Michelle Smith

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Vols. 14-16

March 26, 2011 by MJ, Michelle Smith, Connie C., Robin Brenner, Eva Volin and Khursten Santos 12 Comments

Hello and welcome once again to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

We continue this month with our new three-volume format, and with just six volumes left to discuss, that means we’ll have the entire series covered by the end of our May installment.

Volumes fourteen through sixteen are action-packed, as Eiji and the others manage to (mostly) pull off their ambitious rescue operation, followed by a declaration of war by Golzine that places all three of our major gangs at the center of a military-style siege. Meanwhile, Yut-Lung declares a war of his own with assassin Blanca on board as his bodyguard.

I’m joined again in this round by Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Khursten Santos (Otaku Champloo), Connie C. (Slightly Biased Manga), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), and Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights).

Continued thanks to these wonderful women for their hard work and brilliance!

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, volumes five and six here, volumes seven and eight here, volumes nine and ten here, and volumes eleven through thirteen here. On to part seven!

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Off the Shelf: Cranky

March 23, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 8 Comments

MJ: Hello. It is snowing at my house and I’m feeling very cranky. How about you?

MICHELLE: *points and laughs* It’s warm and sunny here! Internet connectivity woes are making me slightly cranky, though. Perhaps we can get our minds off what ails us by talking about some manga!

MJ: Perhaps so! Do you have some healing manga to share this week?

MICHELLE: There’s one that always brightens my mood, but I think I’ll save that for last. First up, I’ve got the debut volume of Pavane for a Dead Girl, a new series from TOKYOPOP.

I read one volume of a Koge-Donbo series back in 2004 and thought that was quite sufficient for one lifetime. Pavane for a Dead Girl tempted me, though, with its late-Meiji music school setting. We begin—in an inauspicious and jumbled way—as a new student named Nanao Kaga is about to commence studying at the school where she once long ago heard a lovely violin melody being played by a boy whom she dubbed the “prince of harmony.” lmost immediately, Nanao runs into the boy again, who just so happens to be playing the same tune. “What beautiful music. Like a dazzling jewel overflowing with love and radiance,” Nanao opines.

The boy is named Takenomaru Sagami, and gives Nanao a brooch that is at first clear but progressively becomes a deep amber in color. She’s soon head-over-heels in love with him, but what she doesn’t know is that, in exchange for good looks and musical talent, Takenomaru has made a bargain with the “great angel” to “capture the tears of Maria.” What this basically means is that he has to bestow a brooch upon a pure-hearted girl, encourage her to love him, and then stab her in the heart once the brooch indicates that her feelings have reached maximum capacity.

In the right hands, this could be an interesting concept. Dark, brooding hero is doomed to be eternally alone, because he must kill every girl who loves him in order to survive. Perhaps it will even go there eventually—I can’t believe I’m actually willing to read a second volume of a Koge-Donbo series!—but the execution is hampered by this being the most moe-tastic thing I’ve ever seen. None of the female characters registers even remotely as a fleshed-out person, and one gets the impression that they’re only there to fall for and be slain by Takenomaru in turn.

Maybe this could end up being something like Higurashi When They Cry, in which moe and darkness coexist, but I’m a little dubious. Curious, but not wholly convinced.

MJ: I think overall I have a more generous view of “moe” and what that can mean for a series, but semantics aside, this sounds pretty dubious. There’s the potential for a sort of Princess Tutu-flavored darkness in the scenario you describe, but it sounds like the execution has a looong way to go to match that kind of depth. I’m quite sad to hear it, actually.

MICHELLE: Admittedly, I don’t have a lot of experience with moe and don’t mean to blast it in ignorance, but the flatness of the female characters is inescapable. Takenomaru doesn’t really fare much better, but at least he has a traumatic backstory and a cruel bargain to live up to.

How about you? Read any doldrum-vanquishing things this week?

MJ: One of my titles definitely falls into that category, and I’ll start with that in hopes of buoying us up for the evening! That heart-warming manga would be volume three of Yumi Unita’s Bunny Drop, out just this week from Yen Press. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine that this series could ever become anything but warm and charming.

This volume begins with a milestone, as Rin’s first day of elementary school approaches. As Daikichi finds himself unexpectedly anxious about letting Rin walk to school without him, he’s also faced with a reality check at work, when a flirtatious female coworker abruptly loses interest after he tells her he’s raising a child. This volume’s biggest challenge, however, continues to be Rin’s birth mother, whose dispassionate attitude towards her child leaves Daikichi alternately angry and confounded.

I know I already made this comparison in my discussion of the first two volumes, but it’s continuously fascinating to me just how differently this series reads from Yotsuba&! thanks simply to its marketing demographic. Nothing against Yotsuba&! of course, but the focus on actual parenting in Bunny Drop stands in such stark contrast to that series, it’s almost funny. As a non-parent, I might expect this to be tedious, but in this artist’s hands, it’s anything but.

What Unita manages to capture here is not just the challenges of parenting or the (presumably) relatable humor and fear, but the honest-to-goodness joy of it, in terms that even a child-free old biddy like me can appreciate. Rin may not be as unique a soul as Yotsuba is, or at least less obviously so, but she’s such a little person, it’s impossible to avoid slipping into Daikichi’s POV. We experience everything here just as he does, and we experience it intimately, as though immersed in his feelings.

It’s a beautifully written series, and it just keeps getting better, volume after volume.

MICHELLE: I probably said this exact same thing last time, but I am totally committed to reading this series in the near future. Your description warms the cockles of my poor, withered heart. I also love how Rin gets progressively older on each cover. The series just ended recently in Japan, I believe, and I wonder if she makes it to adulthood by the end.

MJ: You will love it, Michelle. Really and truly. It’s one of my favorite manga series currently running.

So, what’s this mood-brightening card you’ve been holding onto over there?

MICHELLE: Only my beloved Skip Beat!

For those not in the know, this is the story of Kyoko Mogami, a teenager who was betrayed by her first love after she followed him to Tokyo and supported him while he made it big as a pop star. After learning how he really viewed her, she vowed to get even by surpassing him in show biz. This might sound a bit like Honey Hunt, but trust me, Skip Beat! is the better series.

For one, it focuses pretty intensely on Kyoko’s evolution as an actress. In this volume, for instance, she is practically living the role of Natsu, the leader of a group of mean girls, a part she initially had trouble getting into until she succeeded in differentiating it from another villainous role for which she’s become moderately well known. Although Kyoko does have a love interest of sorts (although she’s oblivious to his feelings) in fellow actor Ren Tsuruga, he appears for all of three pages. Instead, it’s all about Kyoko’s professional growth and the rivalry her ability to transcend a notorious role inspires in a costar who hasn’t been able to get beyond a certain part she played as a child.

It’s immensely satisfying to watch Kyoko embody a part, particularly when she had struggled to understand the character, even if the reactions of astounded spectators can sometimes be a little over-the-top in their appreciation. One thing that’s particularly neat is that when Kyoko acted opposite Ren early on in the series, he was able to coax a good performance from her simply from his own acting. Now she’s capable of doing the same thing with her costar, but doesn’t even realize it. She’s such a great character, normally kind-hearted and fond of girly things, but capable of summoning a demonic aura when she is wronged. When said costar pushes her down a flight of stairs, for example, her first concern is for an armload of sodas she was carrying, but then she laughs evilly and declares, “I’m going to have so much fun with this.”

Have I gushed sufficiently? Skip Beat! may be lighthearted, but it’s tremendous fun to follow Kyoko’s rise to stardom and to root for her and Ren to get together one day, though I’m certainly in no hurry about that. I’ve read twenty-three volumes without tiring of the series in the least, and would happily read twenty-three more.

MJ: You know I’m embarrassed to have never gotten into this series, and now I’m chomping at the bit as well! So much manga, so little time! This really sounds delightful. How many volumes are there in total?

MICHELLE: Volume 27 came out in Japan in February. I’m not spoiled on the goings-on, but I haven’t heard any murmurings of it ending any time soon.

So, if you started with the buoying title, does that mean your other one’s a bit of a downer?

MJ: Mmmm, I’d say “downer” is a pretty strong word, but it’s definitely dark and not as expertly crafted. My other read this week was the second volume of Kim Hyung-Min and Yan Kyung-Il’s March Story, due out soon from Viz.

This series is still very much finding its feet, and nowhere is this more obvious than in this volume’s storylines. While the series’ first volume fell pretty squarely in what’s become known as “Comeuppence Theater,” in which foolish or selfish characters suffer horribly for their vices, this volume leans heavily towards poignance and compassion–still dark, but with a very different tone.

As in the debut volume, “Ciste Vihad” March encounters a number of demons known as “Ill” who lurk in beautiful objects, hoping to possess unwitting humans. In this set of stories, however, most of the Ill are deliberately sympathetic characters whom March feels compelled to help rather than destroy. March’s associates, too, all fairly terrifying in the series’ first volume, have been quite humanized here, particularly the giant-headed Jake and supernatural antique dealer Rodin.

Quite a few of the tales are genuinely touching, involving Ill motivated by love or other emotional attachment they simply can’t let go of. Add in the series’ intricate, latticed artwork, and one must acknowledge some moments of real beauty. It’s a real step forward, I’ll happily admit. I like the series’ new, softer tone.

What this volume suffers miserably from, however, is a maddening lack of its title character. After finally winning us over in the first volume’s late chapters by getting us really invested in March, her creators have all but tossed her aside in favor of these “touching” episodes, sucking out some of the life they’d so painstakingly put into it.

I’m not giving up on this series by any means, and honestly I’d pick it up just for the pictures! But I’m not sure yet what kind of story this wants to be, and I’d guess its creators are (or were, at least) in the same boat.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it does sound pretty uneven. The progress of March’s relationships withi the demons reminds me a bit of Natsume’s Book of Friends, in which the yokai quickly establish themselves as sympathetic. I hope March Story evolves into something as nice as that series.

MJ: I’d be a bit surprised, if only because I think it’s got a different agenda. But there’s definitely stuff to work with if its creative team can find its feet.

So, hey, are you feeling better?

MICHELLE: Yep! And my internet seems to have stabilized. How’s the snow?

MJ: Pretty much petered out, at least for the moment it seems! I call this a job well done!

MICHELLE: I concur!

MJ: Well, goodnight then!

PotW: Bunny Drop & Time and Again

March 21, 2011 by David Welsh, Katherine Dacey, Michelle Smith and MJ 6 Comments

Finally a great week for manga and manhwa! Check out this week’s Picks from the Manga Bookshelf bloggers and special guest Michelle Smith!

DAVID: It’s a good week for Yen Press at Midtown Comics, with several appealing titles on the way, but I have to cast my lot with the third volume of Yumi Unita’s Bunny Drop. It’s about a single guy who takes in his grandfather’s young, orphan daughter, and it’s got a wonderful, smart, slice-of-life approach to the subject matter. Unita really finds the emotional core of everyday moments, and the characters are great. This was one of the great debuts of 2010, and new volumes seem to arrive painfully slowly, so it’s always a joyous occasion.

