, a twenty-three-year-old editor who sees parallels between failed manga-ka Shizuo Oguro and her own father, a failed novelist. The relationship between Unami and Oguro supplies most of the dramatic juice in volume four, as Unami tries to discourage Oguro from submitting more work to EKKE. (“I think you need to know when to give up,” she tells him at the end of their first meeting.) Though Oguro never persuades her to publish “Live to 300,” his latest excruciatingly autobiographical manuscript, Oguro does have an epiphany about his tough-talking editor: she might be the only person with the vision and honesty to help him improve. Whether she’s willing to coach him, and whether he can accept her guidance… well, that’s another story. -Katherine Dacey

No Longer Human | Based on the novel by Osamu Dazai; Adapted by Variety Art Works | East Press – Given the commercial and critical success of Osamu Dazai’s final novel, it’s no surprise that so many manga publishers have commissioned adaptations. Vertical, Inc. has just released the first volume of Usamaru Furuya’s 2009 version, which transplants the story from pre-war Japan to the present day, while JManga has dug into the vault for an older, more straightforward version from East Press. The East Press version suffers by comparison with Furuya’s, as the artwork is clumsy and the pacing hurried; the adaptation team tries too hard to include every scene from Dazai’s book, resulting in a string of brief, two-to-three page episodes that never gel into a coherent story. Readers unfamiliar with Dazai’s novel may find this brief comic book treatment a useful place to start, but are encouraged to seek out Donald Keene’s English translation for a more thorough introduction to Dazai’s unflinching style. -Katherine Dacey

Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan, Vol. 6 | By Hiroshi Shiibashi | Viz Media – If you had any doubts about why VIZ licensed Nura, volume six should dispel them: it’s easily the most exciting installment to date, boasting several lengthy action sequences and a bevy of fierce-looking demons worthy of Tsukioka Yoshitoshi. The downside to all this activity, however, is that only the most committed reader will be able to follow the battles; Hiroshi Shiibashi stages too many separate fights at once, lurching back and forth between storylines with little regard for continuity. The second half of the volume is positively sedate in comparison, as Rikuo joins his human friends in exorcising a ghost with yakuza ties. Though the story follows a well-traveled path, Shiibashi manages a few scares and laughs, thanks to imaginative character designs and a denouement worthy of Scooby Doo himself. Fitfully entertaining. -Katherine Dacey

Only Serious About You, Vol. 1 | By Asou Kai | Digital Manga Publishing – Naoki Oosawa is a single dad balancing caring for his daughter Chizu and his busy work schedule at a restaurant. When Chizu falls ill, Oosawa accepts the help offered by a flirtatious gay customer, Seiichi Yoshioka, and ends up learning that Yoshioka is not quite as cavalier about relationships as it seems. There is much to like about this two-volume series so far. For one, it takes its time depicting the trust and friendship developing between Oosawa and Yoshioka, complete with many cute scenes in which Yoshioka bonds with Chizu. (There is an adorable moment involving hair ties, for example.) For another, I appreciate the way in which Yoshioka’s behavior can be reinterpreted once one begins to really understand him. That’s some sure-handed characterization. Ultimately, this was quite a pleasant surprise and I look forward to the second volume. – Michelle Smith

We Were There, Vol. 13 | By Yuuki Obata | Viz Media – In a romance series as melancholy as We Were There, there’s a point where even the most beloved relationship can become intolerable if it’s creating too much pain, and Nanami and Yano’s has finally reached that point, at least for this reader. This is not actually a criticism. It’s a testament to the realism of this series that I’ve come to regard Nanami as a friend who needs a good talking-to, in hopes that she’ll finally let go of her high school sweetheart and learn to appreciate what’s actually in front of her, “true love” be damned. Obata has a real knack for capturing some of the heart’s least fortunate truths and presenting them with both honesty and compassion, and this volume is a perfect example of that skill in action. Both quiet and complicated, We Were There is still one of the best ongoing series’ in Viz’s Shojo Beat catalogue. Recommended. – MJ

No Longer Human, Vol. 1

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First published in 1948, Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human became one of the most widely read books in post-war Japan. The story, modeled on Dazai’s own life, chronicles a dissolute young man’s profound estrangement from his family and peers. The protagonist’s life follows a trajectory similar to Dazai’s: convinced that his life is an empty charade, Yozo drops out of school; joins the Communist Party; enters into a suicide pact with a virtual stranger; and woos lonely women, using them for shelter, emotional comfort, and financial support after his father, a prominent politician, disowns him.

