Sean Gaffney

By Quin Rose and Mamenosuke Fujimaru, based on the game by Quin Rose. Released in Japan as “Anniversary no Kuni no Alice – Tokeiya” by Ichijinsha. Released in North America by Seven Seas.

You would think that I would have run out of things to say about these volumes. Sometimes I have, when they’re particularly pointless – see last month’s batch of Bookshelf Briefs for my opinion of the Ace spinoff – but there always seem to be a few nuggets of interest to keep me going. It also helps that this volume focuses on one of my favorite of Alice’s romantic choices, Julius Monrey, the clockmaker. (In case you’re wondering about the ‘Anniversary’ thing in the Japanese title, it’s what they called the updated PS3 version of Alice in the Country of Hearts.)

The basic premise won’t be a surprise to anyone who’s read the previous spinoffs of this endless otome game series. Alice is trying to get away from an oppressive Peter White at Heart Castle, so she asks Julius if she can stay at the clocktower for a while. He agrees, and they gradually begin to open up to each other. As their relationship deepens, however, Alice has to not only deal with her own feelings, and the fact that her beloved is not the type to take the initiative, but also realize that Julius is hated by a large number of folks throughout Wonderland. Can she come to terms with what his job really entails? And what of her ever-present need to return to her sister?

Julius is a rarity in the set of Wonderland males that Alice runs into. He’s passive, introverted, and taciturn. He will happily stay in his tower for weeks, just working on clocks and sleeping when he remembers to. After several stories with Blood, or Ace, or the twins, or Eliot, or Boris, he feels like a breath of fresh air. He also causes Alice to need to be more proactive, rather than simply have the love interest be aggressive consistently until she gives in. There’s lots of adorable scenes here.

Also, he’s a mortician. Who can resurrect the dead. Only not really. Wonderland’s weird world, where everyone has clocks instead of hearts, and people can be ‘resurrected’ but aren’t quite the same people they were before, makes almost everyone uncomfortable, and that gets taken out on Julius. He’s clearly not doing this for fun, but it’s his role, and he regards it as necessary. But in a way, hanging out with him is keeping Alice in a constant shadow of death – something that I imagine makes Peter quite nervous, given what they’re all trying to make Alice not remember.

This one-shot also has an unusual ending in that, when Alice confesses her love, she chooses to remain in Wonderland and stop trying to return to her own world. Which she’s done before, but in this case the vial filled with people’s feelings that she carries around throughout the game is seen in the final shot to be shattered at her feet. It’s a striking image, showing that there’s no going back. I will admit I’m not entirely happy with the basic premise of the series being ‘if she remembers her traumatic past that makes it a bad end’, which seems to romanticize denial more than I’d like. Still, it does make for a good capper on what has been a fairly enjoyable, if slight, story.

There are also two Crimson Empire stories at the end. Luckily, they are shorter in length than they were in the Ace book. I say luckily as they were incredibly boring and tedious. Alas, you’re better off with Alice than Sheila.

By Shinobu Ohtaka. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialization ongoing in the magazine Shonen Sunday. Released in North America by Viz.

I like Shonen Sunday series a lot, and I wish they sold better over here, as I’ve noted before. Therefore, when a really good Sunday series debuts, I get a bit excited. Of course, like most really good shonen series, you read the first volume and realize ther4e’s going to be several volumes of setup before we get to the really good stuff. This one is clearly in for the long haul. That said, the worldbuilding is fun, particularly if you are a fan (as I am) of the Arabian Nights stories, which are used as the basis for this series.

The boy on the cover is Aladdin, one of the two main heroes we meet in this volume (we also meet a third major character, but spoilers). Aladdin is very much cut from Luffy stock (the author notes she grew up in high school reading Jump, which sounds like it was right about when One Piece hit it big, so this isn’t surprising), being naive, upbeat, and generally happy-go-lucky. Unlike Luffy, he also seems to have a thing for busty women, though he’s young enough that no one really minds all that much. He carries a flute with a genie inside, which is generally weak/strong depending on how much food he’s eaten, and gives him most of his cool powers.

The other main lead is Alibaba, who is also another common shonen hero. He’s been slightly trampled down by life, and is trying to make it through this world by being a cynical money-grubber. Sadly, he has a good heart and can’t stand injustice, so that doesn’t work out very well for him. It’s not helping that he runs into Aladdin, who frequently serves as his conscience when Alibaba is trying to drown out its loud voice. Alibaba does NOT have a genie who can grant his every wish, so has to get by on street smarts and some basic fighting skills. He makes an excellent contrast with Aladdin.