KATE: I second David’s recommendation! One of the things I like best about Bunny Drop is that Unita doesn’t go for the obvious laughs that are characteristic of the single-guy-becomes-instant-dad genre. Not that the series isn’t humorous; there’s some exquisitely funny material in volume one, for example, as Daichi questions Rin about a favorite stuffed animal. (He thinks it’s a dog, Rin insists it’s a rabbit.) But Unita is more interested in tracking Daichi’s development as a parent than in setting him up to be the straight man for a little kid, a decision that goes a long way to making the story believable.

MICHELLE: It is indeed a good week for Yen Press. While I have no doubt that Bunny Drop is thoroughly awesome, I am going to have to cast my vote for the fifth volume of Time and Again. Though this manhwa is full of intriguing supernatural stories, the most compelling thing about it is the bond between its main characters. Exorcist Baek-On and his bodyguard Ho-Yeon are both attempting to atone for something in their past, and recent volumes have begun exploring those painful memories as well as showing how the men are helping each other to heal. It’s wonderful stuff, and I can’t wait to read more!

MELNDA: This is a really tough choice for me, and though it’s not quite as tough as it might be if I didn’t know that Midtown’s listing of Hikaru no Go 22 is a lie (I bought it myself when it came out in January!), I’m still faced with quite an array of fantastic manga and manhwa. In the end, I’m going to have to be a wimp and agree with all my cohorts above. I simply can’t choose between Bunny Drop and Time and Again. Like Hikaru no Go, actually, both are examples of series I think are richer, quirkier, and more elegantly written than their respective genres necessarily command. In the spirit of Robot 6’s Food or Comics? this week I have to go with comics.

Amazon.com Widgets

Readers, what are your Picks this week?

Manga Bookshelf talks Sailor Moon

March 19, 2011 by MJ, Michelle Smith, Katherine Dacey and David Welsh 21 Comments

Join the Manga Bookshelf bloggers and special guest Michelle Smith in our spontaneous Sailor Moon squee roundtable!

MJ: As most of our readers probably have heard, the big news yesterday in the manga blogosphere was that Kodansha USA is re-releasing Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon. I was pretty excited when I got the press release (there may have been a caps-locked e-mail), but I admit when I examine that, I’m not exactly sure why.

I’m thrilled at the prospect of being finally introduced to a series that was so key in bringing shoujo manga to the US, but beyond that I’m a little bit lost. My only personal experience with the series is a couple of episodes of the anime adaptation that Michelle showed me last year, and from that alone, I don’t feel like I have any real basis for understanding why the series means so much to its American fans.

I think Kate may be in a similar position, so I’m hoping that our squeeful cohorts can shine some light on the subject. Why do you love Sailor Moon, and why will we?

DAVID: I should jump in and admit that my familiarity with the series is entirely based on the anime, though I was quite charmed by it. This was decades ago when it would just randomly be aired on those third-tier non-networks, and I was always game for a half an hour with these girls. This might have been because I was a huge fan of super-hero teams at the time and had a particular weakness for super-heroines who also had rich emotional lives.

While I always loved comics like The Avengers and The Uncanny X-Men, part of me always muttered about the fact that there were too many boys hogging the glory. Every team had its own version of “the girl,” and sometimes they’d even have two, but it was always clear that she was “the girl.” Sailor Moon was such a nice change of pace for that reason — all of the really important, powerful characters were girls, and they had lives outside of the big battles.

MICHELLE: It seems I’m the only one of us, then, who’s read the manga before (albeit with the help of fan-made translations). I was introduced to the anime first, specifically the third or ‘S’ season, and though I probably thought it was a little silly and episodic at first, I was new at the time to the concept of gender-bending characters, so fell hard for the allure of the older sailor senshi, Uranus and Neptune. Perhaps because it was one of the first shoujo anime I ever saw, it holds a very special place in my heart, and really exemplified—especially in its dramatic conclusion, at which all Sailor Moon seasons excel—how different that genre is from American cartoons.

The manga is fun, too, and definitely worth squeeing about, but in some ways I prefer the anime, especially as it allows more time with some of my favorite characters, like Fish-Eye (a villain from Super S) and the Sailor Starlights, and also plays up the flirtatious angle between Uranus and Neptune.

Rereading this response, it seems that I may love Sailor Moon primarily for its gender hijinks, but the drama really is the best part.

KATE: My interest in Sailor Moon is the same as MJ’s — as a historically important shojo manga that introduced a generation of female readers to Japanese comics. What little I’ve seen of the art suggests that I’ll probably be reading the manga as a historian more than a fan, as it’s the kind of wide-eyed, sparkle-riffic style that doesn’t really speak to me. I’m keeping an open mind, however, as the series’ gender politics sound genuinely subversive.

I’m glad that Kodansha decided to re-issue the series. The nostalgia factor will undoubtedly fuel sales, especially among women who want to share Sailor Moon with daughters and nieces, but I also think there’s a new audience for Sailor Moon as well. As David points out, there’s still a dearth of stories about super-powered women (or girls) banding together to save the day. When I was eight or ten years old, that kind of fantasy would have had irresistible appeal, as it was never much fun to fight with female friends over who got to play the token female character when we re-enacted the latest Superfriends episode or favorite scenes from Star Wars.

MJ: I’d love to hear more about the gender politics, actually, should anyone care to elaborate. Squee optional.

MICHELLE: Jason Thompson talks some about that in his excellent piece on Sailor Moon for his House of 1000 Manga column. To quote him:

“But amazingly, years later, when I reread Sailor Moon, I realized it’s actually not even that shojo. Oh sure, it’s got hearts and kisses and accessories, but it’s also got a heavy dose of shonen manga, from the melodramatic fights and deaths and reincarnations to the earth-shattering explosions to the touching friendships. Sailor Moon is shojo for the era of Dragon Ball Z and Saint Seiya. The heroines of series like Wedding Peach and Tokyo Mew Mew can’t match the Sailor Scouts for self-discipline and steely fighting power. By the standards of magical girl manga, that ever-popular genre of manga which is part girl power and part short skirts and pink things, Sailor Moon is butch.”

Plus, in this case it’s the “hero” of the piece, Sailor Moon’s boyfriend, who is chiefly there to look handsome and be rescued.

KATE: That low, throaty sound you just heard? That’s me squeeing. Sign me up!

MJ: I’m with Kate!

Though, interestingly, as a big fan of 1980s & 90s shoujo, I have to say I already associate things like melodramatic fights, deaths, reincarnations and so on with shoujo manga. I guess those things are less common now (at least in the titles we see coming over), but when I think of the stuff that defines “shoujo” for me, those things are a big part of it. Glancing at the section of my bookshelf that is populated with titles from Viz’s old shôjo imprint (Banana Fish, Basara, Please Save My Earth, X/1999), they’re filled with elements like that.

All of you are more knowledgeable about manga history than I am–where does Sailor Moon fall in terms of the evolution of shoujo in Japan?

DAVID: I don’t know that it broke any new ground, but Paul (Manga: Sixty Years of Japanese Comics) Gravett credits it with revitalizing the magical-girl genre, which is pretty significant when you consider how much of a staple that genre is, especially in terms of the kind of books that got licensed in the early wave of manga in translation. And it’s generated an enduring franchise, with all kinds of spin-offs and a merchandising empire. Again, that’s not unique, but properties that manage that are always worth noting.

MJ: That’s a great point, David.

Let’s talk magical girl for a moment… I admit it isn’t my favorite shoujo genre. In fact, I can only think of one manga title in that vein I genuinely love. In some ways, I think that is probably what makes Sailor Moon a tougher sell with me (outside of its historical significance) than other older shoujo might be. Do I have a skewed view of the genre?

MICHELLE: I don’t think so, at least given what’s been made available here. Compared to something saccharine like Tokyo Mew Mew, for example, Sailor Moon is by far the better series. Compared to something like Cardcaptor Sakura, though… That’s a tougher choice.

I will say that, while in other series the whole “donning the costume” bit is usually cheesy, I kind of love it whenever it happens in Sailor Moon. I can’t really explain why. In this series, I like their different-colored costumes and various powers, whereas in other series I couldn’t possibly care less. Is some of this nostalgia speaking? Quite possibly. I’m not sure how this would play to a seasoned manga reader who is encountering it for the first time.

DAVID: I think those transformations are so important, like the ones in the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman. Instant, empowering makeover, style plus power.

KATE: For me, my reluctance to embrace magical-girl manga is a direct reflection of the advanced age at which I started reading comics. I found tough, adult women more appealing as avengers, enforcers, and butt-kickers than teenage girls because they were a lot closer to me in age than the heroines in Sailor Moon and Cardcaptor Sakura.

MICHELLE: If you want tough, determined enforcer types, then you will probably like Sailor Uranus. I mean, these aren’t just a bunch of girls in cute, matching outfits. They have individual personalities, though I do think these are probably more fully explored in the anime. Some of the girls are more frivolous (Minako is actually more serious in the manga, if I recall rightly), but the older senshi in particular are pretty poised and mature. One of them is a college student studying physics, for example.

KATE: That’s good to hear, Michelle! The few magical girl manga I’ve read just made me feel hopelessly old, you know?

MJ: I’m glad you mentioned age, Kate, because though I find I still personally identify with my long-gone teenaged self much more than a woman my age should, I think my age might have something to do with my reaction to most magical girl manga. I’m ashamed to say, though, that even more of it may have to do with the point Michelle and David brought up, and that would be… the clothes. Heh.

This is something I’m struggling to reconcile in myself, actually. I look at this cover, for instance, and I have two negative reactions immediately. One is to seeing a character I know is supposed to be a warrior of sorts in a tiny little skirt, and the other is to the use of the word “pretty.” There’s a part of me that really hates for these things to be important. I know none of this is unique to magical girl manga (or even manga in general) and it’s not that I have a problem with style. I just want it to be less important than other things. Yet, I know that when I was a young girl, I would have loved that little skirt and thought it was the prettiest thing in the world! I also actually quite like the color pink. I’m a mess of contradictions, really. But is it just me?

DAVID: Obviously not. I contradict myself constantly. And I’ll do so again by saying I’d love to see a josei take on this genre.

KATE: Oh no — me, too, MJ! I love me a nice dress and pair of shoes as much as the next gal, but my inner warrior chafes at popular entertainment that unironically packages strength, intelligence, and competence in frills and sparkles. At the same time, however, I’d have to concede that looking good can be a powerful confidence-booster. Even though I dress like a slob when I go for a run, I always make an effort to look smartly coordinated when I participate in a road race.

I guess I’m a confused hypocrite, too.

MICHELLE: Does it help if I say these girls aren’t sexualized at all even though they wear these outfits? And it’s Sailor Moon who declares herself pretty. It’s kind of empowering, actually.

MJ: Michelle, that does help a bit. And David and Kate, I’m grateful to hear I’m not the only self-contradictory soul in the room. David, I love the idea of a josei “magical woman” series. That’s something we really haven’t seen over here have we? Would you put Wonder Woman in the western version of that category? Or is she too much written for male readers?

MICHELLE: Oh, I’d love to see a josei magical woman series. There’d be so many extra complications. I think Fumi Yoshinaga should write it.

KATE: I love the idea of josei Wonder Woman — I would totally read that!

