Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Katherine Dacey

MMF: GeGeGe no Kitaro

by 5 Comments

From the early 1920s through the late 1950s, before television became a fixture in Japanese homes, audiences flocked to kamishibai performances on street corners and parks around the country. A kamishibaiya (storyteller) would pedal from village to village with a butai (small wooden stage) perched on the back of his bicycle. When he arrived in a new community, he would click two sticks together to announce his presence, selling candy to the growing assembly of children. He would then show the audience a series of colorfully painted panels that told a story in much the same fashion as a comic book, narrating as he removed them one at a time from the butai.

At the height of its popularity in the 1930s, nearly five million people attended kamishibai performances every day. There were kamishibai for every demographic: sentimental tales about kittens and orphans for girls, adventure stories about masked heroes and mountaineers for boys, and pulpy mysteries and historical dramas for adults. A small army of artists and writers cranked out new installments of popular stories such as Golden Bat, Tiger Boy, Prince Gamma, and Cry of the Andes, providing an important training ground for such postwar manga-ka as Kazuo Koike, Sanpei Shirato, and Shigeru Mizuki.

A contemporary kamishibaiya performs in front of a butai.

Mizuki’s best-known comic, GeGeGe no Kitaro, traces its roots to the 1930s, when kamishibaiya around Japan performed Hakaba no Kitaro, a supernatural tale about a yokai boy who lived in a graveyard. Though Mizuki didn’t create Kitaro, he was responsible for adapting Hakaba no Kitaro into manga form, publishing his first Kitaro stories for the akabon (rental comics) market in 1959. Kitaro eventually found a home at Weekly Shonen Magazine in 1966, where the editors renamed it GeGeGe no Kitaro. Kitaro proved immensely popular, spawning animated television shows, feature-length movies, and video games, not to mention numerous manga sequels in Shonen Sunday, Shonen Action, and Shukan Jitsuwa.

Despite its immense popularity in Japan, none of the GeGeGe no Kitaro manga have been licensed for the North American market. In 2002, Kodansha International hired Ralph McCarthy to translate a handful of the Weekly Shonen Magazine stories, collecting them in three bilingual editions. Those volumes are scarce — at least on this side of the Pacific — although I was able to snag the first on eBay for less than $20. (Caveat emptor: Some Amazon retailers are asking as much as $345.00 for a single volume of the Kodansha Bilingual Comics edition.)

Looking through the pages of volume one, the story’s roots in kamishibai are apparent. The first chapter, “Ghost Train,” is a classic example of comeuppance theater: after two Tokyo businessmen abuse Kitaro and his sidekick Ratman, the men find themselves aboard a mysterious train whose final destination is Tama-reien (Tama Cemetery). The pacing suggests a story told at a campfire, allowing the audience to savor the word play (all the stops on the Tama-reien line have eerie names), the description of the passengers, and the two businessmen’s growing sense of terror. Though the pictures carry the weight of the storytelling, Mizuki uses an omniscient narrator to heighten the reader’s awareness of sound. “The skeleton-thin attendant blew his flute, and a tram came screeching into the station like a rickety hearse,” the narrator informs us. “The door rattled open like the door to a crematorium.”

The narrator serves another important purpose as well, filling in the gap between images, just as a kamishibayai would have done in the 1930s. Towards the end of the story, for example, the two men decide to leap from the train, rather than ride it to its final destination. Mizuki draws their awkward jump, then cuts to an image of the ghost train speeding along a dark track, barely distinguishable from the night sky and grassy wasteland it traverses. “Their heads cracked against something hard — rocks, perhaps,” the narrator explains. “A wail of agony splits the air, then all was silence once again.” This statement proves essential to setting up the story’s punchline, bringing the men’s ordeal to a dramatically suggestive end that is deftly clarified in the last four panels.

The second chapter, “The Leviathing,” owes a debt to such kamishibai mainstays as Golden Bat and Prince Gamma, serial adventures that freely mixed elements of science fiction, mystery, and fantasy. In “Leviathing,” Kitaro joins a scientific expedition to New Guinea, where an unscrupulous scientist injects Kitaro with a prehistoric animal’s blood, transforming Kitaro into a hairy, seven-story beast with the head of a whale and the body of a yeti.

As in “Ghost Train,” an omniscent narrator plays an important role in advancing the story, describing the changes in setting, and revealing the limitations of Kitaro’s new form. “Kitaro tried to yell, ‘Father!’, but all that came out was the Leviathing’s roar,” the narrator intones. “He put down his frightened father and walked away.”

Vital as the narration may be, it’s the artwork that underscores the poignancy of Kitaro’s situation. Mizuki draws the Leviathing in a dramatically different fashion when viewed from below than when viewed close-up: from the perspective of a human bystander, the Leviathing is monstrous, with an enormous, gaping mouth and short, grasping arms. Up close, however, he’s a gentle creature, capable of frowning, sighing, and shedding tears. These close-ups help remind us that it’s Kitaro trapped inside this destructive body, unable to communicate with humans or yokai; there’s simply no place for a giant prehistoric creature in such a thoroughly urbanized landscape, a point underscored by the military’s brutal efforts to eradicate Kitaro by driving him out to sea.

Although “The Leviathing” may strike readers as a sci-fi romp and not a ghost story, it illustrates one of the series’ most important themes: displacement. In many of the Kitaro stories, he struggles to find a place for himself — and his yokai friends — in an increasingly modernized world. As Jonathan Clements observes,

Mizuki was one of the first manga creators to deal with the rush of modernity, depicting Japanese ghosts largely as peaceful, gentle creatures forced into action by the encroachment of human civilisation on their remote, secluded places of haunting. In particular, he cited electric light as the main nemesis of spirits from the otherworld, giving his stories an elegiac quality that celebrates Japanese folktale traditions, even as he laments their passing.

Readers familiar with GeGeGe no Kitaro from its numerous film and television adaptations may find the bilingual edition a frustrating introduction to the manga, as many of the series’ colorful supporting players — Daddy Eyeball, Catchick, and The Sand Witch — play minor-to-nonexistent roles in the first volume. Readers interested in manga’s history, however, will find the first volume of the bilingual edition a fascinating window into the pre-war Japanese entertainment industry, offering English-speakers a hint of the stories and storytelling practices that once enchanted Japanese audiences on street corners around the country. Below, you’ll find a short bibliography of articles and books about Kitaro and kamishibai, should you wish to learn more about this famous character’s roots.

For Further Reading

Clements, Jonathan. “Spooky Ooky.” Schoolgirl Milky Crisis. 13 September 2010. <http://schoolgirlmilkycrisis.com/blog/?p=1710>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Kobayashi, Kenji and Kelly Yamamoto. “Kamishibai Theater.” Japanese American National Museum. <http://www.janm.org/janmkids/kamishibai.php>. Accessed 11/7/11.

Kyogoku, Natsuhiko. “Afterword.” GeGeGe no Kitaro, Vol. 1. Trans. Ralph F. McCarthy. New York: Kodansha International, 2002. 123-25.

McCarthy, Helen. “Spooky Kitaro’s Sixth Generation.” Suite 101. 6 May 2008. <http://helen-mccarthy.suite101.com/spooky-kitaros-sixth-generation-a52997>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Nash, Eric. Manga Kamishibai: The Art of Japanese Paper Theater. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.

Manga Artifacts: GeGeGe no Kitaro

by

From the early 1920s through the late 1950s, before television became a fixture in Japanese homes, audiences flocked to kamishibai performances on street corners and parks around the country. A kamishibaiya (storyteller) would pedal from village to village with a butai (small wooden stage) perched on the back of his bicycle. When he arrived in a new community, he would click two sticks together to announce his presence, selling candy to the growing assembly of children. He would then show the audience a series of colorfully painted panels that told a story in much the same fashion as a comic book, narrating as he removed them one at a time from the butai.

