Manga Bookshelf

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Katherine Dacey

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+)

Pick of the Week: Variety

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This week’s bounty at Midtown Comics is especially diverse, though even that can’t quite satisfy the broad tastes of the Battle Robot. Check out our picks below!

KATE: Though VIZ is releasing several must-read manga this week — including Natsume Ono’s Tesoro and the tenth volume of Takehiko Inoue’s Real — my vote goes to the fourth volume of Hisae Iwaoka’s Saturn Apartments. This beautifully illustrated drama focuses on a handful of window washers aboard an enormous space station. The characters’ job grants them access to every nook and cranny of the joint, offering them a window (no pun intended) into the lives of their wealthy and eccentric clientele. At the same time, however, their job is incredibly dangerous: as Iwaoka amply demonstrates throughout the series, the characters face UV exposure, strong solar winds, and a variety of other hazards, all of which can send them plunging to their deaths. Lest I make Saturn Apartments sound like an Upton Sinclair novel set in space, rest assured that the story isn’t unrelentingly grim, thanks to Iwaoka’s playful, imaginative artwork and her lively cast of supporting characters. My only complaint about the series: VIZ doesn’t release it frequently enough!

MICHELLE: I considered picking volume two of Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon this week—for, despite the fact that Midtown Comics is not receiving it, other retailers are—but figured that enough people would buy it or had already pre-ordered it that it didn’t need my help! So, instead, I will cast my vote for volume three of Tsuta Suzuki’s A Strange and Mystifying Story, which I reviewed in the October BL Bookrack column. The series’ first two volumes depict a relationship between a sickly guy and the guardian beast that heals him, but volume three signifies a welcome new direction for the series. Here’s what I had to say about it:

“Mangaka Tsuta Suzuki is wise enough to know when a story is played out and brave enough to risk angering her fans by taking things in an entirely new direction. Akio and Setsu appear but briefly, therefore, as Suzuki devotes the first half of this volume to the absolutely adorable love story between two of Akio’s coworkers and the second half to a teenager named Tsumugi who has just encountered a guardian beast of his own.”

Even if you’re not into guardian beasts per se, the first half alone is worth the price of admission.

SEAN: Honestly, there is some manga I’m getting this week, but nothing that really makes me jump up and say Pick Of The Week. So I’m going to talk about Pogo again. There’s just so much nostalgia wrapped up in this release, even if it is only of the first two years (the comic ran 24 years before Kelly passed away). The odd passive love triangle between Pogo, Porkypine and Mam’selle Hepzibah; Howland Owl and Churchy LaFemme’s continued ability to get sucked into any incredibly stupid scheme they come across; Albert Alligator, despite being a loudmouth jerk most of the time, being an alligator you can truly believe is not eating most of the native populace; and Deacon Mushrat, who in these early strips is the closest the comic has to a villain, though in later volumes – it’ll be Vol. 3, I believe – he is easily supplanted by far more sinister characters. Much as fans of literature always point you towards the classics, fans of comics – both Japanese and American – should know their Pogo.

DAVID: I could easily pick the 10th volume of Takehiko Inoue’s splendid Real, but I’m going to favor Natsume Ono’s Tesoro for a couple of reasons. The first is that Alexander (Manga Widget) Hoffman is hosting a Manga Moveable Feast dedicated to Ono’s work. The second is that Tesoro is really charming. It contains some of Ono’s earliest professionally published works, but you could never tell if you haven’t read some of her more recent comics. And, even if you’ve read her more polished titles, there’s still plenty here to enjoy. I’m going to post a review of the book today, so I won’t go into too much detail here, but if you like charming, character-driven comics, then you should do yourself a favor and pick this up. The stories here are uniformly sweet and sometimes satisfyingly sad.

MJ: Anyone who knows me well will know that I’m probably the least likely person on earth to stand up as a champion of sports… anything, but I find myself unable to resist the opportunity to be the one to stand up for Takehiko Inoue’s Real. Here’s what I said about volume 9: “Though I’m not a big fan of sports manga … this is really my kind of sports manga. It’s dark, gritty, and mature in the very best sense of the word … though the games are definitely dramatic, they are really not the focus of the series at all. Much more time is spent off the court than on, especially in recent volumes, and most of the drama revolves around the characters’ struggles that bring them to the game, rather than the game itself.” It’s been a year since the last volume was released, so seeing more of this series in the US really is a treat.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

Bookshelf Briefs 11/14/11

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This week, Michelle, David, Kate, & Sean take a look at new releases from Viz Media, Seven Seas, Digital Manga Publishing, and the Digital Manga Guild.