Actually, Wonder Woman’s costume is just as absurd as the Sailor Moon girls’, though I loved Jim Lee’s recent WW makeover. Her new outfit is sleek and sexy, but still conveys WW’s physical strength. Plus it actually looks like something that a real female athlete could wear while she was running or jumping, something I can’t say for most superhero or magical-girl costumes.

MJ: I think one of the things that always gets me about these types of costumes is all the bare flesh. And I don’t mean that in terms of how revealing they might be. I just keep thinking how horribly scraped and bloodied up a person would get, fighting with bare legs. Human skin is so fragile!

MICHELLE: I seem to recall them getting scraped up a little, but most of the enemies’ attacks are of the energy-draining variety, so there’s very little close combat going on.

DAVID: I have to admit that I always found the battles in the anime to be amusingly baffling. Maybe it’s because I didn’t watch it from start to finish in a coherent order, but the combat moves, the announcing of everything that was happening, the sparkly visual effects… I’m obviously used to that sort of thing now, but back then, it was almost hallucinogenic.

KATE: Switching gears a bit, do you agree with me that there’s a new audience out there just waiting to discover Sailor Moon, or is its appeal strictly nostalgic? If there is a new audience for Sailor Moon, do you think the series will play a critical role in bringing new readers to the medium again, or will it be a blip on the manga radar?

DAVID: I was wondering the same thing, but one thing I’ve noticed in the responses I’ve seen to the news is excitement over the chance to give it to a new generation of readers. It seems like there’s an army of Sailor Moon fans from its original run waiting to hand it off to their daughters and nieces and little sisters and so on. I don’t know if that guarantees commercial success, but I think it will help. And the fact that this is a different, by all accounts more attractive package with a sure-to-be-excellent translation from William Flanagan suggests to me that the original audience will also be going back to the well.

kATE: I also wonder if Sailor Moon will look too dated to teens — the artwork in Sailor Moon isn’t as radically different from what VIZ and Tokyopop are licensing now as, say, Swan or From Eroica With Love, but it definitely has its own look and feel. Teens tend to be pretty ruthless critics when it comes to judging manga artwork, especially if the characters’ clothing or hairstyles obviously belong to another era.

MJ: I’d like to think there could be a new audience. Tween girls in particular I think would be less turned off by the series’ dated look than teens might. I know I never noticed things like that when I was their age. Those girls would be its best chance of bringing new readers to the medium, I think. The other new audience is perhaps readers like you and me, Kate, who missed out on the manga when it was released by Tokyopop, and would be looking at it as a significant historical specimen. But we’re already manga readers, of course.

DAVID: I know I pick on her a lot, but Arina Tanemura’s manga seems to do okay with a contemporary audience, and I don’t think her aesthetic is that far away from Naoko Takeuchi’s, though Takeuchi’s seems to possess more clarity. (It would have to.) It does raise the good question of whether or not to brand the book as a classic, relatively speaking. “Your mom loved it when she was your age” may not be the best incentive for certain consumers.

KATE: Good point — a lot of Tanemura’s hardcore fans love her primarily for her distinctive artwork and elaborate costume designs, so maybe the art will be a selling point for Sailor Moon.

MICHELLE: Somehow I missed the fact that William Flanagan is doing the translation! Now I’m even more excited!

I, too, would hope that the influence of mothers and other fans upon the younger generation will help guide them in that direction. The beautiful new covers, too, ought to help temper the more dated interior artwork, and make the series something that beckons from the shelf.

MJ: I know when I was young, the secret to “classics” for me was to discover them myself. I might not have loved something that adults were actively pushing on me, but if I found it in the library or a box in the basement, that was pure gold. Obviously these books aren’t going to be in the basement, but if just a few tweens and teens discovered them on their own, they’d be the best ambassadors to other girls their age.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to open the floor for any general squee that’s been suppressed here in this very orderly, grownup conversation. Got any?

MICHELLE: I think I pretty much exhausted my supply of squee yesterday, like when I proposed marriage (bigamy, really) to Kodansha on Twitter, but I admit that I am really looking forward to how others are going to react to this manga. I hope I haven’t hyped it up too much because, again, it’s not flawless or anything, but it really is fun. I’m especially keen to see the reaction to those incantations David mentioned, because some of them are… special. My own beloved Seiya has a doozy in “Star Serious Laser,” but there is one that surpasses that which I will allow you two to discover on your own.

Okay, in thinking about that, I found a hidden reserve of squee. Here goes: OMG, THE SAILOR STARLIGHTS!

MJ: Okay, given what I’ve already said in this discussion, I am definitely not supposed to love those outfits. BUT I DO.

MICHELLE: I love the Starlights so much that even when I thought I had calmed my squee, they proved me wrong.

DAVID: I just want to say that I was uninspired by Kodansha’s initial announcements, but this gives me reassurance that they’re going to be ambitious from time to time, and that makes me squee.

KATE: I’m not much for squeeing, but I’m also delighted that Kodansha is digging into its back catalog; it gives me hope that they’ll take a risk on even older material like Haikara-san ga Toru.

MICHELLE: And, actually, maybe Sailor Moon will help fund some less commercially successful titles, like a continuance of Nodame Cantabile, perhaps! And I’ll still hold out hope for Hataraki Man.

MJ: I share all your hopes, indeed. Thanks everyone, for joining me in this conversation today!

I Am All Asquee

March 18, 2011 by Michelle Smith

KODANSHA USA ANNOUNCES THE RETURN OF SAILOR MOON
I don’t ordinarily post publicity announcements, but when it’s something this awesome, I simply must. Thank you a million times, Kodansha Comics. You may look forward to a lot of my money.

Update: Kodansha USA Publicity confirms that there will be a new translation, although they can’t comment on specifics just yet.

NEW YORK, New York – March 18, 2011 – Kodansha USA Publishing, a subsidiary of Kodansha, announced today the exciting return of Naoko Takeuchi’s SAILOR MOON, one of the most significant names in comics and manga, to US publishing. Brand new deluxe editions of the acclaimed series will be released by Kodansha USA’s Kodansha Comics imprint in September 2011. Out of print for six years, SAILOR MOON re-launches along with Takeuchi’s two-volume prequel series CODENAME: SAILOR V, in print in the US for the first time—making this one of the most highly anticipated manga releases in years.

The SAILOR MOON manga, which originated in Japan in 1992 and debuted in the US in 1997, follows Usagi Tsukino, a young girl who transforms into super heroine Sailor Moon to combat evil and fight for love and justice in the name of the Moon and the mysterious Moon Princess. The first successful shôjo (girls’) manga release in the US, SAILOR MOON changed the book landscape and helped establish the foundation for the manga craze; in particular drawing attention to the popularity of comics among female readers.

Prequel series CODENAME: SAILOR V, the first of Takeuchi’s “magical girl” manga, will make its highly anticipated debut in the US alongside the SAILOR MOON re-launch. In CODENAME: SAILOR V, teenager Minako Aino fights as Sailor V against the villains of the Dark Agency before she discovers Sailor Moon.

The Kodansha USA editions of SAILOR MOON will be published on a bi-monthly schedule and follow the 2003 Japanese re-release format of the classic series. The original 18 volumes have been condensed into 12 volumes covering the main storyline, and two volumes dedicated to short stories. Each volume has gorgeous new cover art, retouched interior art and dialogue along with extensive bonus material from Takeuchi, and detailed translation notes.

One of the most recognized manga and anime properties in the world, SAILOR MOON took American pop culture by storm, with mentions in music (“One Week” by Barenaked Ladies), bestselling books (The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot) and more. In Japan, over 15 million copies have been sold and the series has generated everything from animated features to live action musicals, a live action television series and countless merchandise.

“I’m very excited to reintroduce Ms. Takeuchi’s work to her American fans,” said Yoshio Irie, president and CEO of Kodansha USA Publishing. Irie is also the former chief editor of Nakayosi magazine in which the SAILOR MOON manga was serialized. “As we continue to build the Kodansha Comics manga list, a title like SAILOR MOON is the jewel in our crown. As the former chief editor of the work in Japan, I’m especially thrilled to finally release the prequel, CODENAME: SAILOR V, to the many fans who have been asking for it at long last.”

About Kodansha USA Publishing
Kodansha USA Publishing, LLC, a subsidiary of Kodansha Ltd. aims to bring the best names in manga to the North American market, and partners with Random House Publisher Services for distribution. www.kodanshacomics.com

About Kodansha Ltd.
Kodansha Ltd. is Japan’s largest publisher, with its headquarters in Tokyo. Originally established in 1909 by Seiji Noma, the company is still a family-run business. Under the leadership of Sawako Noma, company president since 1987, Kodansha continues to play a dominant role in the media world, producing books and magazines in a wide variety of genres including literature, fiction, nonfiction, children’s, business, lifestyle, art, manga, fashion, and journalism. Recently, the company has ventured into digital distribution of content as well. www.kodansha.co.jp/english

Five Children and It by E. Nesbit: B+

March 17, 2011 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
‘It’ is a Psammead, an ancient, ugly and irritable sand fairy the children find one day in a gravel pit. It grants them a wish a day, lasting until sunset. But they soon learn it is very hard to think of really sensible wishes, and each one gets them into unexpected difficulties. Magic, the children find, can be as awkward as it is enticing.

Review:
After reading and really enjoying The Railway Children, I decided that I definitely needed to read more by E. Nesbit. Five Children and It was my first pick, because I’ve been curious about the book for ages. Expect to see more Nebsit after this one!

Five Children and It (1902) actually has some things in common with The Railway Children (1906). It’s obvious from the titles that both feature kids, but more specifically these kids are siblings from the city who are moving into a new house in the country. Both stories are told by a companionable and amusing narrator. In the case of the latter book, the kids meet and help a lot of new people, and a warm, feel-good tone is the result. There is, alas, less of that feeling in Five Children and It, though it’s still an imaginative and entertaining tale.

Cyril, Anthea, Robert, Jane, and “the Lamb” (the nickname for the youngest, a two-year-old boy whose given name is Hilary) have just moved into their new house, and are keen to explore. One day, when their mother has gone off to tend to her ailing mother, their wanderings take them to a nearby gravel pit, where they dig and find a strange creature called a psammead, or sand-fairy. The psammead agrees to grant the children one wish per day, the results of which will disappear at sunset, and the majority of the book is made up of their wishes and the usually unpleasant repercussions thereof.

Nothing ever seems to turn out like they hope. When they wish for money, it comes in a form unrecognizable and unaccepted by local merchants. When they wish for wings, they fail to account for how hungry the exertion of flying will make them, and end up stranded on a rooftop after stealing someone else’s dinner. When they wish they lived in a castle, it’s ill-defended and in the midst of a siege. Each time, they attempt to learn from what went wrong and get the best from their next wish, but by the time their mother returns home they’re quite ready to quit with the wishing altogether. If I had to pick a theme for the book, I’d say it’s “be content with your lot.”

What’s really nice about the story is that the kids aren’t idealized at all. In fact, Nesbit says up front that they can be tiresome, and they’re shown being disagreeable often enough. They’re also, however, shown being clever and level-headed, particularly Anthea, the oldest girl. It takes a while for them to emerge as individual characters, though, and I’m still not really sure how to describe Jane, the youngest girl. This is another aspect in which The Railway Children is the superior book, since each of those characters is memorable and distinct. I do think, though, that Anthea and Railway‘s Roberta would like each other very much. In fact, now I kind of want to read fanfic in which they hang out and are sensible together.