At the height of its popularity in the 1930s, nearly five million people attended kamishibai performances every day. There were kamishibai for every demographic: sentimental tales about kittens and orphans for girls, adventure stories about masked heroes and mountaineers for boys, and pulpy mysteries and historical dramas for adults. A small army of artists and writers cranked out new installments of popular stories such as Golden Bat, Tiger Boy, Prince Gamma, and Cry of the Andes, providing an important training ground for such postwar manga-ka as Kazuo Koike, Sanpei Shirato, and Shigeru Mizuki.

A contemporary kamishibaiya performs in front of a butai.

Mizuki’s best-known comic, GeGeGe no Kitaro, traces its roots to the 1930s, when kamishibaiya around Japan performed Hakaba no Kitaro, a supernatural tale about a yokai boy who lived in a graveyard. Though Mizuki didn’t create Kitaro, he was responsible for adapting Hakaba no Kitaro into manga form, publishing his first Kitaro stories for the akabon (rental comics) market in 1959. Kitaro eventually found a home at Weekly Shonen Magazine in 1966, where the editors renamed it GeGeGe no Kitaro. Kitaro proved immensely popular, spawning animated television shows, feature-length movies, and video games, not to mention numerous manga sequels in Shonen Sunday, Shonen Action, and Shukan Jitsuwa.

Despite its immense popularity in Japan, none of the GeGeGe no Kitaro manga have been licensed for the North American market. In 2002, Kodansha International hired Ralph McCarthy to translate a handful of the Weekly Shonen Magazine stories, collecting them in three bilingual editions. Those volumes are scarce — at least on this side of the Pacific — although I was able to snag the first on eBay for less than $20. (Caveat emptor: Some Amazon retailers are asking as much as $345.00 for a single volume of the Kodansha Bilingual Comics edition.)

Looking through the pages of volume one, the story’s roots in kamishibai are apparent. The first chapter, “Ghost Train,” is a classic example of comeuppance theater: after two Tokyo businessmen abuse Kitaro and his sidekick Ratman, the men find themselves aboard a mysterious train whose final destination is Tama-reien (Tama Cemetery). The pacing suggests a story told at a campfire, allowing the audience to savor the word play (all the stops on the Tama-reien line have eerie names), the description of the passengers, and the two businessmen’s growing sense of terror. Though the pictures carry the weight of the storytelling, Mizuki uses an omniscient narrator to heighten the reader’s awareness of sound. “The skeleton-thin attendant blew his flute, and a tram came screeching into the station like a rickety hearse,” the narrator informs us. “The door rattled open like the door to a crematorium.”

The narrator serves another important purpose as well, filling in the gap between images, just as a kamishibayai would have done in the 1930s. Towards the end of the story, for example, the two men decide to leap from the train, rather than ride it to its final destination. Mizuki draws their awkward jump, then cuts to an image of the ghost train speeding along a dark track, barely distinguishable from the night sky and grassy wasteland it traverses. “Their heads cracked against something hard — rocks, perhaps,” the narrator explains. “A wail of agony splits the air, then all was silence once again.” This statement proves essential to setting up the story’s punchline, bringing the men’s ordeal to a dramatically suggestive end that is deftly clarified in the last four panels.

The second chapter, “The Leviathing,” owes a debt to such kamishibai mainstays as Golden Bat and Prince Gamma, serial adventures that freely mixed elements of science fiction, mystery, and fantasy. In “Leviathing,” Kitaro joins a scientific expedition to New Guinea, where an unscrupulous scientist injects Kitaro with a prehistoric animal’s blood, transforming Kitaro into a hairy, seven-story beast with the head of a whale and the body of a yeti.

As in “Ghost Train,” an omniscent narrator plays an important role in advancing the story, describing the changes in setting, and revealing the limitations of Kitaro’s new form. “Kitaro tried to yell, ‘Father!’, but all that came out was the Leviathing’s roar,” the narrator intones. “He put down his frightened father and walked away.”

Vital as the narration may be, it’s the artwork that underscores the poignancy of Kitaro’s situation. Mizuki draws the Leviathing in a dramatically different fashion when viewed from below than when viewed close-up: from the perspective of a human bystander, the Leviathing is monstrous, with an enormous, gaping mouth and short, grasping arms. Up close, however, he’s a gentle creature, capable of frowning, sighing, and shedding tears. These close-ups help remind us that it’s Kitaro trapped inside this destructive body, unable to communicate with humans or yokai; there’s simply no place for a giant prehistoric creature in such a thoroughly urbanized landscape, a point underscored by the military’s brutal efforts to eradicate Kitaro by driving him out to sea.

Although “The Leviathing” may strike readers as a sci-fi romp and not a ghost story, it illustrates one of the series’ most important themes: displacement. In many of the Kitaro stories, he struggles to find a place for himself — and his yokai friends — in an increasingly modernized world. As Jonathan Clements observes,

Mizuki was one of the first manga creators to deal with the rush of modernity, depicting Japanese ghosts largely as peaceful, gentle creatures forced into action by the encroachment of human civilisation on their remote, secluded places of haunting. In particular, he cited electric light as the main nemesis of spirits from the otherworld, giving his stories an elegiac quality that celebrates Japanese folktale traditions, even as he laments their passing.

Readers familiar with GeGeGe no Kitaro from its numerous film and television adaptations may find the bilingual edition a frustrating introduction to the manga, as many of the series’ colorful supporting players — Daddy Eyeball, Catchick, and The Sand Witch — play minor-to-nonexistent roles in the first volume. Readers interested in manga’s history, however, will find the first volume of the bilingual edition a fascinating window into the pre-war Japanese entertainment industry, offering English-speakers a hint of the stories and storytelling practices that once enchanted Japanese audiences on street corners around the country. Below, you’ll find a short bibliography of articles and books about Kitaro and kamishibai, should you wish to learn more about this famous character’s roots.

For Further Reading

Clements, Jonathan. “Spooky Ooky.” Schoolgirl Milky Crisis. 13 September 2010. <http://schoolgirlmilkycrisis.com/blog/?p=1710>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Kobayashi, Kenji and Kelly Yamamoto. “Kamishibai Theater.” Japanese American National Museum. <http://www.janm.org/janmkids/kamishibai.php>. Accessed 11/7/11.

Kyogoku, Natsuhiko. “Afterword.” GeGeGe no Kitaro, Vol. 1. Trans. Ralph F. McCarthy. New York: Kodansha International, 2002. 123-25.

McCarthy, Helen. “Spooky Kitaro’s Sixth Generation.” Suite 101. 6 May 2008. <http://helen-mccarthy.suite101.com/spooky-kitaros-sixth-generation-a52997>. Accessed 11/6/11.

Nash, Eric. Manga Kamishibai: The Art of Japanese Paper Theater. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.

Pick of the Week: X

by , , , and 4 Comments

With power finally restored to the entire Battle Robot, everyone’s on board with a pick this week, though the robot’s leaning heavily in one particular direction.

MJ: We’ve got an odd assortment of manga coming it to Midtown Comics this week. I have half a mind to recommend volume two of Bandai’s Tales of the Abyss: Asch the Bloody since I had such a surprisingly enjoyable experience with the first. But pretty pictures and beautiful production win my heart this week, as I choose the first of Viz’s 3-in-1 editions of CLAMP’s shoujo battle-fest, X. Admittedly, I’m a much bigger fan of X‘s shorter, more intimate predecessor, Tokyo Babylon, and I think I’ve failed to appreciate the allure of X‘s larger, sweeping drama and penchant for destruction. But with this new 3-in-1, Viz has provided a package that’s impossible for me to ignore. This book is gorgeous, with its thick, glossy cover (love the new, minimalist design), crisp, white paper, and delicious color pages preceding each volume. It’s a delight to behold, and I am really looking forward to giving X a second chance to win me over with these particular attributes in its favor.

DAVID: It’s strange that I’m finding myself so drawn to CLAMP as I settle into middle age. That seems just wrong, but there’s no denying that it’s so. I’m utterly taken with Gate 7 (also Dark Horse), and now I find myself seconding MJ’s choice of the X 3-in-1 from Viz. As I’ve noted, it’s probably the CLAMP-iest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s made somewhat special by the fact that there’s tons and tons of violence. It probably won’t hold a place of honor on my shelves in years to come, but I’ll certainly read the rest of it.