Arata: The Legend, Vol. 8 | By Yuu Watase | Viz Media – Although the back cover blurb mentions nothing aside from the fact that Arata Hinohara and friends engage in a bit of crossdressing, that’s far from being the most significant development in this installment. One of Hinohara’s companions, a boy named Kanate, has been looking for the gang of thieves that wronged him, but when he finally finds them he’s so desperate for strength enough to exact revenge that he makes a choice that will pit him against Hinohara in the future. I did not see this coming at all, but look forward to the eventual drama this will create—and really, many of Watase’s plot developments are like this. On one hand, they feel a little out-of-the-blue, but if you think about it, the groundwork has been laid and the things characters know and do make perfect sense. This is a really solid shounen fantasy and I look forward to more. – Michelle Smith

A Certain Scientific Railgun, Vol. 2 | By Kazuma Kamachi and Motoi Fuyukawa | Seven Seas – This series works much better when it’s being as grim and dramatic as possible. The best moment in the volume for me was probably the phone conversation between Uiharu and Saiten, showing not only a depth of emotion but also giving some very personal reasons for why ‘normal’ people are getting into all this Level Upper in the first place. I also quite liked the eventual explanation for Level Upper, which is quite clever and works well with the context of the series. Unfortunately, there’s also a bit of humor too, which almost always falls flat. Shirai is a good action heroine but a horrible pseudo-lesbian, and Kiyama’s constant stripping was simply tedious. Lastly, I do admit every time we see Toma and he talks about mysterious things that never come up again, I get curious to see if this is stuff I’d know about if A Certain Magical Index was licensed. That can be frustrating. Still, keep getting grittier, Railgun: you’re better off for it.– Sean Gaffney

A Certain Scientific Railgun, Vol. 2 | By Kazuma Kamachi and Motoi Fuyukawa | Seven Seas – I was inclined to write this series off after the first volume, but the second is a significant improvement. The issues posed by the fact that this is some kind of tertiary spin-off of a light-novel franchise that’s never been published in English are largely cast aside here in favor of a proper story. In a school community where psychic powers are commonplace (though not universal), someone has come up with a way for normal people to manifest abilities of their own. Unfortunately, it leaves a lot of them in a coma. The higher-ups aren’t taking the situation seriously, so our cast of super-girl hall monitors decides to investigate. What follows is a proper mystery with some nicely observed adolescent drama and solid action featuring resourceful young women who are strong and smart. The art is still just competent, but the plotting and character development are an order of magnitude better. – David Welsh

Kimi ni Todoke, Vol. 11 | By Karuho Shiina | Viz Media – Sawako and Kazehaya are finally together, and this volume mostly deals with the fallout from that. Kurumi’s defending Sawako, and Sawako’s own refusal to apologize (Kurumi noted she would have hit her if she had) is well played, and I think finally moves Kurumi out of the ‘villain’ area, though of course I may reckon without the long memory of some fans. Meanwhile, Yano is having her own self-image issues, which she keeps from her friends, and wonders if being a ‘pure’ kind person is better than one who is kind in a calculating way because it suits them. Pin points out, in the best part of the volume, that both sorts are kind, in the end. (Also, love that Yano/Kurumi ship tease there. “If I were a man” indeed…) Lastly, we see the start of the manga from Kazehaya’s perspective, and see he and Sawako going on their first date. This is the adorable half of the manga, and while I didn’t find it as gripping, it’s still very cute. Great stuff.– Sean Gaffney

Mr. Tiger and Mr. Wolf, Vol. 1 | By Ahiru Haruno | Digital Manga Publishing – I ordered this pursuant to a careful democratic process, knowing in advance that yaoi featuring characters with animal ears would have to do a very great deal to endear itself to me. It didn’t, but I certainly didn’t hate it, either. The series is basically one good-natured joke repeated over and over with reasonable portions of smut in the mix. An adult wolf adopts what he thinks is a tabby cat, but the tabby cat turns out to be a tiger… and a top! They deal with the disapproval of their respective species and Mr. Wolf’s insecurities about, of all things, his comparatively shorter lifespan. I don’t know how keen I am on inter-species conflict as coming-out metaphor in general, but Haruno uses a fairly light touch, so it ends up being sort of cute. The big problem here is repetition; Haruno seems to find her core premise funnier than I do and doesn’t exert a lot of extra effort. – David Welsh