In the end, I definitely enjoyed Five Children and It and look forward to reading its two sequels, but it doesn’t supplant The Railway Children as my favorite Nesbit so far.

Off the Shelf: The Lost Hour

March 16, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MICHELLE: It’s started! It’s started! No, I don’t mean Off the Shelf, I mean Daylight Savings Time! DST, I <3 you so! MJ: I’d like to share your enthusiasm, but the fact is, it’s now dark in the morning when I walk my dog. I hate getting up in the dark. Also, I am sleepy. So I am Daylight Savings Time’s March Scrooge. I’m recover in a month or so.

MICHELLE: I admit getting up in the dark is no fun, but I just love the height of summer when it’s almost 9 and still light out!

Anyway, if you can’t share my enthusiasm for DST, is there anything else you *can* feel enthusiastic about?

MJ: Well, if we’re talking about manga, mostly yes. Wanna hear about what I’ve been reading?

MICHELLE: Of course!

MJ: I’ll start with my debut manga for the week, volume one of Oresama Teacher by Izumi Tsubaki, author of The Magic Touch, a series I mostly loathed. I was quite pleasantly surprised, then, to find this volume rather to my liking.

After being expelled from her high school for repeated fighting, Mafuyu is ready to turn over a new leaf at her new school in the country. Unfortunately, she gets off to a rough start by unknowingly getting into a fight right in front of her soon-to-be homeroom teacher! Furthermore, when she tries to befriend a tough classmate, Hayasaka, he reads her energy as bloodlust, setting her up in his mind as pretty much her old, badass self. As her friendship with Hayasaka progresses (against all odds) and new truths about her teacher begin to come to light, Mafuyu finds herself struggling to reconcile who she was with who she wants to be.

That sounds a bit serious and angsty as I type it all out, but the truth is, this manga is just great fun. Unlike The Magic Touch, which I once accused of having “all the crucial elements of a fun shojo romance” while going out of its way to focus on their least interesting aspects, Oresama Teacher has got fun down pat. Its hijinks are genuinely amusing (especially Hayasaka’s consistent misreading of Mafuyu’s friendly overtures), its characters genuinely odd (I won’t even go into the deep issues of the homeroom teacher, Saeki), and its heroine genuinely spunky, which is always a winner with me.

I’m even enjoying Tsubaki’s artwork quite a bit, which I characterized as “serviceable” in my review of The Magic Touch‘s first volume. I’m finding her work here to be energetic and expressive, words I never would have used to describe her earlier series.

I should mention, too, that this is one of the few manga I’ve read where I’ve found a potential romantic pairing between a teacher and a teenaged student to be even remotely palatable. It’s still got its creepy aspects (hell, there’s not much about Saeki that’s not creepy), but the characters’ mutual backstory sets them up in a fairly unusual relationship that sort of supersedes their current circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, if I’m ‘shipping, I’ll be all about Mafuyu and Hayasaka, but the dynamic with her teacher is pretty interesting on its own.

Overall, I just really had a good time with this. It was an unexpected pleasure.

MICHELLE: That’s great to hear! I never did brave The Magic Touch, but I really like stories wherein a problem teen seizes the chance to turn over a new leaf (like Very! Very! Sweet). Plus, I have to give points for the name Mafuyu, which I don’t think I’ve run across in manga before!

MJ: Oddly, I feel this series has the potential to go kinka dark, which I doubt it actually will, but even just the fact that it could gives it a bit of oomph, in my book.

So what about you? Anything to get enthusiastic about, manga-wise this week?

MICHELLE: Mm, not exactly enthusiastic, no, but definitely optimistic.

I’ve got a debut manga of my own to discuss this week, which is Clean Freak, Fully Equipped. (Note: The volume offers no fewer than three variants on this title, punctuation-wise. Two of them are incorrect (no hyphens are required), so I’ve gone with the version that appears at the end of each chapter.) I must admit I didn’t have very high hopes for this weird little series, but it actually surprised me by eliciting a few giggles.

The basic premise is that Sata Senda was a normal little kid until an encounter with a wanton booger-squisher prompted him to develop an extreme phobia for germs. He’s able to conquer his fears when it matters, though, like when the girl he likes gets motion sickness on the bus, or when his new, equally odd friend in middle school attempts to use a precious raincoat to keep some potato plants from drowning in the rain (I am not making this up.) Gradually, he makes a few more new friends, who are accepting of his quirks.

It’s a little irksome watching Senda make progress only to have him relapse at the start of the next chapter, and the crowded and inconsistent art is certainly nothing to write home about, but the silly sense of humor goes a long way in making this series a fun read. For example, Senda’s parents find him hilarious, and they enjoy laughing at him and taking pictures of the elaborate defensive garb he’s devised for himself. Also, when the girl he likes moves away to “New York,” there’s a running gag where she keeps sending him pictures in which she’s accompanied by wild animals like lions and polar bears. Lastly, I never thought a picture of a sad bunny could be funny, but Clean Freak, Fully Equipped manages it.

In the end, it’s far from perfect, but it’s much better than I expected!

MJ: I’ve been interested in this title since it arrived in my mailbox, but I admit my first thought was… how will this go over with people who suffer from real germ phobia? Is the protagonist’s plight taken seriously enough to be relatable for them, or does it just poke fun?

MICHELLE: It is not taken even the littlest bit seriously. It’s always the source of a gag, and even to me, it seemed that Senda didn’t really have it, if he was able to get past it so easily when his friends needed him. Realism, this is not.

MJ: Good to know, good to know.

MICHELLE: What else have you got this week?

MJ: Well, this week I also checked out the second volume of the manga adaptation of My Girlfriend’s a Geek, based on the novels by Pentabu. I liked the first volume better than a lot of manga bloggers did, and I’m definitely still having fun with it, with really just a single caveat.

In this volume, our hero, Taiga, is deep into writing a BL novel for his new fujoshi girlfriend, and though he’s clearly embarrassed, he’s also pretty serious about the writing (which is damn charming, if you ask me). A trip to a school-uniform-themed cafe with Yuiko and her like-minded friends is a bit more than he can take. And an encounter with Yuiko’s elegant boss (nicknamed “Milan”) incites a sudden sense of rivalry in Taiga, causing him to foolishly proclaim his determination to become a “moe seme,” despite the fact that he’s not entirely sure what that is.

What’s charming about this series is that it winks equally at the Taigas and Yuikos of this world, making affectionate fun of both but never crossing over into satire, which would be far too cutting in this context. Pentabu actually manages to realistically evoke both the fun of being a fujoshi (or any other kind of intense fan) and the ways in which it can become isolating from those on the outside. Taiga’s experience in the cafe paints this perfectly, for instance, rendering the girls both adorable and obnoxious in their fandom, as Taiga swings between feelings of appreciation and alienation. There are some potentially deep things lurking here under the surface, and I find I’m eager to read the novels to see what’s really in there.

As a veteran of slash fandom, I find the series both genuinely amusing and a tiny bit humiliating. Fortunately, the characters are charming enough to keep the latter to a minimum.

Now to the caveat. The one thing that strikes me as odd through this entire series so far, is that though Taiga is clearly into Yuiko, and Yuiko has quite a few fantasies that involve Taiga, the two of them together actually don’t seem to have much of a sex life at all. And while I guess this could be played for humor, you’d think there would be some actual frustration on the part of our POV character, at least. I find that really strange.

MICHELLE: I’ve been considering reading the novels first, actually, especially since the second and final one just came out. That’s very interesting about the perspective on fandom; I find I experience something similar with my enthusiastic friends on occasion. Your last paragraph makes me wonder, though, whether Yuiko really likes Taiga for himself, or if she just likes the idea of him.

MJ: That’s a very good question. And though the series’ light tone makes me doubt it’ll leave Taiga ultimately heartbroken, I guess we never know!

So, what else have you got for us?

MICHELLE: The cutingest cute that ever cuted! Well, actually, maybe that’s Chi’s Sweet Home, but the second volume of Eensy Weensy Monster comes close.

Nanoha Satsuki and Hazuki Tokiwa got off on the wrong foot, when Hazuki’s shallow ways irritated Nanoha to the point where she yelled at him for being so empty-headed. Awesomely, this serves as a wake-up call to Hazuki, who realizes that he is pretty worthless. He begins spending more time with Nanoha, and by the second volume he’s developed feelings for her. He eventually confesses, which is followed by a cute period wherein he attempts to wait patiently for Nanoha to figure out how she feels about him.

This doesn’t sound like much plot, but that’s because the emphasis is entirely on the characters and their evolving feelings, something at which creator Masami Tsuda (of Kare Kano fame) excels. She’s especially good at showing how each characters’ perspective of the same moment differs, and at eventually bringing them together in a believable way. Too, I love how Nanoha, who is usually drawn in a simple, cute style, becomes lovelier when seen through Hazuki’s eyes. It’s a subtle difference, but makes a big impact.

This two-volume series is also unique for its twelve-chapter structure, which follows the couple over a year of their acquaintance, with each chapter representing a month. The story never gets too bogged down in details as a result, but still charts a satisfying path. I might wish for more, especially about their unique cast of friends, but it isn’t really necessary.

MJ: Oh, that does sound like the cutingest cute! What a great way to wrap up the evening here. I might even forget for a moment about my precious Lost Hour.

So it’s just two volumes, eh? I feel sad about this, even though you’ve already said it’s satisfying as-is.

MICHELLE: Yes, only two volumes, but, in my opinion, the first two volumes of Kare Kano were the best in that series, so it’s probably a good thing that she stopped here. Heck, maybe she agrees with me about Kare Kano. And I bet she agrees about DST, too!

MJ: Perhaps! :D

Okay, the Lost Hour has killed me. I must collapse in a heap.

MICHELLE: Collapse away!

MJ: ‘Night-‘night. *clunk*

Wandering Son 1 by Shimura Takako: A

March 10, 2011 by Michelle Smith

Book description:
The fifth grade. The threshold to puberty, and the beginning of the end of childhood innocence. Shuichi Nitori and his new friend Yoshino Takatsuki have happy homes, loving families, and are well-liked by their classmates. But they share a secret that further complicates a time of life that is awkward for anyone: Shuichi is a boy who wants to be a girl, and Yoshino is a girl who wants to be a boy. Written and drawn by one of today’s most critically acclaimed creators of manga, Shimura portrays Shuishi and Yoshino’s very private journey with affection, sensitivity, gentle humor, and unmistakable flair and grace. Volume one introduces our two protagonists and the friends and family whose lives intersect with their own. Yoshino is rudely reminded of her sex by immature boys whose budding interest in girls takes clumsily cruel forms. Shuichi’s secret is discovered by Saori, a perceptive and eccentric classmate. And it is Saori who suggests that the fifth graders put on a production of The Rose of Versailles for the farewell ceremony for the sixth graders—with boys playing the roles of women, and girls playing the roles of men.

Wandering Son is a sophisticated work of literary manga translated with rare skill and sensitivity by veteran translator and comics scholar Matt Thorn.