KATE: Looking at this week’s shipping list makes me feel like I took a ride in Mister Peabody’s WABAC machine, with new volumes of X and InuYasha arriving on store shelves. And though I’m tempted to be a contrarian and recommend, say, Yakuza Cafe (DMP) just for the sake of variety, my vote also goes for X. The new edition boasts a new translation, a bigger trim size, and almost six hundred pages of story per volume, all of which enhance the reading experience. And if you’re the kind of reader who cares passionately about extras, you’ll be pleased to discover that VIZ has included a generous selection of glossy, full-color pinups from various points in the series’ run.

MICHELLE: I certainly intend to snap up the X 3-in-1 edition, but since ample reasons for doing so have been ably supplied by my cohorts, I’ll cast my vote for the second volume of Kazuma Kodaka’s Bad Teacher’s Equation. Okay, so I haven’t exactly finished reading the first volume yet—these books are chunky!—but I am a big fan of Kodaka’s Kizuna, so I’m familiar with her style. In looks and execution, Kizuna is very different from most of the other BL coming out in English, and I am excited to dig deeper into Bad Teacher’s Equation and follow up with Border, two Kodaka series more recently announced by DMP.

SEAN: Too many people have already picked X. So I’m exercising my right to say I had no power last week and picking a title from last week’s list, namely the 11th volume of Kimi ni Todoke. As I noted in my post on last week’s books, it’s always a treat when a couple get together and the series continues on, seeing how well their relationship holds up after the big fireworks. Plus the supporting cast of this series is top notch – this volume in particular has one of my favorite Yano scenes in the whole series, and unsurprisingly it also involves Pin. Just really nice and heartwarming, in all the best ways.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs, 11/7/11

by , , and 4 Comments

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

Black Bird, Vol. 11 | By Kanoko Sakurakoji | VIZ Media – Reading the newest installment of Black Bird, I can see why the series has been a perennial bestseller: the cast is comprised of achingly beautiful young men in yukatas, all of whom are captivated by the heroine. The story, too, has crack potential, as it involves demon clan warfare, fragile political alliances, age-old prophecies, and sex. What’s missing is a compelling heroine. Eleven volumes into Black Bird, Misao remains as helpless as she did in the very first chapters, enduring Kyo’s grouchy, possessive behavior, an enemy’s memory-erasing spells, and other demons’ violent attempts to drink her blood. Adding insult to injury is the author’s insistence that Kyo is really a good, soulful person underneath his brusque exterior, a side of his personality that only Misao can see. As someone who’s old enough to have dated a few jerks, I find that kind of relationship as tedious on paper as it is in real life, even if the lead character is a handsome male tengu. – Katherine Dacey

A Bride’s Story, Vol. 2 | By Kaoru Mori | Yen Press – I had argued that I found the first volume of A Bride’s Story very well-done, but a bit cold, like looking at a piece of art in a museum. I’m pleased to say that Volume 2 draws me in a lot more. Amir still tends to be a cipher at times, but the author compensates for that by pairing her with more emotional characters – the hotheaded and perpetually frustrated Pariya, or her youthful husband Karluk, with whom she gets probably the best two scenes in the book. But there’s more action here as well, as Amir’s family come to take her back so they can forge a better relationship with less savory neighbors. Seeing the townspeople riding up to protect her is awesome – indeed, Amir has trouble taking it all in. Even Dr. Smith, who seemed to be the comedy Westerner in Volume 1, gets some excellent depth here, and I do wonder if we’ll be seeing more of him in future volumes. Indeed, the author’s notes hint we might see the focus change to other brides? I hope not – Amir’s story still needs closure.– Sean Gaffney

Fairy Tail, Vol. 15 | By Hiro Mashima | Kodansha Comics – As with many shonen mangas of its type, this volume of Fairy Tail is taken up with a lot of battles, as the Laxus fights come to their natural conclusion. This gives Erza another chance to be awesome, of course, and shows that Fairy Tail’s camaraderie and willingness to work together will always trump a quest for sheer power like Laxus has gone through. But I expect, despite the fact that the fights are of decent quality and the characterization decent, everyone will be discussing the Ass Pull of a character return we get with Mystogan’s real identity. If it were deconstructed, such as with Cross Game, it might be decent, but we get the reveal and then the character simply walks away – the whole scene reads like a ratings grabber for sweeps time, and sucks the soul out of much of the book. Oh well, the rest of it is fairly solid. I hope the arc wraps up in the next volume, though. – Sean Gaffney

Grand Guignol Orchestra, Vol. 5 | By Kaori Yuki | VIZ Media – The fifth and final volume of Grand Guignol Orchestra is a gorgeous mess. Though Kaori Yuki’s artwork remains as attractive as ever, she still hasn’t mastered the art of bringing her stories to a satisfying conclusion. The series’ penultimate scene is a long, confusing sequence of double-crosses, overwrought speeches, and bolt-from-the-blue revelations that make little sense even within the parameters of the Grand Guignol universe. A more sedate epilogue ties up the loose ends, hinting of what Yuki is capable of doing when she dials down the histrionics. The volume is rounded out with a lengthy story, “Camelot Garden,” which quotes liberally from Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot,” to diminishing returns. – Katherine Dacey

Natsume’s Book of Friends, Vol. 10 | By Yuki Midorikawa | VIZ Media – The latest volume of Natsume’s Book of Friends features two longer stories. In the first, “False Friend,” a bully from Natsume’s past returns when he suspects that he’s had an encounter with the supernatural, while in the second, “The Harvest Festival,” Natsume must rescue a guardian spirit who’s been sealed inside a rock. Both stories are well-executed, with crack pacing, memorable demons, and just enough ambiguity to keep the reading guessing at the outcome, even though Natsume’s fundamental decency is never in doubt. As an added bonus, Yuki Midorikawa’s artwork is improving steadily with each volume, yielding some simple but astonishing images. Recommended. – Katherine Dacey

Pandora Hearts, Vol. 7 | By Jun Mochizuki | Yen Press – After a seemingly random detour to Lutwidge Academy (the school attended by Oz’s sister) provides information about “the tragedy of Sablier,” Pandora Hearts resumes its original mission, with Oz determined to learn the truth about why he was sent to the Abyss and his companion, Alice, renewing her search for her missing memories, even though they may be too traumatic to bear. Sometimes this series is hard to follow—this volume certainly contains a few abrupt segues—but it continues to deliver on character arcs. Sure, Oz’s desire to grow stronger pretty generic, but I quite like the plight of his childhood friend, Gilbert, who faces a future where his aid is less useful to Oz, and newish character Elliot has some intriguing potential as well. Add in a bit of background for enigmatic and eccentric Break, and this is quite a satisfying volume! – Michelle Smith

Soul Eater, Vol. 7 | By Atsushi Ohkubo | Yen Press – This volume is less exciting than the previous ones, mostly as the last arc has ended and the author is taking his time setting up the new one. This is not to say there is nothing of interest, though. Soul Eater continues to appeal to me for its artistic design, which manages to combine funny and creepy better than anyone else – even Franken Fran should take lessons from Ohkubo. After Medusa, Arachnae seems underwhelming so far, but she’s only just established herself. Not to mention that Medusa – or at least hallucinations of her – isn’t far away, and I wonder what Stein will do. The biggest surprise of the series to date, though, is seeing Crona join the side of the good guys – despite remaining a twitching mess, and still having that double personality of a weapon inside him/her. It’s a testament to Maka’s friendship building skills that Crona’s trying at all. And it wouldn’t be Soul Eater without at least one drop-dead funny scene – Marie’s introduction, and her decision to marry a toilet, immediately tells us that she is a Christmas Cake of the finest kind, and I hope she gets more to do later. Great fun, even if this volume is ‘shifting gears’ more than ‘constant thrills’. – Sean Gaffney