After the two of them team up, we hit what seems to be the other main feature of this world, at least in this early part of the series: dungeon crawling. Yes, gamers will feel sympathetic here. There’s a twisty maze of passages (all alike) that have to be marked as ‘bad’ by previous dead explorers. There’s hideous creatures, and deadly traps. And there’s also, allegedly, buttloads of treasure. Treasure that everyone seems to have been waiting for a kid like Aladdin and his genie to show up so they can use him to acquire it. As such, we meet, right near the end, the lord of the territory Jamil and his faithful slave (so faithful she returns to him even after getting freed by Aladdin) Morgiana. It’s not entirely clear if this will be our first bad guy or if his ways will be changed by our heroes’ goodness and niceness. I suppose we must wait till Vol. 2 to find out.

Again, there’s not much that’s original here. But it’s fun! Likeable characters, a lot of fascinating Arabian tropes, some cool fights, and a quest that can go anywhere. Magi is a big hit in Japan, with an anime under its belt already, so I’m very pleased that Viz is taking a chance on it. If you like One Piece or Toriko, give Magi a try.

By Yumi Unita. Released in Japan as “Usagi Drop” by Shodensha, serialized in the magazine Feel Young. Released in North America by Yen Press.

You may finally discuss Bunny Drop in the comments. But be polite.

And so here we are. I’d mentioned when reviewing the previous volume of Bunny Drop that there was a certain discomfort with where it was going, even if there wasn’t really anything objectionable besides the basic concept. That feeling continues and is magnified in this volume, which could almost be described as “Yeah, it went there.” It does its best to try to show the thought patterns of the people this decision impacts – though Rin, as always, is harder to read and understand than the others. But in the end, was this trip really necessary? Let’s find out.

For most of the volume, the basic conflict is not so much “Rin is in love with Daikichi” – that was dealt with by Vol. 8, mostly. The conflict is that Rin seems to be perfectly content to never deal with this and live in her happy family cocoon forever, denying her own feelings so that things can be the same. And big props to Kouki for pointing out how selfish this is. Honestly, Kouki’s development has probably been written better than Rin’s as this series has gone along – he’s still very much in love with her, and knows that love can’t happen, but is determined to be sure that Rin is happy. What she’s doing now isn’t getting her that way. So, because he’s that sort of person, he simply tells Daikichi everything.

Yumi Unita’s art has always been best when showing feelings of awkward discomfort, and really excels here in the middle part of the book, as Daikichi has to deal with Rin’s feelings, and Rin has to deal with Daikichi knowing about it, and – inevitably – the destruction of their cozy parent-child relationship. I liked that she ended up going to her mother – whose character development has also been good but is mostly off-screen. The mother, of course, is there to provide the “”out” the story needs – Rin isn’t really Soichiro’s daughter, she’s an adopted daughter. Meaning she and Daikichi aren’t related by blood. Which is fine, except, y’know, he’s still raised her as a parent since she was six. Sigh.

Daikichi says to Rin he’s going to wait two years, possibly thinking that Rin might get over this. But of course she does not. Through most of the post-timeskip series we’ve had trouble reading Rin, but right at the end it’s Daikichi who becomes difficult, as his acceptance of Rin’s love and agreement to marry her seems to come less from romantic feelings and more “well, a father can’t say no to his daughter”. Which provides all sorts of deeply wrong reactions. Particularly when Rin brings up children right at the end.

There is a certain odd dilemma with this series. When it began, everyone was enchanted by its warm and loving take on parenting and adopted families, and recommending it to libraries and such. Then the spoiler hit, and suddenly the entire fandom took a darker turn. The anime solved this problem by simply ignoring the timeskip altogether. The difficulty is that if readers had known the manga was going to go down this direction, I don’t think any of them would have bought the series. Most people still reading have a sense of “Well, better see this through to the end, since I’ve invested so much time in it.” Which is not what one really wants from a heartwarming manga series. Bunny Drop could be very well-written, and thoughtful, and have nice art, and I’ve analyzed it more than most other series. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite as uncomfortable with an ending as I am with this one.