Review:
The main thing I kept thinking about while reading Wandering Son—beyond the continuous undercurrent of general squee—is how things that seem insignificant to one person can be secretly, intensely significant to someone else.

Wandering Son begins simply. Nitori Shuichi (the translation retains Japanese name order) is an extremely shy fifth-grade boy, and as the volume opens, he and his sixth-grade sister, Maho, are preparing for their first day at a new school. Upon arrival, Shuichi is instructed to sit next to Takatsuki Yoshino, a girl so tall and handsome that she’s called Takatsuki-kun by her classmates. They become friends.

One day, when Shuichi goes to Takatsuki’s house to work on some homework, he spies a frilly dress hanging in her room. Perhaps Takatsuki didn’t mean much of anything when she suggested that Shuichi should wear it, but it’s an idea that refuses to leave his head, despite his protests that he isn’t interested. He ends up taking the dress home and giving it to Maho, but its presence in their shared bedroom taunts him.

At this point, Shuichi isn’t thinking about things like gender identity. He’s ten! Instead, he’s dealing with processing the new idea that he could wear a dress and that he might even want to. Slowly, and bolstered by interactions with another encouraging classmate, he begins experimenting. First, he buys a headband. Then he tries dressing as a girl while no one else is home. Finally, when Takatsuki reveals her own treasured possession—her elder brother’s cast-off junior high uniform—he tries going out as a girl in public, with Takatsuki (as a boy) at his side.

One wonders what would’ve happened to Shuichi without Takatsuki to set the example. Would he have become aware of these feelings within himself eventually or been somehow unfulfilled forever? Her comments and her acceptance mean more to him than she knows, as he has a habit of internalizing things that are said to him. After an adorable turn in a female role in a drag version of The Rose of Versailles at school, for example, Maho conversationally notes, “You should have been born a girl.” Again, this is a concept that’s new to Shuichi, but one he gradually comes to believe is true. When his grandmother promises to buy him a present, he visualizes his female form and realizes it’s what he most wants. “Even grandma can’t buy me this.”

I had no problem seeing Takatsuki as a boy throughout, because of her inner certainty and obviously boyish appearance, but Shuichi was more problematic. The moment he confronts the mental vision of what he feels he should be, however, and realizes that he truly wants to be a girl, he starts to become one for the reader. By contrast, it’s shocking when the onset of her first period reminds readers that Takatsuki is biologically female. Though she mostly projects a confident air, her anguish at the undeniable truth that she is not really a boy is intense.

The story is subtle, simple, poignant, and innocent. The tone is matched by Shimura’s uncluttered artwork, which features big panels, little screentone, and extremely minimal backgrounds. These factors combine to make the volume go by quickly, and all too soon it’s over. While waiting for volume two, in which Shuichi and Takatsuki will progress to the sixth grade, I suspect I will have to console myself with the anime adaptation, currently available on Crunchyroll.

The first volume of Wandering Son—published in English by Fantagraphics—will be available in June 2011. The series is still ongoing in Japan, where it is currently up to eleven volumes.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Playing for the Ashes by Elizabeth George: A-

March 10, 2011 by Michelle Smith

Book description:
When country milkman Martin Snell makes his usual delivery to fifteenth-century Celandine Cottage one fine spring morning in Kent, he expects to be greeted by the cottage’s seductive tenant, Gabriella Patten, not the ugly remains of a fire pointing to murder.

As all of England, as well as the magnetic world of national cricket, discovers itself reeling from the shock of this particular crime, Lynley and Havers find themselves working on the most frustrating case of their careers: the perfect crime. When in an act of desperation Lynley breaks department rules to flush out the killer, he risks being pulled from the case and jeopardizes his career with New Scotland Yard.

In Playing for the Ashes, a deft study of human nature and a crime with too much evidence result in a powerful work of fiction that pulls the reader into a fully created world to explore the dark side of passion and self-delusion.

Review:
I would normally never dream of naming the culprit in a review of a mystery novel. But your average mystery novel usually doesn’t have themes, which this one does, and exploring those requires me to divulge some essential details. Major spoilers ahead.

When Kenneth Fleming, a renowned batsman for England’s cricket team, is found dead in his lover’s rented cottage in Kent, a media frenzy ensues. Scotland Yard is called in to assist in the investigation, and Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers must get the truth out of various recalcitrant witnesses before their lack of results sees them ousted from the case. The principal cast includes Jean Cooper, Fleming’s soon-to-be ex-wife; Jimmy Cooper, his grungy and rebellious teenage son; Miriam Whitelaw, Fleming’s former teacher and current roommate and patron; Olivia Whitelaw, Miriam’s estranged daughter and frequent narrator; and Chris Farraday, animal activist and Olivia’s bargemate.

I mentioned above that this work has themes, and the central one seems to be: choices. Everyone in the story is either faced with a choice or dealing with the repercussions of a choice they made in the past. While teenagers, Fleming and Jean chose to have unprotected sex, then chose to marry and keep the baby, putting an end to his scholastic ambitions, much to Miriam Whitelaw’s dismay. Olivia Whitelaw chose to break free of her privileged life and pursue a path of debauchery and drugs.

In the present, Lynley has still not received a response to his marriage proposal to Lady Helen, and he finally insists that she decide one way or the other. Fleming chooses not to reveal that he has decided to cancel a fishing trip with his son to go to Kent and end his relationship with a promiscuous girlfriend, an omission which leads to his death, as Miriam chooses that moment to get rid of the problem girlfriend on his behalf. Jimmy chooses to follow his dad and to later confess to the crime, believing that the person he saw at the cottage that night was his mother.

Despite the objections of his superiors, Lynley chooses to bring media scrutiny down upon Jimmy to exert pressure on Olivia, who must choose whether to reveal admissions of guilt made by her mother, just when the two had achieved some measure of reconciliation brought on by Olivia’s request for help in dealing with her illness, ALS. This choice affects Farraday’s life, as well, since Olivia being in her mother’s care will allow him to spend more time with the woman he loves. Heck, even Havers faces a choice regarding whether to befriend an eight-year-old neighbor!

Another prominent theme is the comparison of platonic love and physical love. Both Olivia and her mother are living with men they love who, though they care for the Whitelaw women, don’t return their feelings in the same degree. Actually loving a man is painful for Olivia, for whom sex has always been a casual thing, since the one person she really wants to be with in that respect sees her only as a friend. Physical relationships are portrayed as fleeting and lust-driven, and George goes a bit overboard in depicting some of these, especially an awful scene occurring between a hostile young Olivia and her father. In fact, much of Olivia’s early narration is frustrating, because she is so insolent as to be borderline intolerable, but by the end of the novel she does become a sympathetic character.

On the whole, despite some unpleasant and unnecessary bits, I liked Playing for the Ashes a lot. I thought it was cleverly constructed and well written, and was impressed that it managed to convey just how much the victim would be missed by those he left behind, something many mysteries fail to do. It made me care about the characters more than the solution, and I actually got sniffly when Lady Helen (who has the best line of the novel in “I’m very nearly frivolity personified”) finally made her decision. Happily, I still have ten more books in this series to go!

Off the Shelf: Business as usual

March 9, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 16 Comments

MJ: So here we are, back to our regular programming after a few “special” weeks in a row. Feels a little strange, doesn’t it?

MICHELLE: It feels totally strange! Where are all the babies and girls living in cellars?!

MJ: Hm, when you put it that way, I’m grateful for a return to normalcy! So what have you got for us, now that we’re comfortably ordinary again?

MICHELLE: A love story between two not-so-ordinary teens!

I’m talking about Portrait of M & N, by Gakuen Alice creator Tachibana Higuchi. I read its third and fourth volumes this week, and I have to say I am pretty frustrated. It’s like that old saying, “The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.” If I didn’t think Portrait was worth getting angry at, I wouldn’t bother, but it really could be so much better than it is and reading it can be a wearying experience because of that fact.

Mitsuru Abe is an elegant-looking, if rather awkward, girl who has been belittled by her mother to the point that she has developed masochistic tendencies. The solitude arising from a sickly childhood, meanwhile, has led Natsuhiko Amakusa to develop a narcissistic fixation on his own beauty. The two meet, bond over their respective secret eccentricities, and eventually fall in love. If the story were solely about two people, different from others, who find love and acceptance with each other, I would probably like it a lot more. And, it’s true, sometimes the story does go in this direction, particularly in these volumes, where Mitsuru and Natsuhiko officially begin dating and immediately have to defend their relationship against Mitsuru’s disapproving family.

Unfortunately, this series has a gimmick, and one that Higuchi cannot resist beating into the ground. When Mitsuru feels pain, a different personality takes over and she pretty much glomps whoever inflicted it. And whenever Natsuhiko spies his reflection in a mirror, he goes off on rhapsodies of self-adoration. I was tired of this by volume two, and the fact that it’s still the punchline in volume four leaves me shaking my head. And as if everyone is morons and can’t figure out what’s going on despite abundant visual clues and the fact that we’ve seen it many times before, Higuchi also adds helpful narration, like, “He sees himself reflected in the goggles.” I also don’t like Hijiri, an obnoxious classmate who likes Mitsuru, or the frequent breakage of the fourth wall.

And yet, I wouldn’t say I dislike Portrait of M & N. It’s disappointing. It’s maddeningly frustrating. But sometimes, it’s kind of good. And it’s because of those glimmers that it’s worth reading.

MJ: Oh, ugh! I was thinking, “Wow, this actually sounds really good, what kind of crack is she smoking?” all the way up until you got to the part about the gimmicks. I mean. WHY? It’s as though the mangaka thinks that the characters’ issues need to be exaggerated in order to be interesting, when actually the opposite is the case. They’d be much more interesting if they were allowed to just be real, and we could watch the two of them learn to deal with each other and themselves. Ugh.

MICHELLE: Exactly. Sometimes, I feel like I come down too hard on comedies, but there’s a difference between injecting humor into a story that feels like it’s going somewhere—Silver Diamond consistently makes me giggle, for example—and substituting hijinks in place of actual plot momentum and character growth. This manga is much better when focusing on how the leads have changed because of their relationship rather than how they contend with the irksome antics of Hijiri.

Annnnnyway, what ordinary things have you been reading lately?

MJ: Oh, you know, the usual. Ghosts. Curses. Lots of cake. Yes, I’ve indulged myself over the last few days with my latest Pick of the Week, volume eight of Chika Shiomi’s Rasetsu.

Though Rasetu’s actually found true love, it would seem, just in time to save her from the demon who claimed her as his own however many years ago, it also seems likely that the whole thing was a ruse from the start. Not even true love can save Rasetsu from her fate, especially when one of her allies may not be as he seems.

The truth behind one of Rasetu’s ghost-hunting colleagues is finally revealed, and though it’s something I guessed on my own quite a long while ago, Chika throws in some twists that are stunning just the same. And that’s really the secret to this entire manga.

Though the surface elements are very much standard for supernatural shoujo (and romantic shoujo as well, of course), the execution is so fresh and charming, it feels anything but standard. It’s got the comfortable familiarity of a tried-and-true formula, but without the usual pitfalls, which in my mind, is what makes a really good genre series.