The Story of Saiunkoku, Vol. 5 | By Kairi Yura and Sai Yukino | VIZ Media – Much as I love this series, this volume is kind of a mess in terms of storytelling. It starts with a pleasant-enough but forgettable sequence with its heroine, Shurei, suffering from a cold and her devoted circle of men trying to make her feel better while dealing with their own rivalries. It’s cute, but it feels like a side story in a series where volumes usually launch strongly. The main story introduces a heap of plot elements too quickly, from the impending civil service exam to the nation’s criminal underworld to an admittedly awesome courtesan of Shurei’s acquaintance. The characters still shine through all of the clutter, but I missed the focused clarity of previous story arcs. It felt less like a complete reading experience than previous volumes. On the bright side, Yura does maintain the admirable level of prettiness she’s always brought to her illustrations. – David Welsh

Yotsuba&!, Vol. 10 | By Kiyohiko Azuma | Yen Press – The tag line of this series, “Enjoy everything,” pretty much says it all. Readers get the opportunity to follow an energetic, quirky kid through the average moments of her life. She hangs out with friends, family, and neighbors. She invents games, makes pancakes, goes shopping, and occasionally misbehaves. Azuma’s grasp of kid logic elevates the material from being simply identifiable to hitting some wonderful comic highs. When she gets a picture book with animal stickers in it, her delight manifests itself very specifically: “Ohhh… this is a lifesaver.” That’s funny, because it isn’t something you’d expect a kid to say, but it’s extra funny, because you can absolutely see a kid saying it. That’s Azuma’s specialty: a grounded approach that finds the little bits of weirdness in everyday life, going easy on the outright sentiment while still investing everything with a heartfelt quality. It’s kind of magical. – David Welsh

Yotsuba&!, Vol. 10 | By Kiyohiko Azuma | Yen Press – It’s hard to know how to review a volume of Yotsuba&!. I mean, it’s just sweet, y’know? There’s just lots of moments in this volume that are simply worth reading. Jumbo’s reaction to seeing photos of Asagi and Koiwai at the balloon fair; Asagi’s casual cruelty towards Fuuka when she lends Yotsuba the medicine ball; Fuuka showing that she may actually be the most eccentric one in the cast, rather than Yotsuba; Yotsuba’s frustration over not making perfect pancakes, and Miura’s frustration later on knowing that she may have to play Danbo FOREVER. The best chapter, though, is the one where Yotsuba panicked after breaking some dishes, lies about how it happened. What follows is pure beauty, with Yotsuba digging herself deeper and deeper and her father managing to brilliantly resolve things without yelling at her – in fact, his passive terrifying may be the best deterrent there is. Heck, even Yanda is tolerable here (though he’s still a jerk). Great series.– Sean Gaffney

Yotsuba&!, Vol. 10 | By Kiyohiko Azuma | Yen Press – It’s been nearly a year since I last read a volume of Yotsuba&!, and that was definitely way too long. I dove into this volume with relish and happily found that the first chapter, “Yotsuba & Playtime,” is quintessential Yotsuba&!, showing the title character at her most imaginative and her father at his most patient, even when her behavior borders on obnoxious. And, indeed, the fact that Yotsuba is capable of sulking and lying actually makes her adventures all the more wonderful because, in addition to ringing true, these moments give her father a chance to shine as he makes sure she learns the right lessons. He’s an intriguing guy and a terrific dad and I hope that whenever this series comes to an end we’ll get a glimpse of the kind of grown-up Yotsuba turned out to be thanks to his loving guidance. – Michelle Smith

Show Us Your Stuff: Myrah’s Tower of CLAMP

by 25 Comments

Welcome to the latest installment of Show Us Your Stuff! Today’s contributor is Myrah, an educator-in-training who’s passionate about books, baking, and CLAMP. Her collection is modest but catholic, and includes some rare Antique Bakery doujinshi. Here’s what this very busy woman had to say about her growing manga library.

Hello! I’m an undergraduate working on a major in English and minors in Education and Asian Studies. I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing and I’ve wanted to be a teacher for as long as I can remember. My decision to pursue Asian Studies is a more recent thing, partly influenced by my love for manga, and partly by my general interest in World History. I’m working on my Chinese and will hopefully study abroad in China for a semester in the near future.

I don’t have much free time between class and working as a teacher’s aide, but when I do I like to bake yummy things, ride my bike, and pet my cats. Besides my manga collection, I also have a rather large library of novels, anthologies, plays, non-fiction, and other graphic novels. Simply put, I love books!

What was your first manga?
That would be Sailor Moon, which is kind of strange because I never saw the anime. My sister (who doesn’t like books, let alone manga) borrowed the first few volumes from a girl on her school bus, and since I read everything I came across back then, I gobbled them up. I wound up buying most of the series, but sadly sold it years ago. I was very happy to hear Kodansha would be re-releasing it. (But I still haven’t seen the anime…)…

Read More

Pick of the Week: Sayonara, Mardock, Dorothy

by , , and 2 Comments

Dark Horse and Kodansha Comics dominate this week at Midtown Comics. Check out the Battle Robot’s picks below!

SEAN: It’s a fairly small week this time round, and so I’m glad to devote my pick of the week to the 11th volume of Sayonara, Zetsubou-sensei. There are lots of comedic manga out there that use gags to drive their humor, but they always seem troubled by silly things like plot and character development. Zetsubou has none of that, and so is free to do anything anytime it wants – the main character has been murdered several times by now. And, like the best negative continuity series, it doesn’t cause you to stop caring – Chiri is still fun to watch even if she’s an insane shovel-killer, just as it never gets old seeing Itoshiki moan on about his latest modern issue. And even if it’s packed with obscure Japanese pop-culture references every week, it’s still funny without knowing what they are. Glad it’s hit double-digits.

MJ: It is a small week indeed, and though there are a few things on the list I plan to buy (including Sayonara, Zetsubou-sensei), I’ll give my pick this week to the second volume of the manga adaptation of Mardock Scramble. Here’s what I said about the first volume: “Novel adaptations are hit-and-miss with me.Too often, I think they try to rush the story, or try too hard to be visually thrilling (especially in terms of fanservice) when really they just need to practice good storytelling. But I’m on the edge of my seat with this one. There’s still a lot to be revealed, and mangaka Yoshitoki Oima has left us with quite a bit of mystery (and a pretty big cliffhanger) at the end of the series’ first volume, but I’ve been given enough to be pretty well hooked.” I’m pretty anxious to pick this up.

KATE: Since I’m not following any of the titles on the list, I’m going to recommend the second issue of Skottie Young and Eric Shanower’s Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz (Marvel). Young and Shanower’s Oz comics have been a revelation: they follow the plot and spirit of the original Oz novels, but the playful artwork, vivid color palette, and brisk pacing really bring these books to life — in fact, I’d much rather read these Marvel adaptations than the source material that inspired them! If the title of Young and Shanower’s latest collaboration doesn’t ring a bell, you might find this Wikipedia entry helpful; it was the fourth book in Baum’s series, and certain plot details were inspired by the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. It isn’t the best or most interesting of the Oz books, but the comic-book adaptation is delightful nonetheless.

MICHELLE: And I’ll bring us back ’round full circle by seconding Sean’s pick of Sayonara, Zetsubou-sensei‘s eleventh volume. I just completed a lengthy catch-up effort with this quirky comedy and am looking forward to remaining current henceforth. As Sean notes, Itoshiki’s various rants are still amusing even when one doesn’t catch many of the esoteric references, but I like the series best when it’s at its most universal. Recent volumes have supplied ample chapters that anyone can relate to, and I hope the trend continues in future. Koji Kumeta’s clean and stylish art is also a treat, as are most of the recurring gags. I still feel really sorry for that poor dog, though.

Readers, what looks good to you?

Bookshelf Briefs 10/24/11

by , , , and 3 Comments

This week, David, Kate, MJ, Michelle, & Sean take a look at recent releases from NBM/Comics Lit, Viz Media, Kodansha Comics, and Vertical, Inc.