The novel is divided into three sections, or “notebooks,” each corresponding to a period in the protagonist’s life. In the first, Yozo describes his childhood: his uneasy relationship with his father, his clownish behavior at school, and his abuse at the hands of a female servant. In the second and third sections, Yozo documents his troubled adulthood, as he abandons school for a life of drinking and illicit relationships, bouncing from one woman to the next with little regard for the harm he causes them — or himself. Framing Yozo’s story is a second narrative delivered by an unnamed author who has found three photographs of Yozo: as a child of ten, “a small boy surrounded by a great many women”; as a college student, handsome but “strangely unpleasant”; and as man in his later twenties, his hair “streaked with gray,” and his face “devoid of expression.”*

Given the novel’s enduring popularity, it’s no surprise that several manga artists have adapted Dazai’s text as a graphic novel. Their approaches have ranged from reverential — the East Press edition (2007) hews closely to the original novel — to provocative — Yasunori Ninose’s version (2010) uses tentacle-porn imagery to represent the character’s extreme emotional distress. Usamaru Furuya’s 2009 adaptation falls somewhere in between, taking liberties with the setting and structure of Dazai’s work, while preserving the original tone and events of the novel.

As these myriad approaches suggest, one of the biggest challenges of translating No Longer Human into a pictorial form is its interiority: though eventful, Yozo’s story is as much about his state of mind as his behavior. Early in the novel, for example, Yozo describes his inability to understand how other people feel and think. “I have not the remotest clue what the nature or extent of my neighbor’s woes can be,” he tells the reader. “It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people.” In a desperate attempt to camouflage his bewilderment, Yozo constructs a jovial mask, winning approval from his family members and classmates with impish behavior and remarks. “I kept my melancholy and my agitation hidden, careful lest any trace should be left exposed,” he explains. “I feigned an innocent optimism; I gradually perfected myself in the role of the farcical eccentric.”

Furuya makes a game effort to find visual analogues for Yozo’s interior states. Whenever Yozo feels emotionally disoriented, for example, Furuya obscures the other characters’ expressions, rendering their faces as blurs. Furuya extends this symbolic approach to Yozo’s social paralysis as well. “I was congenitally unable to refuse anything offered to me by another person, no matter how little it might suit my tastes,” Yozo confesses. “In other words, I hadn’t the strength even to choose between two alternatives.” In these passages, Furuya draws Yozo as a marionette, violently manipulated by an unseen puppeteer; as a drowning victim, disappearing under the water’s surface; and as a man engulfed in flames, so consumed by his fear of disappointing others that he surrenders his own agency.

Though Furuya follows the basic outline of Dazai’s novel, he makes two significant changes to the text. First, he moves the story from pre-war Japan to the present day, replacing the unnamed narrator with a character named Usamaru Furuya, a manga artist who discovers Yozo’s pictures on the internet. Second, Furuya streamlines the script, all but eliminating the first notebook; instead, he depicts Yozo’s childhood through a few brief, suggestive flashbacks.

The first decision makes good sense. By moving the setting from Taisho-era Japan to the present, Furuya sheds the novel’s period trappings in favor of a milieu that readers can intuitively appreciate — a world of blogs, cell-phones, high-rise apartment buildings, and other technologies that promote social isolation.

Less successful is Furuya’s decision to focus on Yozo’s adult life to the exclusion of his childhood. In the original novel, ten-year-old Yozo crosses paths with another outsider, a young boy who immediately detects the effort and strain behind Yozo’s clowning.  Fearful that Takeichi will expose his deceit to the other students, Yozo dons “the gentle beguiling smile of the false Christian,” befriending the odd, unlikeable Takeichi in an effort to buy his silence. The episode is among the most potent and revealing in the book, an early example of Yozo’s ability to manipulate others, and a rare example of him acknowledging his own agency — something he never does in the manga.