Interestingly, too, though we’ve finally hit the best bits of romance here in the series’ penultimate volume, what really shines here is the larger conflict between Rasetsu and her demon predator. For a romance junkie like me, that the rest of the plot would even register at this point is a pretty big deal, so for it to actually grab my focus for the bulk of the volume is significant.

I really enjoy this series, and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for its final volume.

MICHELLE: I really appreciate how you’ve stoked my desire read this series but have almost entirely avoided spoilers at the same time. It almost sounds like Buffy, in that you’ve got these supernatural things going on, and some of them are dire, but the focus is always on the characters, their relationships, and how they are personally affected by whatever the spooky plot happens to be.

MJ: Well, I would say it stops short of the full greatness of Buffy, primarily because it isn’t long enough for the kind of character development that series was able to accomplish, but it’s definitely character-driven and also quite a bit of fun when it’s not in its deepest moments of angst. Well, actually, sometimes it’s fun then, too. I always feel like I need to mention that it gets a slow start, because really the first volume is nothing to get excited over. But it has definitely become a favorite for me over time.

So, what other mundane item have you got in store tonight?

MICHELLE: The thoroughly humdrum tale of a bunch of kids who take turns piloting a giant robot in battles against alien invaders!

I’m talking about Bokurano: Ours, specifically its third volume. Sometimes I feel like I’m alone in my interest in this title. It’s true that it has issues. Most fundamental for some will likely be the fact that “Zearth,” the robot, is powered by the life force of its pilot, which means that kids die. If one can get past this, there’s also the problem that we seldom learn anything about a given kid until it’s their turn to pilot, which means there are a lot of characters sitting around observing the action without really participating much in it.

However, there are some aspects of this series I simply find fascinating, and which keep me reading despite its grim formula. For example… are these alien invaders even real? It’s convenient that the mysterious fellow who tricked the kids into signing contracts knew that exactly fifteen of them would appear, and some elements of the story make me wonder if this isn’t just a game for some alien race’s amusement. The emissary to the kids, for example, is this creepy, pointy-toothed, plushie-like creature named Koyemshi, but he’s much less inclined to dispense helpful advice than to torment them about their impending deaths. In one especially bizarre scene, he addresses a room of empty chairs and explains his approach, saying “Oh? You think I went too far? Oh, come on. I want to see them break down in snotty fits of tears.”

Besides all this, the military has now gotten involved, and their assistance initially gives the current pilot—a neurotic kid named Kako—hope that he might not have to die. When this hope is quickly dashed, he goes berserk, but if he fails to complete the battle in the allotted time frame, Earth will be destroyed! Dun dun dun….

Basically, the main appeal of Bokurano: Ours can be boiled down to, “What the hell is going on?!” Some series that try this approach lose me along the way, but here, I am genuinely interested. My only lament is that volumes do not come out faster, so it will take ages for us to get to the eleventh and final volume where, presumably, concrete answers await.

MJ: Well, hmmmm. I must say this does sound pretty interesting. Now, I tend to appreciate grim stories, so not even the child deaths deter me here, and I admit I’m a little fascinated by the horror that poor kid Kako must be going through. How do they muster the will to keep going when they know they are doomed? I would find that so difficult. I’d go berserk in a second. I’m kind of intrigued.

MICHELLE: That’s dealt with in an earlier volume, when Koyemshi tells them that if they refuse to fight or lose on purpose, Earth will be destroyed. So, either way, they’re going to die. They can either die while protecting the people they care about or they can or they can die alongside them. No pressure, kid! For those who are intrigued, a few chapters are available online at VIZ’s SigIKKI site.

MJ: That’s horrifying! And kind of awesome. I’m definitely intrigued.

MICHELLE: There’s even more horrifying stuff going on, but I can’t reveal everything!

What else have you got?

MJ: Well, actually, I read the first volume of TOKYOPOP’s new series, Yu Aikawa’s Butterfly, which I have to say is one of the oddest little manga I’ve ever read. And I mean that in the best way possible.

Ginji Ishikawa is a high school student who sees the vision of his dead brother every night in bed. Since Ginji’s primary method of dealing with upsetting things is denial, this means that he bases his entire life on the premise that ghosts can’t exist–or anything that smacks of the occult, for that matter.

This belief, in fact, is the biggest factor behind his failure with girls, since he absolutely rejects anyone with even the mildest interest in the supernatural, from haunted houses to horoscopes. It’s strange then, when finds he’s being followed by an elementary school girl who insists that he become part of her ghost-busting business.

Sounds pretty standard, right? I mean, it’s quirky, sure, with the ghost busting and all that, but nothing really strange so far. But that’s only because we haven’t covered yet that the little girl isn’t actually chasing ghosts, but rather living hallucinations she’s able to create out of other people’s thoughts, which she uses to con unsuspecting folks into hiring her as an exorcist. And that the reason she needs Ginji is that his stubborn denial makes him capable of actually destroying her creations (like seriously, by fighting them in one-on-one combat), something she can’t do herself.

And have I mentioned that one of the hallucinations is cute little game character called “Squeakears” (see below), apparently loved by all Japan? And that the little girl is not even a little girl?

(Click for larger view)

As weird as this series is, it’s also really interesting. The characters are all filled with dark little nooks and crannies they’re struggling to hide from everyone else. And the story behind Ginji’s brother’s death is more than spooky. Even Ginji’s odd James Spader-type best friend has some kind of mystery lurking beneath. It’s just the strangest little story, but I really can’t wait to read more.

MICHELLE: Oh, I’m so happy to hear good things about this! Sometimes it can be hard to tell whether a new TOKYOPOP series is going to be good or bad, and this is one that I had some trepidations about. What a delight to instead be reassured!

MJ: It’s strange, it really is, so it may be an acquired taste, but man, have I acquired it. I was really thoroughly charmed.

MICHELLE: That’s the plus side of low expectations—you can really fall in love in a surprising way. TOKYOPOP has done that to me several times.

MJ: Is that actually a good thing? :D

MICHELLE: It’s always a good thing to find a series to love!

MJ: True, indeed!

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PotW: Rin-Ne, Rasetsu, Dogs: Bullets & Carnage

March 7, 2011 by Katherine Dacey, Michelle Smith, MJ and David Welsh 11 Comments

Check out the week’s Picks from the Manga Bookshelf bloggers and special guest Michelle Smith!

From Kate: I’d be the first to admit that Rin-ne has been a hit-or-miss affair. Writing about the second volume, for example, I called it “an unmitigated disaster, filled with clunky exposition, lame adventures, and embarrassingly transparent voice-overs of a ‘Oh, so that’s why no one can see him — he’s wearing the robe that makes him invisible!’ nature.” Yet the first and third volumes were totally charming, filled with inspired comic bits and classic Takahashian characters; anyone who liked Lum: Urusei Yatsura, Ranma 1/2, or InuYasha would find the prickly collaboration between Rinne and Sakura as pleasantly comforting as a bowl of mac and cheese. I’m in the mood for manga mac and cheese this week, so I’m picking volume five of Rin-ne and hoping it’s as solid as volumes one and three.

From Michelle: This week’s pickings include new volumes of several series that I am determined to read in the near future even though I’m woefully far behind. Though I’ll definitely be picking up Arata: The Legend and Rasetsu, it’s the fifth volume of Dogs: Bullets & Carnage I am most determined to acquire. I simply must read this series soon—I’ve been borrowing the early volumes from a friend for far too long!—and slick sci-fi adventure set in a dark future seems awfully appealing right about now.

From MJ: My pick this week is decidedly volume eight of Rasetsu, a supernatural romance series I’ve been enjoying much, much more than I ever expected. In volume seven, things heated up quite a bit in the romance department. This continues in volume eight, but with the stakes rising and a big surprise in store for Rasetsu regarding her personal doom, it’s clear we’re ramping up for a supernatural showdown in the series’ final volume. I’ve been genuinely surprised by how fresh this series manages to feel, especially after its fairly slow start. I wouldn’t miss its penultimate volume for the world. It’s great shoujo fun.

From David: I’m going to second Kate’s choice of Rin-ne for essentially the same reasons — it’s nice to be able to pick up a volume and immerse yourself in Takahashi’s very familiar sensibility. You know there will be endearing characters, good-natured comedy, and a bit of supernatural adventure. As Greg (Read About Comics) McElhatton said in his review, “Even Takahashi on autopilot isn’t bad.” As a bonus, it’s nice to be able to recommend a series where readers can sample so much of it for free.

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Readers, what are your Picks this week?

Off the Shelf: Billionaires, Babies, & Brides!

March 2, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 17 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with MJ & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

MICHELLE: After spending last week’s column discussing the grim misanthropy of Osamu Tezuka’s Ayako, MJand I decided to go a more frivolous route this time. The idea was actually mine, inspired by a list of new Harlequin titles available on eManga.com. Upon perusing said list, I noticed a pattern. See if you can spot it, too!

Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!
A Date with a Billionaire
Claiming His Pregnant Wife
Royally Bedded, Regally Wedded
Powerful Persuasion
The Millionaire’s Pregnant Mistress
Pilgrim’s Castle
The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress
Lovechild

Out of nine titles, three reference pregnancy, three mention weddings or marriages, and two mention billionaires! One mentions a millionaire, but obviously that guy is just not trying hard enough.

Neither one of us was willing to relinquish our claim to the first title on the list, so we both read that one as well as a second choice. (Mine comes from a second, more recent list, which has fewer billionaires but more brides.)

How did you enjoy your foray into romance, MJ?

MJ: Well, Michelle, first off I have to say I was a little disappointed that my first pick, which was listed originally as The Billionaire‘s Boss’s Forbidden Mistress contained a typo, because I was pretty interested in finding out just who the billionaire actually was in a story that was apparently all about his boss’s forbidden mistress. Alas, the mistress indeed belongs to the billionaire, though I’m not sure what makes her forbidden.

Two years ago, Leah was in a car accident that cost her two things, her mother and her husband’s love. Her mother died in the accident, as one might assume, but her husband, the bastard, was driven away by a new scar on Leah’s leg. When a young billionaire, Jason Pollack, buys the company Leah works for, she’s intrigued by him, but too embarrassed by her scar to give in to her feelings. Jason is a widower, still in love with his late wife, but attracted by Leah’s beauty. In the end, the two of them enter into an affair, Leah because she’s just so happy that any man wants her with her scar, and Jason because… well, he just thinks she’s hot. Both claim to be uninterested in love, but what happens when their feelings change?

Though someone could certainly write a really touching romance with these characters–a woman whose self-esteem has been destroyed and a man looking for solace after the death of his wife–author Milanda Lee has not done so, or at least it’s nowhere evident in Megumi Toda’s adaptation. Like much of the Harlequin manga I’ve read, nothing’s given enough time to feel actually real, and as a result, the romance falls flat. Both Leah and Jason’s traumas are too quickly dismissed to gain any kind of traction, rendering the whole thing too sloppy and shallow to be genuinely enjoyed.

MICHELLE: I think a story all about a billionaire obsessed with his boss’s (a trillionaire?) mistress would probably be more interesting than the story you describe. It seems to be a trend that the wrong guy for the heroine in these romances can’t just be a decent person with whom things don’t work out for subtle reasons; he has to be as shitty as possible, like a husband who ditches his wife because of a frickin’ scar.