Real, Vol. 10 | By Takehiko Inoue | Viz Media -The latest installment of Real skillfully juxtaposes two plotlines. In the first, Tomiya decides to pursue a career in basketball, while in the second, Takahashi makes a firm commitment to his physical rehabilitation after watching the Tigers and the Dreams play a scrimmage. Takehiko Inoue demonstrates an uncommon ability to make the characters’ everyday struggles as dramatic and compelling as the game play; watching Takahashi struggle up a long wheelchair ramp proves as nerve-racking as Tomiya’s bold drives to the basket. Better still, Real avoids easy uplift; Inoue resists the temptation to make his characters likable, allowing us to see them as unique individuals, rather than cardboard saints. Crisp artwork and smart dialogue complete the package. -Katherine Dacey

Tired of Waiting for Love | By Saki Aida & Yugi Yamada | Digital Manga Guild/eManga – When Kyousuke Sawaragi meets Shuuya Kasuga in prison he vows to have nothing to do with the younger man, who protects himself by doling out sexual favors. When an injured Shuuya turns up at Sawaragi’s place after his release, however, Sawaragi must examine the reason for his distance and, ultimately, help Shuuya see that there are people in the world whom he can truly trust. I must have a thing for yakuza BL or, more specifically, BL featuring yakuza characters determined to leave their past behind, because I liked this quite a lot. I was especially fond of the metaphor likening Shuuya to the stray cat he finds on the street, and how Sawaragi must choose between showing him a moment’s kindness or a lifetime’s. Plus, Yugi Yamada’s art is gorgeous and the cat is darned cute. Highly recommended. – Michelle Smith

Going Digital: November 2011

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Welcome to Going Digital, Manga Bookshelf’s monthly feature focusing on manga available for digital viewing or download. Each month, the Manga Bookshelf bloggers review a selection of comics we’ve read on our computers, phones, or tablet devices, to give readers a taste of what’s out there, old and new, and how well it works in digital form.

This month, we’ll take a look at Kodansha Comics’ new iPad app, as well as several manga published for viewing on an iOS device and in your web browser. Device, OS, and browser information is included with each review as appropriate, to let you know exactly how we accessed what we read.


Apps

Kodansha Comics | iPad app – Digital manga was the unofficial theme of this year’s New York Comic Con and one of the major announcements came from Kodansha Comics, who launched their new iPad app during the convention.

For those familiar with Viz Media’s app, Kodansha Comics’ layout will be comfortingly familiar, right down to the “Store,” “My Manga,” and “Settings” buttons at the bottom of each page. The one notable difference in layout unfortunately highlights Kodansha’s biggest weakness—one that’s hopefully temporary. While Viz features a lengthy drop-down list of titles in its app’s upper right corner, Kodansha uses a featured tab to reveal its full catalogue of… four.

Acquiring digital rights for manga is clearly a tricky business, as we’ve seen particularly with companies like Yen Press, who have no official ties to Japanese publishers, but it’s surprising to see such a small selection from a company like Kodansha, whom one might expect to have an advantage. Even now, nearly a month after the app’s launch, no new series have appeared, and it’s not difficult to imagine the bulk of Kodansha’s potential readers wandering away with nothing to read.

What Kodansha lacks in variety they make up for in pricing, as long as you’re a fan of Hiro Mashima’s Fairy Tail. While most volumes on the app sell for $4.99 apiece—comparable to the price of a used print volume in most stores—at least for now, volumes of Fairy Tail can be picked up for just $2.99 a pop. As I’ve stated before, I think $4.99 is a tad high to encourage bulk purchases, but it would be difficult to resist the opportunity to pick up, say, a ten-volume series for just $30… that is, if it’s a series one really wants to read, which brings us back once again to the question of variety.

Kodansha’s only other potentially bothersome quirk is their decision to use what I assume are progressive jpegs for the pages of their digital manga. What this means for the reader is that each time a page is “turned,” there is a moment’s delay before the next image comes into focus. See the video below for a demonstration of what I mean.

While it’s likely that one might get used to this particular idiosyncrasy over the course of a volume, I personally found it very distracting, and it’s not an issue I’ve been required to overcome for any of the other digital comics apps I’ve tried, including those from Viz and Yen Press. While those apps have provided me with an experience comparable (and perhaps even superior) to reading a print volume, this particular aspect of Kodansha’s app interrupts my experience at each page turn, making choosing digital feel like a real step down.