Furuya also trims another brief but important scene from the early pages of No Longer Human, in which Yozo implies that he was molested by his wealthy family’s servants. “Already by that time I had been taught a lamentable thing by the maids and menservants; I was being corrupted,” Yozo declares. “I now think that that to perpetrate such a thing on a small child is the ugliest, vilest, cruelest crime a human being can commit.” Yozo’s indifference to others’ suffering, inability to experience romantic love, and passive-aggressive behavior, suggest a pathology rooted in this formative experience. Perhaps Furuya found this passage too neatly Freudian for his purposes, but in choosing to omit it, he makes Yozo seem like just another cad who beds and discards women, rather than a wounded soul incapable of sexual intimacy.

Yet for all its shortcomings — the omissions, the obvious symbolism — Furuya’s adaptation still captures the raw power of Dazai’s original novel. In its best passages, Furuya makes us feel as dazed and lonely as Yozo himself; we appreciate how helpless he feels, though we can see how seductive — and dangerous — he can be. Furuya also manages to document the full extent of Yozo’s debauchery without eroticizing it; we are keenly aware of the emotional distance between Yozo and his sexual conquests, making these scenes feel joyless and awkward, rather than titillating in their explicitness.

In short, Furuya has found a way to transform Dazai’s sharp critique of pre-war Japanese society into a more universal text, one that raises the question, What does it mean to be human right now?

* All quotations taken from Donald Keene’s translation (New York: Penguin Books, 1958).

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

NO LONGER HUMAN, VOL. 1 • NOVEL BY OSAMU DAZAI, ADAPTATION BY USAMARU FURUYA • VERTICAL, INC. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

No Longer Human, Vol. 1

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First published in 1948, Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human became one of the most widely read books in post-war Japan. The story, modeled on Dazai’s own life, chronicles a dissolute young man’s profound estrangement from his family and peers. The protagonist’s life follows a trajectory similar to Dazai’s: convinced that his life is an empty charade, Yozo drops out of school; joins the Communist Party; enters into a suicide pact with a virtual stranger; and woos lonely women, using them for shelter, emotional comfort, and financial support after his father, a prominent politician, disowns him.

The novel is divided into three sections, or “notebooks,” each corresponding to a period in the protagonist’s life. In the first, Yozo describes his childhood: his uneasy relationship with his father, his clownish behavior at school, and his abuse at the hands of a female servant. In the second and third sections, Yozo documents his troubled adulthood, as he abandons school for a life of drinking and illicit relationships, bouncing from one woman to the next with little regard for the harm he causes them — or himself. Framing Yozo’s story is a second narrative delivered by an unnamed author who has found three photographs of Yozo: as a child of ten, “a small boy surrounded by a great many women”; as a college student, handsome but “strangely unpleasant”; and as man in his later twenties, his hair “streaked with gray,” and his face “devoid of expression.”*

Given the novel’s enduring popularity, it’s no surprise that several manga artists have adapted Dazai’s text as a graphic novel. Their approaches have ranged from reverential — the East Press edition (2007) hews closely to the original novel — to provocative — Yasunori Ninose’s version (2010) uses tentacle-porn imagery to represent the character’s extreme emotional distress. Usamaru Furuya’s 2009 adaptation falls somewhere in between, taking liberties with the setting and structure of Dazai’s work, while preserving the original tone and events of the novel.

As these myriad approaches suggest, one of the biggest challenges of translating No Longer Human into a pictorial form is its interiority: though eventful, Yozo’s story is as much about his state of mind as his behavior. Early in the novel, for example, Yozo describes his inability to understand how other people feel and think. “I have not the remotest clue what the nature or extent of my neighbor’s woes can be,” he tells the reader. “It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people.” In a desperate attempt to camouflage his bewilderment, Yozo constructs a jovial mask, winning approval from his family members and classmates with impish behavior and remarks. “I kept my melancholy and my agitation hidden, careful lest any trace should be left exposed,” he explains. “I feigned an innocent optimism; I gradually perfected myself in the role of the farcical eccentric.”

Furuya makes a game effort to find visual analogues for Yozo’s interior states. Whenever Yozo feels emotionally disoriented, for example, Furuya obscures the other characters’ expressions, rendering their faces as blurs. Furuya extends this symbolic approach to Yozo’s social paralysis as well. “I was congenitally unable to refuse anything offered to me by another person, no matter how little it might suit my tastes,” Yozo confesses. “In other words, I hadn’t the strength even to choose between two alternatives.” In these passages, Furuya draws Yozo as a marionette, violently manipulated by an unseen puppeteer; as a drowning victim, disappearing under the water’s surface; and as a man engulfed in flames, so consumed by his fear of disappointing others that he surrenders his own agency.