Black Jack, Vol. 16 | By Osamu Tezuka | Vertical, Inc. – One of the many great things about Black Jack is that it keeps giving me new reasons to praise it, even in its penultimate volume. The quality that really asserts itself in this volume is the tremendous variety of story types Tezuka provides. There’s sentimental romance, creepy revenge drama, potentially lethal hubris, fraternal turmoil, and, in a dazzling, extra-long piece, a blend of baffling medical mystery, religious argument, and geopolitical drama all in one. It’s hard to think of a series that provides better volume-to-volume value than Black Jack, especially when you consider Tezuka’s bodacious skills as an entertainer and his seemingly limitless ambition as an artist. Yes, his long-form pieces are breathtaking, but you get a fuller sense of his genius when you see what he can do with 20-odd pulp-infused pages. And you get a great deal of entertainment along the way. What more could you ask? – David Welsh

Blue Exorcist, Vol. 4 | By Kazue Kato | VIZ Media – Unusually for a Jump manga, the fighting is not really drawing me into Blue Exorcist – it’s straight out of the Boy’s Book of Shonen. What is interesting here is Rin’s continual struggle against revealing his powers, and the reaction of everyone else once they do get revealed. It’s clearly a long-term plot – to our surprise, his friends do not immediately say “Oh, it’s OK, you’re just Rin to us”, but seem genuinely unnerved that Rin is the son of Satan. It’s a reminder that this is not something to be taken lightly in this series, and that Satan is not just a wacky final end boss. Meanwhile, Mephisto continues to show why he’s one of the better ‘playing all sides against one another’ long planners, and Shura and Yukio have a nicely developing relationship. As always, it’s the characters that make a series likeable. – Sean Gaffney

House of Five Leaves, Vol. 4 | By Natsume Ono | VIZ Media – With a delicate web of relationships already in place, it doesn’t immediately strike me as profitable for Ono to introduce a significant newcomer to her beguilingly battered gang of kidnappers. Given the new character’s puckish youth, it’s not unreasonable to detect a bit of Cousin Oliver Syndrome in play. But while the arrival of Ginta, a self-declared negotiator, seems a bit improvisational, it ends up moving the narrative forward in some satisfying and unexpected ways. Ginta is bright and observant, but he’s also got a reservoir of bitterness and distrust, so he fits right in with the damaged goods of the Five Leaves. He also disrupts their very controlled methodology and adds to the mounting worries of their leader, Yaichi. My conclusion is that, while Ono may not have every beat and twist of this story mapped out in advance, she’s got a very sure hand on the tone that story evokes. Highly recommended. – David Welsh

Mameshiba ♥ Winter | By Traci N. Todd and Thomas Flintham | VIZ Media – Based on the original characters by Sukwon Kim, Mameshiba ♥ Winter follows the adventures of a collection of adorable creatures (some kind of cross between beans and dogs) as they attempt to build the perfect snow castle. This is a children’s picture book, short on plot (well, short in general) and geared towards activity more than reading overall. Only twelve pages long, the real focus of the book is a pop-up snow castle at the end and a selection of pop-out Mameshiba, complete with ornamental stickers. None of the Mameshiba are well-introduced here, so previous familiarity with the franchise is recommended, especially for kids on the older end of its target audience, who might otherwise wondering who all these characters are. Though the story seems unsubstantial, even for a picture book, it’s pretty difficult not to be charmed by the super-cute Mameshiba. Lighthearted activity for a snowy afternoon. – MJ

Psyren, Vol. 1 | By Toshiaki Iwashiro | VIZ Media – Gantz with training wheels — that’s how I’d describe this mediocre addition to the Shonen Jump line. Like Gantz, Psyren deposits a large and varied cast of characters in an alternate reality, forcing them to participate in a contest reminiscent of a video game. The winners live to play another day; the losers die in gruesome fashion, often after disregarding advice from the story’s youthful hero. Though Psyren isn’t nearly as slick or violent as Gantz, it does have one big advantage over its seinen big brother: Amamiya, who turns out to be one of the toughest, smartest participants in the game, showing her male peers that true grit isn’t necessarily about physical strength or speed (though she’s pretty handy with a sword). The art is serviceable, but not particularly memorable, an observation that could be extended to the script and characters as well. – Katherine Dacey

Skip Beat!, Vol. 25 | By Yoshiki Nakamura | VIZ Media – First off, thanks to Viz for not licensing Tokyo Crazy Paradise, so I can make that “from the creator of” joke for at least another few months. Now for the main event. Clearly Kyoko and Ren will be the final couple whenever Skip Beat! decides to end, but I have to admit I still find Sho the more fascinating of the two lead males. I don’t *like* him more than Ren, but there’s a fantastic cunning to him, and he’s never more at his best than when he’s burning with jealous hatred. His move here to get Kyoko to think of only him is brilliant in its godawful dickishness, and Ren’s response, whiole very sweet, doesn’t quite pack the same emotional punch. I actually preferred Ren threatening Kyoko – a nice reminder of his true feelings. All this plus some cute Moko scenes. Now that Valentine’s is over, what’s next? – Sean Gaffney

Stargazing Dog | By Takashi Murakami | NBM Comics Lit – I may be a cat person, but I am certainly not immune to the touching tale of a good-hearted and grateful dog who is faithful to his master until the very end. Christened “Happie” by the little girl who plucked him out of a cardboard box, the cheerful dog chronicles the gradual changes in his owners’ lives, culminating in a divorce and a seaward journey with “Daddy,” who gradually loses what little possessions he has left. The outcome of the story is made clear from the beginning, but that doesn’t make what transpires any less poignant. My one complaint—setting aside the various typos plaguing the volume—is that NBM chose to flip the art. Backwards signage and sound effects are distracting enough on their own, but when dialogue expressly states that they’re keeping the sea on their left and when it is subsequenly shown to be on their right, it’s downright annoying. – Michelle Smith

The Wallflower, Vol. 26 | By Tomoko Hayakawa | Kodansha Comics – In case anyone is still reading this in order to get some romantic resolution, please. Stop. You’re only hurting yourself. There is no development here, the author has admitted she has no idea how to romantically resolve anything, and all we have is comedy hijinks we’ve seen before. That said, it’s pleasant enough – there’s nothing egregiously bad about this volume, and once you place your desires in park, it can be quite fun. The best chapter is probably the final one, where some boys from class use Sunako’s creepiness as part of a plan to excuse their bad grades – it’s a nice parody of the power of parent organizations. The worst chapter is the one with Sunako’s aunt, which contains not one thing we haven’t seen before. If you buy things out of pure inertia, you’ll still enjoy this. If you don’t, you likely dropped it long ago. – Sean Gaffney

Gate 7, Vol. 1

by 23 Comments

I have good news and bad news for CLAMP fans. The good news is that Gate 7 is one of the best-looking manga the quartet has produced, on par with Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles and xxxHolic. The bad news is that Gate 7‘s first volume is very bumpy, with long passages of expository dialogue and several false starts. Whether you’ll want to ride out the first three chapters will depend largely on your reaction to the artwork: if you love it, you may find enough visual stimulation to sustain to your interest while the plot and characters take shape; if you don’t, you may find the harried pacing and repetitive jokes a high hurdle to clear.

Art-wise, Gate 7 most closely resembles Tsubasa. The character designs are elegantly stylized, rendered in delicate lines; though their proportions have been gently elongated, their physiques are less giraffe-like than the principle characters in Legal Drug and xxxHolic. The same sensibility informs the action scenes as well, where CLAMP uses thin, sensual linework to suggest the energy unleashed during magical combat. (Readers familiar with Magic Knight Rayearth will see affinities between the two series, especially in the fight sequences.) Perhaps the most striking thing about the artwork is its imaginative use of water and light to evoke the supernatural. As Zack Davisson observes in his review of Gate 7, CLAMP uses a subtle but lovely image to shift the action from present-day Kyoto to the spirit realm, depicting the characters as stones in the water, with soft ripples radiating outward from each figure….

Read More

Gate 7, Vol. 1

by

I have good news and bad news for CLAMP fans. The good news is that Gate 7 is one of the best-looking manga the quartet has produced, on par with Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles and xxxHolic. The bad news is that Gate 7‘s first volume is very bumpy, with long passages of expository dialogue and several false starts. Whether you’ll want to ride out the first three chapters will depend largely on your reaction to the artwork: if you love it, you may find enough visual stimulation to sustain to your interest while the plot and characters take shape; if you don’t, you may find the harried pacing and repetitive jokes a high hurdle to clear.