While Kodansha seems to have caught on to bulk pricing ahead of most manga publishers, slim selection and a clunky images may keep them from being truly competitive in a rapidly growing market. – MJ


iOS

Oishinbo A la Carte, Vol. 1, Japanese Cuisine | By Tetsu Kariya and Akira Hanasaki | Viz Manga app | iPad 2, iOS 4.3 – One of the wonderful things about new digital platforms is that they give underappreciated titles (and I must apologize in advance for the following, potentially multilayered pun) a second bite at the Apple. When Viz first released its sample of Oishinbo volumes in print, the publisher was clearly very excited about this project. They pushed it hard, and they didn’t spare any expense on production.

It’s easy to see why. The title is huge in Japan, still running in Shogakukan’s Big Comic Spirits with more than 100 volumes in print. And its subject is fascinating: food, from the humble to the transcendent, with every stop along the way. It held the promise of being a crossover title, interesting to comic fans and foodies alike. Alas, it didn’t turn out that way. But now, readers who might have been reluctant to spend $13 on a book can spend about $6 on a digital version, which gives me hope that a wider audience will discover it. It also suggests that Viz isn’t ready to give up on publishing more Oishinbo in the future, because they’ve seriously barely scratched the surface.

The series is about two newspapers, each trying to craft the be-all and end-all of gourmet menus. A brash, frankly snotty young reporter is in charge of one, and his bullying, know-it-all father is helming the other. Father and son hate each other for good reasons, as they’re both pretty obnoxious, but the passion for food and discovery on display here overcomes the toxic familial dysfunction. Like The Drops of God, Oishinbo is less of a throw-down than a know-down, and you don’t really need to care about the ongoing plot, since the books cherry-pick subject-linked stories to focus on a specific culinary theme.

I bought each volume as it came out, and they’re cherished items on my shelves, so I’m unlikely to buy a redundant digital version, but I did look at it on the app, and it looks terrific. At the very least, read the free sample chapter: it’s a nifty blend of father-son venom and gourmet education, and, if you like it, you’ll like however much of Oishinbo Viz is able to provide. – David Welsh


Web Browser

Joshi Kousei, Vol. 1 | By Towa Oshima | Futabasha, Comic High! | JManga.com | Firefox 8.0 – I’d been interested in this one, as it was a title that I’d bought all nine volumes of when it was first put out by Dr Master several years back. I knew that the translation would be different by past experience with other JManga titles, and also wondered if the scanned art was better (it wouldn’t be hard). For those unfamiliar with the title, Joshi Kousei was brought over here as High School Girls, and was a ‘shoujo comic for guys’ – i.e. a guys’ comic that starred girls talking about girl things. The main cast featured four different types of idiotic girls and their goofy lives in an all-girls’ school. (Later volumes added two more). Whether you enjoy it or not depends greatly on how much you like broad comedy that is not ashamed to revel in sex and bodily function humor. It’s not Ping Pong Club, though, mostly as the girls are still very cute, likeable flawed characters.

As for the translation, it reminded me how two different groups can take the same Japanese and come up with very different things. JManga and Dr Master’s dialogue is clearly based on the same material, but each sentence, each bit of dialogue is different. I can’t read the Japanese for comparison, but at a guess, I’d say JManga’s is the more technically accurate – Dr Master seems to have been very loose about things. That said, Dr Master’s adaptation works best, as the girls’ dialogue actually sounds like something that a high school girl would actually say – JManga’s can get too caught up in precise verbiage. I also noted that JManga’s was far more explicit than Dr Master’s – the girls are more foul mouthed here, and the chapter with the ‘remember the chemical formulas by using filthy words’ plot has words that are far more filthy.

However, the big reason that fans of the old High School Girls volumes might want to rebuy Joshi Kousei online is the art/scans. Dr Master’s scans were terrible, some of the worst I’d seen in modern manga, and looked like 3rd-generation xeroxes (they probably were). JManga’s has access to the original, and shadowing and tone actually look like what they are now. It makes a world of difference – the manga looks modern now, as opposed to twice-removed, and the girls are cuter now that we can see that’s just shadow on their faces, rather than the five-o-clock shadow it appeared to be with Dr Master. Given this, if you are a fan of High School Girls, I’d say this is worth a rebuy, especially at the current sale prices. The translation is a little awkward in places (especially early on), but the art upgrade makes up for it. Also, it’s funny. – Sean Gaffney

Otaku Type Delusional Girl, Vol. 1 | By Natsume Konjoh | Action Comics | JManga.com | Firefox 3.6.24 – “Otaku girls don’t care about reality,” explains one of the characters in Otaku Type Delusional Girl. “Anime or celebrity, they are deep within their world, loving their favorite character.” His description certainly applies to Rumi Asai, a shy, bespectacled fujoshi whose obsession with yaoi manga is all-consuming. Abe, her long-suffering boyfriend, does his best to appease her, donning cat ears to resemble Asai’s favorite character, reading all twenty-five volumes of her favorite series, and agreeing to pose in a compromising position with his pal Chiba. Why Abe agrees to such an unending stream of humiliations is a mystery: Asai is far more interested in seeing Abe kiss Chiba than in being the recipient of Abe’s affections.