Though Furuya follows the basic outline of Dazai’s novel, he makes two significant changes to the text. First, he moves the story from pre-war Japan to the present day, replacing the unnamed narrator with a character named Usamaru Furuya, a manga artist who discovers Yozo’s pictures on the internet. Second, Furuya streamlines the script, all but eliminating the first notebook; instead, he depicts Yozo’s childhood through a few brief, suggestive flashbacks.

The first decision makes good sense. By moving the setting from Taisho-era Japan to the present, Furuya sheds the novel’s period trappings in favor of a milieu that readers can intuitively appreciate — a world of blogs, cell-phones, high-rise apartment buildings, and other technologies that promote social isolation.

Less successful is Furuya’s decision to focus on Yozo’s adult life to the exclusion of his childhood. In the original novel, ten-year-old Yozo crosses paths with another outsider, a young boy who immediately detects the effort and strain behind Yozo’s clowning.  Fearful that Takeichi will expose his deceit to the other students, Yozo dons “the gentle beguiling smile of the false Christian,” befriending the odd, unlikeable Takeichi in an effort to buy his silence. The episode is among the most potent and revealing in the book, an early example of Yozo’s ability to manipulate others, and a rare example of him acknowledging his own agency — something he never does in the manga.

Furuya also trims another brief but important scene from the early pages of No Longer Human, in which Yozo implies that he was molested by his wealthy family’s servants. “Already by that time I had been taught a lamentable thing by the maids and menservants; I was being corrupted,” Yozo declares. “I now think that that to perpetrate such a thing on a small child is the ugliest, vilest, cruelest crime a human being can commit.” Yozo’s indifference to others’ suffering, inability to experience romantic love, and passive-aggressive behavior, suggest a pathology rooted in this formative experience. Perhaps Furuya found this passage too neatly Freudian for his purposes, but in choosing to omit it, he makes Yozo seem like just another cad who beds and discards women, rather than a wounded soul incapable of sexual intimacy.

Yet for all its shortcomings — the omissions, the obvious symbolism — Furuya’s adaptation still captures the raw power of Dazai’s original novel. In its best passages, Furuya makes us feel as dazed and lonely as Yozo himself; we appreciate how helpless he feels, though we can see how seductive — and dangerous — he can be. Furuya also manages to document the full extent of Yozo’s debauchery without eroticizing it; we are keenly aware of the emotional distance between Yozo and his sexual conquests, making these scenes feel joyless and awkward, rather than titillating in their explicitness.

In short, Furuya has found a way to transform Dazai’s sharp critique of pre-war Japanese society into a more universal text, one that raises the question, What does it mean to be human right now?

* All quotations taken from Donald Keene’s translation (New York: Penguin Books, 1958).

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc.

NO LONGER HUMAN, VOL. 1 • NOVEL BY OSAMU DAZAI, ADAPTATION BY USAMARU FURUYA • VERTICAL, INC. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Bookshelf Briefs 11/21/11

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This week, Sean, Kate, & Michelle take a look at recent releases from Viz Media, NETCOMICS, Vertical, and Seven Seas.

Dengeki Daisy, Vol. 7 | By Kyousuke Motomi | Viz Media – Well, we’d been waiting for a volume like this, and here it is. Mind you, it takes until the very end to finish pulling all its triggers. The start of the book is cute, funny, and has tinges of romance, just as this series has always done when it’s not trying to kill its heroine or dealing with backstory and intrigue. In particular, at first we think Akira is going to screw things up in a mild, typical shoujo way. His forced kiss, and Teru and Kurosaki’s response, are a real highlight. Then we get that 2nd half, where we discover the dangers of having your cell phone stolen. You could argue that Kurosaki is far too gullible, but honestly, he’s been telling himself for the last 6 volumes that he should suffer, so why are we surprised when he believes what he sees? And that cliffhanger? Oof. Volume 8 had better come soon and resolve this, or there will be a reckoning.– Sean Gaffney