Art-wise, Gate 7 most closely resembles Tsubasa. The character designs are elegantly stylized, rendered in delicate lines; though their proportions have been gently elongated, their physiques are less giraffe-like than the principle characters in Legal Drug and xxxHolic. The same sensibility informs the action scenes as well, where CLAMP uses thin, sensual linework to suggest the energy unleashed during magical combat. (Readers familiar with Magic Knight Rayearth will see affinities between the two series, especially in the fight sequences.) Perhaps the most striking thing about the artwork is its imaginative use of water and light to evoke the supernatural. As Zack Davisson observes in his review of Gate 7, CLAMP uses a subtle but lovely image to shift the action from present-day Kyoto to the spirit realm, depicting the characters as stones in the water, with soft ripples radiating outward from each figure.

The story, however, is less satisfying. The plot revolves around high school student Chikahito Takamoto, a timid dreamer who’s obsessed with Kyoto as a place of “history, ancient arts, temples, and shrines.” While exploring the Kitano Tenmangu Shrine, Chikahito is transported to an alternate dimension, where he encounters three warriors: Sakura, Tachibana, and Hana, an androgynously beautiful, child-like figure who possesses even greater spiritual power than the other two. Chikahito watches the trio dismantle a ribbon-like serpent, but before he can question what he’s seen, poof! he finds himself eating noodles with them in a Kyoto apartment as Sakura and Tachibana debate the ethics of erasing Chikahito’s memory.

Hana astonishes Chikahito with an awesome display of power.

The biggest problem with this introductory section is that the subsequent chapter traces a nearly identical trajectory: Chikahito returns to Kyoto, encounters Hana in the streets, then is whisked onto the spirit-plane for another round of magical combat. As soon as the monster is defeated, Chikahito once again finds himself eating a meal with Hana, Sakura, and Tachibana. (This time around, however, they gang-press him into cooking and cleaning for them.) CLAMP even recycles the same gags from the prelude: Hana’s fragile appearance belies a monstrous appetite for noodles, an incongruity CLAMP mines for humor long past the point of being funny.

Other problems prevent Gate 7 from taking flight in its early pages. As we begin to learn more about the Kitano Tenmagu Shrine, for example, various characters take turns explaining its history. These narratives are clearly intended to set the table for a more complex plotline, but have the unintended consequence of stopping the story dead in its tracks. The script also makes some maddening detours into mystical clap-trap; in trying to understand how the seemingly ordinary Chikahito can enter the supernatural realm, characters lapse into Yoda-speak. “We’re alike,” Hana informs Chikahito. When asked, “In what areas?” Hana cheerfully replies, “In areas that are… ‘not.’ Where he’s the same is… ‘not.'”

The most disappointing aspect of Gate 7 is the flimsiness of the characterizations. CLAMP seems to be relying on readers’ familiarity with other titles — Cardcaptor Sakura, Chobits, Tsuaba, xxxHolic — in establishing each character’s personality and role in the drama. Hana, for example, slots into the Mokona role: Hana refers to himself (herself?) in the third person, repeats pet phrases, and behaves like a glutton, yet proves surprisingly powerful. Chikahito, on the other hand, is a carbon copy of xxxHolic‘s Watanuki, a nervous, bespectacled everyman who unwittingly becomes the housekeeper and magical errand-boy for more supernaturally gifted beings. The frantic pace and abrupt transitions between the mundane and supernatural world further complicate the process of establishing Hana and Chikahito as individuals; with so much material stuffed into the first two hundred pages, CLAMP leans too heavily on tics and mannerisms to carry the burden of the characterization. (Cute finger-wagging does not a character make.)

The dramatic introduction of a new character in the volume’s final pages suggests that CLAMP may finally be hitting its stride in chapter four. As promising as this development may be, I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m reading a Potemkin manga, all surface detail and no depth. Let’s hope volume two proves me wrong.

GATE 7, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • DARK HORSE • 192 pp. • NO RATING

Pick of the Week: Post-NYCC

by , , , and 7 Comments

In the aftermath of New York Comic Con, we have no Bookshelf Briefs to offer this week, but we did manage to pull together a quick Pick of the Week! Check out our picks from this week’s haul at Midtown Comics below.

MICHELLE: Faced with yet another tough choice this week, I ultimately decided to award my pick to the seventh volume of Jun Mochizuki’s Pandora Hearts. Volume one introduced so many story elements at once that it left me baffled, but I’m glad I gave the story another chance because it has coalesced into an affecting tale with genuinely intriguing characters. True, volume six, wherein the gang heads off to visit the little sister of protagonist Oz—who, thanks to her brother’s stint in another dimension, is now older than him—at school and meets some new characters was not my favorite, but I have faith that it will lead somewhere interesting. That’s why I will most assuredly be picking up volume seven!

SEAN: I’m at NYCC, so this will be short. New Higurashi. Start of the Rena arc. Good stuff, go get it.

DAVID: There’s so much great stuff this week, with lots of new releases from Yen Press, a few choice items from Viz’s Signature line, and an always-welcome new volume of Osamu Tezuka’s Black Jack from Vertical, but I have to go with the book that it feels like I’ve been waiting for the longest, and that would be the second volume of Kaoru Mori’s Bride’s Story from Yen. I thought the first volume was faultlessly beautiful, and I’m eager to learn more about its can-do heroine, Amir. As was the case with Mori’s Emma, the plot here is less interesting than the meticulously rendered trappings and the small but very lovely moments that reveal character. With Mori, it’s always more about the harmonic elements than a traditional, central melodic line, but the ultimate effect is always fascinating to me. I really enjoy spending time in the worlds she creates.

KATE: A Bride’s Story is at the top of my must-buy list, too, but since David has so eloquently described the series’ charms, I’ll recommend the first volume of CLAMP’s Gate 7 instead. This long-delayed project was first announced at San Diego Comic-Con in 2007, and has undergone several transformations along the way. (Remember when it was going to be simultaneously released in Japan, Korea, and North America in “mangette” form?) The story is pure CLAMP: a shy teen is transported from modern-day Tokyo to a fantasy realm that’s under siege from ferocious monsters. Naturally, he discovers that he has skillz he didn’t know he had — would it be a manga if he didn’t have a few hidden talents? — and must decide whether to save the Earth or go home for dinner. If the cover art is any indication, Gate 7 will be a feast for the eyes, even if the plot mechanics are a little creaky. Kathryn Hemann, who blogs at Contemporary Japanese Literature, has a thoughtful early review that’s worth reading if you’re on the fence about buying it.

MJ: I’m a bit of a post-con zombie this morning, but since I see that my cohorts have already covered several of my top choices (Pandora Hearts, A Bride’s Story, and Gate 7), I’ll take a moment to put the spotlight on the penultimate volume of Osamu Tezuka’s Black Jack. This series is always a winner with me, but I’m especially interested in this volume’s final chapter, which reportedly comes in at something like 70 pages. Though short, episodic storytelling served this series well, I admit I’m thrilled at the prospect of digging in to something so substantial. Definitely a must-buy!

Readers, what looks good to you?

X, Vol. 1

by 19 Comments

As a child of the 1970s, I appreciate a good disaster flick, whether the devastation is local or global, natural or man-made. There’s something immensely satisfying about watching the world go up in flames, only to walk outside the theater and be reassured by the presence of stop lights, busses, coffee shops, and pedestrians going about their business. Small wonder, then, that I adored CLAMP’s X back in 2003. Not only did it have an impossibly large cast of attractive characters, it also boasted awesome scenes of destruction — scenes worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster.

When VIZ announced that it would be reissuing X in a deluxe edition, however, I had misgivings about the project: would the apocalypse be as good the second time around?