Though there are a few genuinely funny moments, most of the humor revolves around the stale trope of mistaken identity. Abe and Chiba’s classmates believe the boys are romantically involved with each other, leading to numerous scenes in which one (or both) vigorously assert their heterosexuality. The literal-minded translation puts an unfortunate, homophobic spin on the jokes, even when the underlying punchlines aren’t mean-spirited. Worse still, each chapter follows the same template, allowing little opportunity for the characters to interact in fresh or surprising ways. Even the introduction of Masai, a fangirl with yuri leanings, does little to enliven the proceedings; her main role is to say and do suggestive things to Asai. (At least the fan service is equal opportunity.)

The bottom line: if you adore My Girlfriend’s a Geek, you might find Otaku Type Delusional Girl appealing, if clumsily translated. Other readers will find the story too repetitive and familiar to be genuinely funny, especially if they’ve read other series starring an obsessed fangirl. – Katherine Dacey

So I Married an Anti-Fan, Vol. 2 | By Wann | NETCOMICS.com | Windows 7, SeaMonkey 2.4.1 – I’ve long been a fan of the NETCOMICS business model, which operates more like a manga rental service than an actual storefront. Instead of selling its customers a complete volume of material that they can read as many times as they like at no extra charge, NETCOMICS provides its content in chapters and charges a mere $0.25 for each one. Readers have two days to read the material, from the time they first access it, and if, after that time elapses, they wish to read it again, they’ll have to pay again. This might be a big turnoff for some, but suffice it to say that I read this entire volume of So I Married an Anti-Fan for a whopping $1.75.

It’s hard to argue with a price like that, especially when So I Married an Anti-Fan continues to be an enjoyable read. Alas, life is not currently so rosy for its scrappy protagonist, Geunyoung Lee, who is now filming a reality series wherein she acts as manager to Joon Hoo, the celebrity who got her fired from her old job. Joon is snooty and disdainful at first and one really grows to sympathize with Geunyoung, especially when she realizes that the producers are editing the show in such a way to play up her mistakes and stir up even more of the negative sentiment she was hoping would be quelled by her genuine desire to do a good job.

Of course, it was inevitable that Joon would begin to see Geunyoung’s good qualities, namely that because she dislikes him and wants nothing from him, he is able to be “a free man” in her company. While I approve of this realization, Joon’s jealousy and actions when Geunyoung gets lost in Tokyo—he rushes off to find her and when he finds her at a friend’s place he drags her out with enough force to leave bruises—leave something to be desired. I sincerely hope the dynamic of their relationship won’t turn out to be similar to the one MJfound so troubling in Wann’s previous series for NETCOMICS. – Michelle Smith

Some reviews based on digital copies provided by the publisher.

Show Us Your Stuff: Jade’s Eclectic Manga Collection

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Welcome to the latest installment of Show Us Your Stuff, in which manga lovers share pictures of their libraries and discuss their comic-collecting habits. Today’s featured otaku is Jade, a manga buff who describes himself as an “auteur of geeky media.” He’s also one of my toughest critics — and I mean that affectionately, as Jade has often challenged my reviews with thoughtful comments that forced me to re-examine what I’d said. Take it away, Jade!

Hi, I’m Jade. I consider myself an otaku in the sense of an auteur of geeky media: comics, genre movies and books, video games, table-top RPGs, etc. If it’s dorky, I probably have some over-bearing critical opinion about it. I feel that all these stories are a pretty earnest window into the soul of a culture, so I like to give them a deeper look than the entertainment value and find a lot of value even in some stuff that’s pretty terrible. As a result, I have a ridiculously large and eclectic manga collection.

What was the first manga you bought? How long have you been collecting manga?
The first manga I ever bought were some Battle Angel Alita floppies way back when I was about fifteen and Ranma and Alita were the only manga you were likely to find anywhere….

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MMF: GeGeGe no Kitaro

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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

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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

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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

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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