Full House, Vol. 6 | By Sooyeon Won | NETCOMICS – Smooching! Rescues! Revelations! Haircuts! This volume has it all. We open with our leads hiding out from Ellie’s kidnapper in a swanky house conveniently located in the middle of nowhere. As they settle into their temporary digs—including the cutest let’s-see-whether-this-expired-food-is-any-good scene ever—they grow closer, with Ryder finally sharing with Ellie the details of his first love, Jasmine. But because he believes he is dying of cancer, he doesn’t follow up on their connection and once the truth is revealed to him, Ellie has already determined to move on with her life. It’s melorama at its finest, but I enjoyed it tremendously. I also appreciate how much Ellie has matured since the start of the series and watching easy-on-the-eyes Ryder moon about over her is great fun. I only wish these volumes were available in print because this is the kind of series that lends itself to weekend marathons. – Michelle Smith

Princess Knight, Part One | By Osamu Tezuka | Vertical, Inc. – Osamu Tezuka’s Princess Knight wasn’t the first shojo manga, but it was one of the most influential girls’ comics in postwar Japan. The story focuses on Sapphire, a princess who’s raised as a prince so that she may inherit her kingdom’s throne. When her parents’ duplicity comes to light, Sapphire goes on the lam, using her expert swordsmanship to defend her subjects from the wicked Duke Duralumin. Though the series’ gender politics are dated — Sapphire wants nothing more than to be able to wear a pretty dress — it’s easy to see why this story has enchanted several generations of Japanese readers: Sapphire has swashbuckling adventures *and* wins the hand of Prince Charming. Long unavailable in English, the new Vertical edition is a marked improvement over Kodansha’s bilingual one from 2002, thanks to Maya Rosewood’s fluid translation. A must for serious manga fans. -Katherine Dacey

RIN-NE, Vol. 7 | By Rumiko Takahashi | Viz Media – Like InuYasha before it, RIN-NE is like a manga sitcom, with a steadily growing cast of recurring characters who convene for different scenarios during which nothing ever changes about their interpersonal relationships. This volume features such stock settings as a summer festival and the beach, and none of the stories is really much of anything to get excited about. In fact, the final one, about a cursed crop of sweet potatoes (yes, really), is downright dumb. And yet, I can’t dislike this series. It just has this innate Takahashi charm that encourages acceptance of its weaker elements and compels me to keep checking in to see whether anything has actually really happened with the characters. I’m not sure whether I can recommend it to other people, but I’ll probably keep reading it. – Michelle Smith

Rin-Ne, Vol. 7 | By Rumiko Takahashi | Viz Media – This volume is a nice breather after the last, and has no real overall plot development. It does have a bit of character development, as Rinne’s feelings, which were always fairly clear to begin with, are becoming very obvious to anyone not named Sakura. Aside from that, it’s a typical Takahashi volume – lots of really goofy ideas (the while sweet potato story is a classic “how did she even come up with that?” idea from Takahashi, some abuse of its heroes (Rinne can’t catch a break, of course, but Tsubasa and Ageha also get their turn being the butt monkey), and the occasional sweet moment as a bone thrown to longtime readers (the festival chapter). If you’re waiting for something to actually develop, you should look elsewhere, but for those Viz readers who can’t imagine not having a Takahashi title they’re collecting, Rin-Ne will serve admirably.– Sean Gaffney

Toradora!, Vol. 3 | By Yuyuko Takemiya and Zekkyo | Seven Seas – After Soul Eater, this may be my second title where I find I’m reading it primarily for the art. To be more precise, I’m reading it for the Kushieda gags. Kushieda is a complete flake, and whenever she gets a scene where she acts especially flakey, the artist decides to draw it in a completely different style. This gives us what appears to be sordid game-show contestant Kushieda and bancho Kushieda, both of whom are worth the price of the manga alone. That said, the plot going on here (seeing Ami’s true self, and getting her to stpo being the devious manipulator) is handled well, and Taiga is still incredibly tsundere without making you want to smack her, i.e. the best kind. One art drawback, though – the introduction of the student council president, who also appears to be Kitamura’s crush, is undercut by her resemblance to Ami – I got the two mixed up almost immediately. Still, can’t have everything, and Toradora! continues to be a fun romantic comedy. And love those poses.– Sean Gaffney

Dawn of the Arcana, Vol. 1

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“Today, I belong to the enemy” — so begins Dawn of the Arcana, a medieval fantasy in which a feisty princess marries into a neighboring country’s royal family. Nakaba characterizes herself as “a lamb,” sacrificed by her people to help two warring kingdoms maintain a fragile peace. Her husband, the handsome but insolent Prince Caesar, initially snubs his new wife; not only does she have red hair — a commoner’s color — but she also flouts palace conventions, wearing the traditional dress of her homeland, employing a male Ajin (humanoid) as her valet, and excoriating Caesar in front of his servants.