MJ: Right?? And it’s not like that part isn’t, y’know, poignant, but then when the heroine gets into a loveless relationship just because she’s been so broken by that first, wrong guy, I’d like to see a little more impact. If you’re gonna go for that kind of over-the-top drama, at least use it.

I realize that one of the hardest things to do as a writer is to make a whirlwind romance feel genuine. It’s one of those things that, done well, is plainly exhilarating to read. Unfortunately, if it’s not done well, it just feels empty and not at all romantic.

So, how did you fare with your pick?

MICHELLE: Ai Yazawa could give her lessons on the dramatic potential of choosing the wrong guy! As for my pick, I fared a little better than you did, though I’ve got some of the same complaints.

I had originally intended to read Claiming His Pregnant Wife, but when a second round of Harlequin offerings appeared, containing a book entitled Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows, I ditched my first choice faster than a chick with a scar. (By the way, I told my husband about the husband in your book and his response was, “What a hosebag!”)

Ashley Bennet, the daughter of a rich oil tycoon, never received love from her father and stepmom. Rather than object when her father proposes an arranged marriage, Ashley is bowled over to have someone actually telling her he loves her. Too bad she catches him boffing someone else on their wedding day. She runs off and ends up drunk in a bar, where she meets an earnest cowboy named Ryder McCall. They enjoy a one-night stand and Ashley goes off to be a waitress in a diner.

Ryder, however, is convinced that he loves her and tracks her down. Ashley is dubious, because Ryder is acting like a presumptuous fool, but then reveals she is pregnant. In Harlequin romances, guys are always happy about this. “Yes! This is awesome!” cries Ryder. Ashley’s not on the marriage bandwagon, but eventually takes an accounting job at the McCall farm. Through proximity to Ryder and silly scenes like watching him be kind to a lost kid in a store for, like, two pages, Ashley decides she loves him. Martin the ex-fiancé returns and expresses a desire to get back together (and also informs Ashley that she’ll be having an abortion), but Ryder punches him. Yay! Now they are in the love.

Seriously, this really tries to be good. Ashley is not a wilting flower, which I appreciate, and there are some attempts at humor. Its biggest flaw is, like you mention, everything just happens too fast to feel genuine! I’m a very slow reader, and when I can blow through a story in twenty minutes, then you know it is pretty flufftastic material.

MJ: I do have to wonder if the original novels delve a little deeper, just because they have more time? I think part of the problem with these manga adaptations is that they almost feel more like summaries than stories. I mean, I assume if I went in and actually read Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows it would read almost exactly as your description did, without a lot more time taken at any particular point.

MICHELLE: Yeah, this is one where I actually have some interest in reading the original to see how it compares. You make a great point about my description being about as thorough as the book itself is, because that’s true. That scene where Ryder demonstrates his capability to be a good dad, for example, quite literally takes all of two pages. The end result is just too simplistic to be believable.

Should I take a stab at summarizing our tandem pick, Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!?

MJ: Oh, you know I love it when you summarize!

MICHELLE: I will do my best!

Two years ago, when famous Italian actor Mateo D’Arrezo was in England doing Shakespeare, he came across a local actress named Jennifer Wallen starring as Ophelia in a production of Hamlet. He was instantly smitten by her ability to refrain from being instantly smitten by him, and they start dating. Eventually they marry, even though her mother warns that all men are scum. The marriage does wonders for Jennifer’s career, but she’s no longer the wide-eyed girl Mateo originally fell in love with.

Busy schedules and a scheming manager keep them apart, and when a photo of Mateo kissing a co-star is published, Jennifer assumes the worst and initiates divorce proceedings. She still loves him, though, and when they run into each other while in Cannes to promote a film they made together, they end up getting it on in an elevator. Guess what happens next? If your answer is, “They make a showbiz baby,” award yourself a taco!

Mateo, of course, is delighted by this news. He’s being so sweet and solicitous that Jennifer learns to trust him again and even when the vengeful co-star claims to be pregnant herself, Jennifer’s faith in him remains firm. After a little bit of peril for the baby, they apologize to each other and admit their mistakes. The end.

MJ: Excellent summary, m’dear. So. Okay, here are a couple of my particular issues with this story. First, I find the amount of time Mateo spends defending his betrayal as “just a kiss” seriously laughable. I mean, come on. It’s only cheating if he sleeps with her? Making out with other women is totally kosher?

Secondly, what was up with totally dropping the ball on the scheming manager? They make all this fuss about how the guy is keeping Jennifer’s calls from getting through, but then… nothing happens. The manager’s not upset they’re back together. Mateo seems unconcerned that his staff has nearly ruined his marriage. The whole thing is just… dropped. What’s the point of inserting that kind of melodrama if you’re not even going to make anything of it? GIVE ME MRS. DANVERS OR GIVE ME DEATH. Or something like that. You get my point.

MICHELLE: I was sure there was going to be some explanation by which Mateo was not even responsible for the kiss, but at least that didn’t come to pass. And you’re totally right about the asshole manager. Mateo doesn’t even chew him out for his actions. This is the same guy who basically said that Jennifer neglected her husband (how dare she pursue her own career!) and should expect a little infidelity. What specific grudge he has against her isn’t mentioned and, in fact, he’s the one who takes Mateo to see her perform in the first place.

MJ: I have to think that the manager must be a little more deliciously evil in the novel. Or at least I’m going to go on pretending that’s the case, because overall, this story was a least a bit more solidly put together than The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress.

People should really be clear on this fact though: we fought over who would get to read this manga. That’s how excited we were over the title alone. I have to say, overall, it wasn’t worth the fight.

MICHELLE: Yeah. Now I regret all that hair-pulling I did. But this does lead to another point on which people should be clear, which is that although neither of us is really a Harlequin reader, we didn’t approach the endeavor with the intent to just make fun of Harlequin or anything. I always want to like whatever it is I’m reading, and I certainly didn’t hate these or anything; they were just disappointing.

MJ: Yes, that’s absolutely the case. I love romance, I really, really do, and I always want to like these when we decide to dig into them. I expect we haven’t quite given up on them yet!

MICHELLE: I expect you’re right. Maybe next time we should try ones with more staid titles, like Pilgrim’s Castle. Though probably it is light on actual pilgrims.

MJ: I suspect that’s actually a blessing.

MICHELLE: I don’t know; at least they probably wouldn’t be accepting pregnancy with a cavalier attitude!

MJ: Perhaps not, but I’d hate to see the outfits. And the dialogue? I think we’re better off in billionaire showbiz boss territory.

MICHELLE: Don’t forget the babies and brides!

Check out more Harlequin manga at eManga.com. And join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Pick of the Week: Kiss, Taro, Teacher

February 28, 2011 by MJ, David Welsh, Katherine Dacey and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

It’s a Viz-centric week according to Midtown:

From David: My pick this week is the second volume of Julietta Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss (Viz). I wasn’t very inspired by the notion of this book until I read some of Suzuki’s Karakuri Odette (Tokyopop) for a recent Manga Moveable Feast and was very taken with Suzuki’s quirky, thoughtful writing. As I noted about the first volume, “It’s got grumpy, likeable leads, a solid premise, and an endearing look to it.” And Kate noted something very central to the appeal of the series and its protagonists in her review of the first two volumes: “Making those tart exchanges more entertaining is the fact that Nanami and Tomoe are equally matched.”

From Kate: Once again, I’m going to wear my Good Comics for Kids hat and recommend a title for the under-ten crowd: Taro and the Terror of Eats Street, which is published by VIZKids. The series focuses on Taro, a young cartoonist, who creates the fictional world of Doodledom. When an eraser-wielding maniac threatens Taro’s characters, he uses a magic pencil to leap into the page and join the fight, drawing weapons and cool getaway vehicles whenever he’s in a pinch. The first volume of the series, Taro and the Magic Pencil, was so imaginative, funny, and fast-paced that I’m willing to bet that Eats Street will be a winner, too. Like the Panda Man books, Taro and the Terror of Eats Street also includes games and puzzles. The fun part: those activities are actually part of the story, not an afterthought, making for a more interactive reading experience for elementary school readers.

From Michelle: Although I am very keen to read the second volume of Kamisama Kiss, I am going to go with Oresama Teacher for my pick this week. It’s a new Shojo Beat series about a girl with a delinquent past who’s been given a chance to start over at a new school. Best of all, she seems inclined to seize the opportunity to change, which reminds me of Very! Very! Sweet, a manhwa I enjoy a lot. Of course, this is by the same author of Magic Touch, about which I heard mixed opinions, but I’m hopeful that it will be as fun as it looks.

From MJ: I’m going to bring this mini-roundtable full circle and agree with David. Volume two of Kamisama Kiss is my Pick of the Week. Here’s a bit from my review of the first volume: “What I especially appreciate about this series, is that regardless of Tomoe’s tremendous superiority complex, he’s far too lazy to be controlling like so many shoujo love interests, and even his surliness is kept staunchly at bay thanks to Nanami’s power of kotodama, which forces him to do her bidding whether he wants to or not. In a way, Kamisama Kiss is everything that Black Bird could have been if not for its heavy misogynist overtones. Like Misao, Nanami’s surrounded by yokai who would just as soon eat her if they had the chance, but unlike Misao, Nanami has agency, and that makes all the difference in the world.”

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So, readers, what are your Picks this week?

Off the Shelf: Ayako

February 24, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 23 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with MJ & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, Michelle and I take a break from our regular format to focus on a single title, Osamu Tezuka’s Ayako, published in English by Vertical, Inc.

MJ: So, Michelle, read anything incredibly depressing lately?

MICHELLE: Ha! Y’know, I actually found Ayako more confounding than depressing. Perhaps that’s because I just recently read some Barefoot Gen, which is an even bigger downer.

MJ: Oh, interesting. What confounded you so about it? Or are we just getting ahead of ourselves with a question like that?

MICHELLE: I think possibly we are, but in general, I just couldn’t figure out what the whole point of it all was. What exactly was Tezuka trying to say? Perhaps that’s something you can help me with.

MJ: I do have some ideas about that, yes. To make things easier on ourselves and our readers, though, maybe we should start with the basic plot. Want to take a stab at it?

MICHELLE: Somehow I knew my summarizin’ skills would be called upon! :) Spoilers ahead.

The story begins in 1949, when former POW Jiro Tenge returns home after the war to a chilly reception from his father, Sakuemon, who is described as arrogant, lecherous, and “thoroughly contemptible,” and learns that he has a new little sister. The girl, Ayako, is the product of Sakuemon’s liaison with his daughter-in-law Su’e, who has been offered up by her husband (Jiro’s elder brother) in exchange for a larger share of Sakuemon’s inheritance. Jiro is appropriately creeped out.

At first it seems like he’s going to be the sane one amidst his bizarre family, but then it’s revealed that he betrayed many of his countrymen at the POW camp and is currently spying for the occupying American forces. When they instruct him to convey a particular corpse onto railroad tracks, he complies, and when Ayako and a playmate later see him washing blood off his shirt, spirals into desperate attempts to cover up his crime, which ultimately leads to Ayako being imprisoned in a storehouse for 23 years while her family members either abandon or violate her.