In 2003, I’d swooned over the illustrations, re-read favorite scenes, and marveled at the fact that all the characters dressed like refugees from a 1980s music video. Though my inner snob normally disdained anything so purple, I secretly loved the all-caps dialogue, the swirling lines and wind-swept hairdos, and the melodramatic death scenes, not to mention the eerie, post-apocalyptic dream sequences that were sprinkled throughout the series. X read like a hybrid of The Seventh Sign (not to be confused with The Seventh Seal, a much classier flick), Götterdämmerung, and Captain EO, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

At the time I was collecting X, I hadn’t read much else, save a handful of manga by CLAMP and Rumiko Takahashi. The very qualities that drew me to X — angstful conversations, tortured characters — soon had the opposite effect on me: I started to avoid comics in which the emotional volume was cranked up to eleven on every page, as I found them exhausting, the manga equivalent of Tristan and Isolde. Re-reading Tokyo Babylon, for example, I was mortified by my initial enthusiasm for the story, which now seemed hopelessly overripe to me; not since I’d re-read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe had I been so disappointed by a favorite text.

Revisiting X proved a more rewarding experience, though the series’ structural flaws were more readily apparent on a second reading. The dialogue, for example, is often unintentionally hilarious: bystanders comment on the main characters, helpfully telling us how wonderful they are (“Last week, he saved my son from drowning in the river,” one anonymous mother says of Fuma), while the main characters introduce themselves to one another as if they’re networking, not preparing to kill each other. (Sample: “The name’s Sorata Arisugawa! A cute ‘n’ fun-lovin’ high school senior!” “Allow me to return the favor. I am Yuto Kigai. A humble public servant in the local ward office.”) Kotori, the first major female character to be introduced, embodies the Mary Sue concept to a tee; not only is she beautiful, kind, and long of hair, but she’s also very delicate, beset with a heart so weak that she collapses whenever someone frowns. More amusing still are the characters who materialize at the very moment they’re needed: witness the introduction of Tokiko Magami, a school nurse who just so happens to be Kamui’s sole surviving relative, and a fount of information about Kamui’s mother.

Yet these moments of narrative clumsiness are overpowered by the sheer force of the imagery. The battle scenes are kinetic and violent, as characters leap across rooftops, level buildings, and plunge their swords into one another; few licensed shojo or shonen titles can match the gory zest with which CLAMP executes these moments of hand-to-hand combat. The dream sequences, too, are shockingly graphic: characters are dismembered, crucified, impaled, and engulfed in flames, often right before their loved ones’ eyes. Though these images teeter on the brink of kitsch — in one dream, Kamui cradles Kotori’s severed head in his arms — they underscore one of the series’ most important points: sacrifice and loss are a fundamental part of becoming an adult, whether that sacrifice means leaving one’s family (as Sorata and Lady Arashi have done) or losing them (as Kamui, Fuma, and Kotori do in the early chapters of the manga).

The series’ other major theme — that humans are poor stewards of Mother Earth — is less successfully illustrated; three volumes in, it still isn’t clear what, exactly, the Seven Seals are charged with doing: preventing nuclear war? staving off pollution? protecting spotted owls? What will happen if the Seals fail, however, is evocatively rendered; CLAMP draws a post-apocalyptic Tokyo worthy of Katsuhiro Otomo, a landscape of twisted skyscrapers and rotting corpses slowly engulfed by sand dunes.

The fact that these images appeared in Monthly Asuka and not Young Magazine is what makes X so remarkable: it may not be the best shojo fantasy ever written, but it certainly is one of the bloodiest, a fierce, angry blast of emotion that scorches everything in its path. I hesitate to suggest that X‘s body count is an achievement, but it is sharp and welcome rebuke to the idea that female readers strongly prefer conversation and character development to butt-kicking and carnage. Count me in for volume two.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

X, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • VIZ MEDIA • 580 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

X, Vol. 1

by

As a child of the 1970s, I appreciate a good disaster flick, whether the devastation is local or global, natural or man-made. There’s something immensely satisfying about watching the world go up in flames, only to walk outside the theater and be reassured by the presence of stop lights, busses, coffee shops, and pedestrians going about their business. Small wonder, then, that I adored CLAMP’s X back in 2003. Not only did it have an impossibly large cast of attractive characters, it also boasted awesome scenes of destruction — scenes worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster.

When VIZ announced that it would be reissuing X in a deluxe edition, however, I had misgivings about the project: would the apocalypse be as good the second time around?

In 2003, I’d swooned over the illustrations, re-read favorite scenes, and marveled at the fact that all the characters dressed like refugees from a 1980s music video. Though my inner snob normally disdained anything so purple, I secretly loved the all-caps dialogue, the swirling lines and wind-swept hairdos, and the melodramatic death scenes, not to mention the eerie, post-apocalyptic dream sequences that were sprinkled throughout the series. X read like a hybrid of The Seventh Sign (not to be confused with The Seventh Seal, a much classier flick), Götterdämmerung, and Captain EO, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

At the time I was collecting X, I hadn’t read much else, save a handful of manga by CLAMP and Rumiko Takahashi. The very qualities that drew me to X — angstful conversations, tortured characters — soon had the opposite effect on me: I started to avoid comics in which the emotional volume was cranked up to eleven on every page, as I found them exhausting, the manga equivalent of Tristan and Isolde. Re-reading Tokyo Babylon, for example, I was mortified by my initial enthusiasm for the story, which now seemed hopelessly overripe to me; not since I’d re-read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe had I been so disappointed by a favorite text.

Revisiting X proved a more rewarding experience, though the series’ structural flaws were more readily apparent on a second reading. The dialogue, for example, is often unintentionally hilarious: bystanders comment on the main characters, helpfully telling us how wonderful they are (“Last week, he saved my son from drowning in the river,” one anonymous mother says of Fuma), while the main characters introduce themselves to one another as if they’re networking, not preparing to kill each other. (Sample: “The name’s Sorata Arisugawa! A cute ‘n’ fun-lovin’ high school senior!” “Allow me to return the favor. I am Yuto Kigai. A humble public servant in the local ward office.”) Kotori, the first major female character to be introduced, embodies the Mary Sue concept to a tee; not only is she beautiful, kind, and long of hair, but she’s also very delicate, beset with a heart so weak that she collapses whenever someone frowns. More amusing still are the characters who materialize at the very moment they’re needed: witness the introduction of Tokiko Magami, a school nurse who just so happens to be Kamui’s sole surviving relative, and a fount of information about Kamui’s mother.

Yet these moments of narrative clumsiness are overpowered by the sheer force of the imagery. The battle scenes are kinetic and violent, as characters leap across rooftops, level buildings, and plunge their swords into one another; few licensed shojo or shonen titles can match the gory zest with which CLAMP executes these moments of hand-to-hand combat. The dream sequences, too, are shockingly graphic: characters are dismembered, crucified, impaled, and engulfed in flames, often right before their loved ones’ eyes. Though these images teeter on the brink of kitsch — in one dream, Kamui cradles Kotori’s severed head in his arms — they underscore one of the series’ most important points: sacrifice and loss are a fundamental part of becoming an adult, whether that sacrifice means leaving one’s family (as Sorata and Lady Arashi have done) or losing them (as Kamui, Fuma, and Kotori do in the early chapters of the manga).

The series’ other major theme — that humans are poor stewards of Mother Earth — is less successfully illustrated; three volumes in, it still isn’t clear what, exactly, the Seven Seals are charged with doing: preventing nuclear war? staving off pollution? protecting spotted owls? What will happen if the Seals fail, however, is evocatively rendered; CLAMP draws a post-apocalyptic Tokyo worthy of Katsuhiro Otomo, a landscape of twisted skyscrapers and rotting corpses slowly engulfed by sand dunes.

The fact that these images appeared in Monthly Asuka and not Young Magazine is what makes X so remarkable: it may not be the best shojo fantasy ever written, but it certainly is one of the bloodiest, a fierce, angry blast of emotion that scorches everything in its path. I hesitate to suggest that X‘s body count is an achievement, but it is sharp and welcome rebuke to the idea that female readers strongly prefer conversation and character development to butt-kicking and carnage. Count me in for volume two.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

X, VOL. 1 • BY CLAMP • VIZ MEDIA • 580 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Codename: Sailor V, Vol. 1

by 4 Comments

Do you remember Wonder Woman? From an adult perspective, the show was dreadful, marred by ham-fisted scripts, low-budget special effects, campy plotlines, and wooden performances. From a child’s perspective, however, Wonder Woman was magical: the heroine had a secret identity, wore a cool crime-fighting outfit complete with nifty, crime-fighting accessories, and fought bad buys. Better still, she could transform from civilian to superhero by extending her arms and twirling a few times, a transformation made even more dramatic by a blinding flash of light and a musical flourish on the soundtrack.