Adding fuel to this combustible situation are Caesar’s mother, a Lady Macbeth figure who urges her son to seek the throne; King Guran, her husband; Cain, Caesar’s half-brother; and Louise, Cain’s flirty fiancee. Nakaba is keenly aware of their contempt for her, and struggles to maintain her composure as they openly mock her and threaten her faithful servant Loki. Though Loki is devoted to his mistress, he, too, poses a danger to Nakaba, as he quickly antagonizes Caesar and Guran with his impulsive behavior….

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Dawn of the Arcana, Vol. 1

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“Today, I belong to the enemy” — so begins Dawn of the Arcana, a medieval fantasy in which a feisty princess marries into a neighboring country’s royal family. Nakaba characterizes herself as “a lamb,” sacrificed by her people to help two warring kingdoms maintain a fragile peace. Her husband, the handsome but insolent Prince Caesar, initially snubs his new wife; not only does she have red hair — a commoner’s color — but she also flouts palace conventions, wearing the traditional dress of her homeland, employing a male Ajin (humanoid) as her valet, and excoriating Caesar in front of his servants.

Adding fuel to this combustible situation are Caesar’s mother, a Lady Macbeth figure who urges her son to seek the throne; King Guran, her husband; Cain, Caesar’s half-brother; and Louise, Cain’s flirty fiancee. Nakaba is keenly aware of their contempt for her, and struggles to maintain her composure as they openly mock her and threaten her faithful servant Loki. Though Loki is devoted to his mistress, he, too, poses a danger to Nakaba, as he quickly antagonizes Caesar and Guran with his impulsive behavior.

As predictable as the plot may be — would you be surprised to learn that Caesar soon becomes smitten with his ginger-haired bride? — Dawn of the Arcana proves engaging nonetheless, a heady mixture of palace intrigue and romance. Nakaba, in particular, is a winning heroine: she’s tough and principled, but savvy enough to appease Caesar and his family when it suits her own agenda. (Early in volume one, for example, Nakaba slaps Loki after a tense stand-off between the prince and the valet, telling Loki, “Disciplining my husband is my duty!”) Nakaba’s enemies are two-dimensional at best, but each displays a Joan Collinesque flair for making Nakaba’s life miserable, spitting out their lines with gusto. (“You look wretched!” the queen exclaims upon seeing Nakaba in her people’s native costume. “Typical red-hair!”)

What gives Dawn of the Arcana its real dramatic juice, however, is the way in which Rei Toma draws parallels between Nakaba’s situation and everyday teenage experience. Anyone who’s ever transferred to a new school, run the gauntlet of a junior high school cafeteria, or been hassled for wearing the “wrong” clothes will immediately recognize herself in Nakaba’s shoes. Sitting at a royal banquet, for example, Nakaba squirms under the withering stares of her new subjects. “I can feel it,” she thinks. “The hatred. The curiosity. The sneers.” In an added note of realism, Toma depicts Caesar as two-faced, the sort of fair-weather friend who openly mocks Nakaba in public — where nasty comments score points with his family —while privately acknowledging her sincerity and courage.

If I had any criticism of Arcana, it’s that the artwork is unimaginative. The character designs are attractive, with careful attention to costumes and hairstyles, but lack personality; I’d have difficulty distinguishing Rei Toma’s work from other popular shojo manga artists’. The minimalist backgrounds are likewise disappointing, doing little to situate the story in a particular time or place. Perhaps that’s a deliberate decision on Toma’s part, an attempt to make Nakaba’s story seem more universal. Given the sloppiness with which the establishing shots are rendered, however, it seems more likely that architectural details and landscapes aren’t her forte.

Still, that’s a minor criticism of an engaging story — one that benefits from a terrific premise, an intelligent heroine, and a supporting cast that wouldn’t be out of place in a juicy historical soap opera like Rome or The Tudors. Recommended.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

DAWN OF THE ARCANA, VOL. 1 • BY REI TOMA • VIZ • 192 pp. • RATED: TEEN (13+)