Ayako finally escapes in 1972 and flees to Tokyo. Jiro, who has changed his name and is now the boss of what seems to be a crime syndicate, has been sending her money for ages and she mistakenly believes he’s her benefactor. Some dogged investigators won’t let up on Jiro and, finally, he ends up fleeing back home where all the offending family members get trapped in a cave-in and eventually die, except for Ayako. The end.

MJ: I know I was cruel to make you be the one to do that, but somehow I knew that if anyone could summarize 700 pages of human selfishness and degradation into a few short paragraphs, it would be you. :D

MICHELLE: I really don’t know where to begin with describing the depths of the degradation, honestly. Everyone in the Tenge family is guilty of something. You have the men, who are more obviously guilty of crimes like murder and incest, but the women are equally to blame, for allowing Ayako to be imprisoned and abandoning her to her fate. Nearly everyone wants to possess Ayako for some reason—even the policeman’s son, who attempts to acclimate her to the outside world, says, “Ayako is mine!!!”—while she herself equates feelings of affection with physical love, and so tries to put the moves on various inappropriate people.

There’s substantial violence against women, too, and for a while I thought the book was misogynistic. The only slightly strong female character seemed to be the fellow spy Jiro takes up with for a while, but after an absurdly comical seduction scene she becomes clingy. “Just don’t ever ditch me,” she implores him. But then I realized that the men are all portrayed just as horribly, too. They’re all greedy, sleazy, lust-driven cretins. It stopped looking like misogyny and more like outright misanthropy.

MJ: I don’t think misanthropy is a misread, and it’s an interesting viewpoint from Tezuka, who, though never shy about exposing the darkest aspects of humanity, has in the other works of his that I’ve read still found some kind of hope in it all… something of humanity worth treasuring. Yet here, as you say, everyone is contemptible in some way. All the men are morally wretched beasts, and all the women are helpless to stop them, eventually becoming complicit in Ayako’s ongoing abuse by their inaction. Even Shiro, the youngest of Ayako’s “brothers,” who for the longest time appears to be the one member of the family genuinely interested in doing the right thing (even to his own peril), is eventually corrupted by his own lust, to the point of being just as awful as any of them.

Only Ayako, who is not really a person at all in the construct of the story, remains innocent. And it’s a twisted kind of “innocent” that makes her really unfit to interact with anyone (not that this is a huge loss).

MICHELLE: I wonder if part of Tezuka’s intent was to subvert the audience’s expectation that a hero of sorts would appear. At first, Jiro appears the likely candidate, but that falls through. “Okay, Shiro then,” I thought, since he was such an honest little kid, but he succumbs to temptation and beds Ayako. Finally there’s Hanao, the young man Ayako cohabitates with, who remains more virtuous than anyone else, but still thinks of her as an object. Why did everyone want to possess her, anyway? Is it simply that she’s malleable and nubile?

MJ: I wonder if he just thinks a hero is impossible in Japan of that time. He’s obviously got a lot to say about post-war Japan and the American occupation. He illustrates both the sickness of old Japan (evident in the Tenge patriarch’s unchecked urges) and the sickness of the new (Jiro’s treachery, the government’s treatment of its socialist factions), and presents them as pretty much incurable ills. In Kate’s review, she suggests that it isn’t much of a stretch to see Ayako as a symbol for Japan, abused from all sides, and I have to say that makes a lot of sense to me.

MICHELLE: Ooh, that’s very deep. I’m afraid that thought didn’t even come close to occurring to me. Her eventual accommodation to and preference for remaining isolated and confined takes on a whole new meaning now.

MJ: I hadn’t thought of it in terms of a symbol that big, either, so I can’t take credit. But it seems clear that Ayako really is nothing more than a symbol, and Japan in particular makes a lot of sense. Thinking too, of the inappropriate appetites Ayako develops, without even really understanding what they’re about… it really could be seen as a pretty scathing view of western influence on modern Japan.

Grand symbolism aside, though, I think there’s a lot here being said about the insidiousness of moral corruption… the way it seeps into those who touch it until they become embodiments of the corruption around them. No one escapes, really, and Tezuka takes that to a stunningly literal point by having them actually die in a cave. He goes so far with it, it begins to feel clumsy and overstated. I mean, it’s powerful, there’s really no denying that, but more heavy-handed than is usual even for Tezuka.

MICHELLE: Poor Japan. It just wanted to stay happily in the cellar, but then it read a women’s magazine and now it wants to have the sex.

And yes, you’re right. I particularly found Shiro’s about-face very abrupt. There he is, saying, “I’ve let myself get drenched head t’toe in all th’ Tenge sewage” in a way that suggests he regrets what has happened, but then on the next page he’s dismissing the fact that Su’e was murdered by her husband and declaring, “I’m gonna keep violatin’ Ayako.” What? Shouldn’t there be at least more guilt or something first? I get that Tezuka needed to move the story along, since it spans such a long time, but this development definitely felt clunky to me.

MJ: I wonder if Tezuka betrayed himself a little bit here. You know, there he is, working so hard to show that everyone is inevitably corruptible when placed in an environment of such corruption, and he’s created this powerfully honest kid to make his point. Yet here you are, utterly unconvinced. Maybe that’s his own little shred of hope, betraying him in the background. :)

MICHELLE: Well, I am convinced that Shiro has turned into someone just as contemptible as the rest of them. It was just the speed of the progression that made me adopt my dubious face.

But, y’know, as much as we have mixed feelings about the work in general, it’s a testament to Tezuka’s skills that I devoured 700 pages with relative ease, and even though there were really no characters to care about—Ayako, as you mentioned, is largely a cipher—the momentum of the story kept me interested to the end.

MJ: Oh, absolutely. There’s nothing enjoyable about Ayako, and I wouldn’t say it’s Tezuka in his element. It’s too persistently dark, without enough contrast to gracefully make his point. But I listed it as one of the best manga of last year, because even with all that, it’s still masterful. The visual storytelling is incredibly compelling–I was transfixed by Tezuka’s artwork throughout, even in parts of the story I found most distasteful. A scene in which Shiro is having sex with Ayako, for instance, and the two of them are transported through the skylight (Ayako’s only connection with the world outside her prison) into the night sky… it’s really beautiful, and even moving. Yet it’s one of the more sickening sections of the story, which in a story like this is saying quite a bit.

MICHELLE: By contrast, I snickered heartily at the phallic imagery at play in the scene where Jiro seduces the female spy. It reads as ludicrous to me, but who knows, maybe at the time it was scandalous or something.

MJ: Ha! Yes, that’s perhaps an unfortunate side-effect of this having been created in the 1970s. Sort of the sequential art equivalent of the leisure suit.

MICHELLE: One particularly effective visual passage that I recall happens after Ayako has gone to live with Hanao. He’s gone off for some reason and one of Jiro’s goons sneaks in the window and attempts to ravish her, only to be thwarted by Hanao’s dad. There are about six pages in a row where the panel perspective and size is identical—the interior of this small bedroom—and I thought it was pretty effective in showing that even such an ordinary space can be the venue for violence and commotion. Plus, there are several pages broken up into unique panel arrangements the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else.

MJ: Oh, I know exactly the passage you mean! Yes, there is something really effective about that scene, with the bed sitting there looking so normal all the time. Also, the stationary perspective reminds me of watching a play.

One sequence early on I think works really well, is the set of pages in which Jiro’s accessory to murder is carried out. It’s raining throughout, and we see the train come through and run over the victim, segueing into the older sister waiting for her lover to return on the train. There’s almost no dialogue at all, over the course of several pages, and even one of the few bits that’s there, the sister’s, “No one’s gotten off at all,” actually seems unnecessary.

MICHELLE: It’s a very noir kind of feeling.

MJ: Indeed.

MICHELLE: Talking about that first dirty job reminds me that I found the whole “who at GHQ hired me?” part tacked on at the end to be very random and kind of boring. I never could get very interested in that aspect of the story, and I didn’t understand either how Jiro evidently used the bomb provided by Kinjo to kill the female spy (Machiko?) instead of the American officer he was supposed to target, and yet still got to keep the money and be partners with the guy for the next twenty years.

MJ: I agree, that was the least interesting aspect of the story to me. While I can see why Tezuka wanted to let Jiro escape his fate back home and end up even profiting from it–his affluence and lifestyle change allow Ayako to poignantly mistake him for someone good in her life–the trappings of it all seem pretty clumsy.

MICHELLE: So, I guess what we’re getting at is, the story and characters are not the best, but it’s still a really well-made manga with some possibly deep themes that could escape a casual audience. I mean, I personally classify it as a keeper.

MJ: Yes, I think that’s exactly what we’re getting at. Though Ayako is problematic in some ways, it’s also a genuine work of art. I’d consider it an essential part of anyone’s manga library.

MICHELLE: I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Better Than Life by Grant Naylor: C

February 23, 2011 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
Life just couldn’t have been better—or maybe it couldn’t have gotten worse. Aboard the massive starship Red Dwarf, life was barely happening at all. Holly, the ship’s computer, had gone from super genius to so dumb that even a talking Toaster could hold its own with him. And the only surviving human aboard, David Lister—along with the holographic Arnold Rimmer; Cat, the best-groomed entity in the universe; and the cleaning robot Kryten—was trapped in a game called “Better Than Life.”

At one time Holly could have easily saved them. But right now Holly couldn’t even keep Red Dwarf from colliding with a runaway planet. It looked like Lister might be stuck in the game until he died—or until Red Dwarf was destroyed. Unless, of course, the cheap little Toaster and the cleaning robot could find the way back to reality without killing everyone in the process…

Review:
Every now and then it’s tempting to post a review that consists merely of the word “meh.” This is one of those times.

Better Than Life picks up where the first Red Dwarf book, Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers, leaves off: all four members of the crew are stuck inside the addictive virtual reality game, Better Than Life, leaving Holly (the computer) alone with only a talking toaster for company.

They do eventually make it out, only to discover that Holly, having followed the toaster’s advice, has increased his IQ to over 12,000 but has decreased his remaining runtime to about two minutes. Oh, and there’s an ice planet headed straight for the stalled ship.

From here on out, the book is basically a sequence of dire perils over which four rather moronic characters must somehow triumph. Lister performs a feat of planetary billiards to knock the incoming planet away, but then ends up stranded on it. As it thaws due to the proximity to its new sun, it’s revealed to be Earth, relegated to garbage planet status by the rest of our solar system literally eons ago. There are flying cockroaches. There is a black hole. There’s a fair amount of scientific explanation for things.

And that’s where the book falters. See, as a show, Red Dwarf is a sci-fi comedy. The science takes such a back seat it’s four cars back. Better Than Life, on the other hand, attempts to be comedic sci-fi, but it doesn’t even manage that, because hardly any of it is actually amusing. Even Chris Barrie’s narration—again, excellent with the voices but a bit dodgy with pronunciation—can’t resuscitate what is essentially an exceedingly dull story. There are a few good moments of characterization, however. I especially enjoyed anything that proved that Rimmer really does care about Lister.

We end on another cliffhanger, with Lister transported to a planet on another universe on which time runs backwards. I can only assume that this is what the later book in the series, Backwards, is about. The only thing is… that one’s not available on unabridged audio and though I did procure myself a used copy, I’m not inclined just yet to expend the effort and time that reading a paper book demands. Maybe someday.