Codename: Sailor V irresistibly reminded me of the old Wonder Woman show. Judged by adult standards, it’s repetitive, hokey, and poorly drawn; judged by a child’s standards, however, it’s an appealing fantasy in which an ordinary girl can assume a new, powerful identity in order to defeat bullies, robbers, and aliens who like to impersonate idols. (More on that in a minute.)

Sailor V follows a well-established shojo template in which a seemingly ordinary girl discovers her true identity as a soldier, priestess, or princess. For perky tomboy Minako Aino, her alter ego is Sailor Venus, a glamorous, sailor-suited warrior tasked with protecting the Earth from the Dark Agency, a nefarious band of aliens using the entertainment industry to enslave humanity. With the aid of Artemis, a talking cat, Minako begins mastering her two secret weapons: a magical pen and a crescent-shaped compact, both of which enable her to overwhelm opponents with the light of truth….

Read More

Codename: Sailor V, Vol. 1

by

Do you remember Wonder Woman? From an adult perspective, the show was dreadful, marred by ham-fisted scripts, low-budget special effects, campy plotlines, and wooden performances. From a child’s perspective, however, Wonder Woman was magical: the heroine had a secret identity, wore a cool crime-fighting outfit complete with nifty, crime-fighting accessories, and fought bad buys. Better still, she could transform from civilian to superhero by extending her arms and twirling a few times, a transformation made even more dramatic by a blinding flash of light and a musical flourish on the soundtrack.

Codename: Sailor V irresistibly reminded me of the old Wonder Woman show. Judged by adult standards, it’s repetitive, hokey, and poorly drawn; judged by a child’s standards, however, it’s an appealing fantasy in which an ordinary girl can assume a new, powerful identity in order to defeat bullies, robbers, and aliens who like to impersonate idols. (More on that in a minute.)

Sailor V follows a well-established shojo template in which a seemingly ordinary girl discovers her true identity as a soldier, priestess, or princess. For perky tomboy Minako Aino, her alter ego is Sailor Venus, a glamorous, sailor-suited warrior tasked with protecting the Earth from the Dark Agency, a nefarious band of aliens using the entertainment industry to enslave humanity. With the aid of Artemis, a talking cat, Minako begins mastering her two secret weapons: a magical pen and a crescent-shaped compact, both of which enable her to overwhelm opponents with the light of truth.

What distinguishes Sailor V from other magical girl manga is Minako’s can-do spirit. Minako may flunk math quizzes and miss homeroom, but when the fate of the Earth hangs in the balance, she embraces her responsibility with cheerful resolve. “I feel liberated! I’m overflowing with power!” she declares after her first successful mission. Even when the missions fall into a predictable pattern, Minako’s enthusiasm and competence prove irresistible: she delivers high-flying kicks with graceful precision, discovers new powers in the heat of battle, scolds evil-doers for evading the tax code (no, really), and experiments with different personae. (In one story, she transforms into a handsome male idol; in another, she poses as a military commando.)

Put simply, Minako kicks butt and has fun doing it.

I’m less enthusiastic about the artwork, which is a riot of busy screentones, arm-flapping chibis, and noseless characters. The visual flow is often choppy, with abrupt shifts in perspective and setting that can disorient the reader. The character designs, too, leave something to be desired, as the villains all have blank, doll-like faces and enormous foreheads, while Minako and her friends have saucer-shaped eyes. Only the fight scenes are well executed; using undulating lines and balletic poses, Takeuchi does a fine job of distinguishing Minako from Sailor V, showing us how a plucky teen transforms into a strong young woman.

And therein lies the key Codename: Sailor V‘s appeal: the series allows young girls to try on a grown-up persona, to imagine what it might be to like to be a strong, smart, and capable woman who’s free to realize her full potential. At the same time, however, Sailor V honors a young girl’s ideas of femininity, recognizing that it’s perfectly possible to save the day while wearing a cute outfit. Small wonder, then, that the Sailor Moon franchise proved so popular among young girls on both sides of the Pacific: who wouldn’t want to be a princess and a warrior?

CODENAME: SAILOR V, VOL. 1 • BY NAOKO TAKEUCHI • KODANSHA COMICS USA • 272 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Pick of the Week: Cross Game & More

by , , , and 5 Comments

This week, Midtown Comics plays catch-up with several months’ worth of Kodansha Comics releases, giving the Battle Robot plenty to choose from. Check out our picks below!

KATE: Though I’m not sure why Kodansha felt it was necessary to release a third edition of Gon, I never miss an opportunity to recommend this beautifully illustrated series to new readers. Billed as “the tiny terror from the Jurassic era,” Gon is a little orange t-rex who has a talent for getting into trouble. He tangles with other predators; he eats psychedelic mushrooms; he swims with sharks; he builds a beaver dam. What makes Gon work are the illustrations: Masasahi Tanaka resists the urge to put words into his characters’ mouths, instead relying on his cartooning chops to convey what the participants are feeling and thinking. As a result, this animal-centric series is never too cute or saccharine, capturing the natural world in all its raw (and sometimes comic) glory.

MICHELLE: This week’s chart at Midtown Comics looks pretty bizarre, since they are finally getting in all those Kodansha releases they were missing before. I advocate strongly for quite a few of them—Sailor Moon, Arisa, Shugo Chara!…—but I am going to have to award my pick to the fifth volume of Cross Game, which comes out this week along with several other of VIZ’s Shonen Sunday titles. I enthused about this particular volume in a recent Off the Shelf column, where I concluded my remarks by saying, “If you like sports manga, you will like Cross Game. And if you don’t like sports manga, you will still like Cross Game.” And lo, MJsubsequently read the first volume and proved me right!

SEAN: I hate to duplicate, but I’m going with Cross Game as well. This volume introduces a new plot twist that at first seems like the most cliched thing a reader has ever seen, but Adachi is an expert, and the way things play out is fascinating. The reactions of all the characters are one of the best reasons to get it, as Adachi milks so much from his minimalistic faces. Best of all, there’s a promise of more baseball. After finishing off Eyeshield this week, I’m in the moon for some more sports, and Adachi’s baseball games are thrilling stuff.

MJ: Honestly, I’m really tempted to third Cross Game, but I guess in the interest of spreading the love, I’ll go with volume three of Kim Hyung-Min and Yang Kyung-Il’s March Story. This dark, whimsical series got off to a shaky start, but its third volume is really solid, making the most of Kim Hyung-Min’s episodic storytelling and Yang Kyung-Il’s intricate artwork. There is perhaps a little less through-story than usually suits my taste, but though this volume focuses less heavily on March and her history than either of the earlier volumes, there are enough little nuggets of new information to get me by. And the stories we do get here really work, with a level of consistency absent from the first two volumes. In the beginning, I stuck with this series for the beautiful artwork. Now I’m in for good.

DAVID: I’m going to surprise myself by not third-ing Cross Game (SECRET CODE: I’m totally actually third-ing Cross Game by claiming that I’m not) by giving a little leg-up to a new shônen series from Kodansha by Ryou Ryumon and Kouji Megumi, Bloody Monday. Now, I wasn’t wildly enthusiastic about this book in last week’s Bookshelf Briefs, but I have to say that there’s always room for another stylish mystery featuring super-smart teens, which Viz seems to realize, given the fact that they keep re-releasing Death Note over and over again. The creators do a nice job setting up their complicated story and making a persuasive case that the stakes are high, something not everyone manages in a first volume. I wasn’t precisely blown away by the series debut, but I like mysteries, and I like comics about smart kids who have unique skills, and Bloody Monday fits both bills.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?