Of course, there’s Vol. 10 in April of next year. But I hear that’s mostly side-stories from when Rin was a kid. We shall see. (What, drop the series? Nah.)

By Rikdo Koshi. Released in Japan by Shonen Gahosha, serialized in the magazine Young King OURS. Released in North America by Viz.

In between all the body swaps, and personality wipes, and past lives, and pure hostile mind takeovers, it’s become increasingly apparent that one of the core themes of Excel Saga (the manga) has been identity. What is it that makes us who we are? Is it the bag of meat we currently inhabit? Is it that we think, therefore we are? What if we have amnesia? What if we’re put into a robot body? What if we are a reincarnation of someone else with similar memories? Lately it seems that our cast, especially Excel, need to have this question answered. And while I’m not sure this volume gives us anything definitive, it is one of the best at showing just how complicated this can actually be.

Let’s start with Excel, who is now back in her regular old human body after a couple volumes as a Ropponmatsu. Of course, ‘regular old human body’ has never quite applied to Excel, given she is capable of lifting several hundred pounds if she doesn’t think too hard about it, can open doors to ancient civilizations, and clearly has a past which Doctor Kabapu is trying hard to deny. (Kabapu and Shiouji’s greek chorus is one of the more frustrating things going on in this volume, mainly as Kabapu clearly has the answers but doesn’t want to say them out loud, and Shiouji doesn’t care enough.) Unfortunately, Excel, newly invigorated and with Hyatt and Elgala by her side, runs into Il Palazzo, and the shock causes her to have a mental breakdown for the last half of the volume.

Because of course that isn’t really Il Palazzo. Oh, it’s his body, all right. This is actually a major reason why Excel breaks down, as she can’t get over how Il Palazzo-ish he really is… until he speaks. And we finally get to see the truth about Shiouji’s father, Tenmangu. I’ve gotta say, we’ve been expecting him to be possessing Miwa’s body since about Vol. 13, which is… sort of true, only not. No, he’s now in control of Il Palazzo, and Miwa is a Ropponmatsu – one far more powerful than anything Shiouji could ever invent. Of course, this may not really matter all that much, as we’ve never really delved too deeply into who Il Palazzo really is. Excel figures out something is wrong purely due to the ideals she holds so dear – Il Palazzo talks about this “wonderful world”, and she knows her real love believes that this world is truly corrupt. (Given Excel Saga’s plotline, I really have to lean more towards Il Palazzo than Tenmangu here.)

Even if you can understand who someone really is, there’s always the chance of them disappointing you. Both Umi and Hyatt seem to hold Teriha/Excel on an impossible pedestal, one that she’s never really going to live up to. Elgala is more realistic about her expectations of Excel, but gets too lost in her own la-la land to be of any help. Misaki still has trouble rationalizing her love for Iwata, given what a giant doofus he is 90% of the time. Sumiyoshi always found Ropponmatsu 2 to be a loli pain, but is rather surprised by how angry her destruction makes him. And Watanabe disappoints EVERYONE, as his love for Hyatt has clearly not lessened (or ind3eed deepened) one iota.

The next volume of Excel Saga is the final one, and I’m fairly certain that we won’t be getting everything answered. But we should at least clear up a few things, and hope that at least some of these people can live happily ever after. Or at least get a good night’s sleep. God knows they need it.

(Also, Excel’s face when she realizes that’s not Il Palazzo is beautiful yet achingly sad at the same time. This series can still hit the heartstrings when it wants to.)

By Maki Enjoji. Released in Japan as “Hapi Mari” by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Petit Comic. Released in North America by Viz.

Viz has started to slowly dip its toe into the waters of josei, first a few years back with Butterflies, Flowers, and now with two new series, of which this is the first. They’re all being put under the Shojo Beat imprint, because a) it’s a brand people look for, which a Signature title isn’t necessarily; and b) honestly, most of these titles hit the same beats as their shoujo titles, it’s just that the protagonists are adults and there is sexual content. It wouldn’t be hard to see something like Happy Marriage?! reimagined to high school and Sho-Comi, with Hokuto as the hot new transfer student or something.

The basic premise isn’t too hard. Chiwa is an office lady whose father is a bit of a naive idiot, so their family is in heavy debt. She’s trying to deal with it by taking extra jobs, but that’s not going so well. Then the company chairman has the brilliant idea of marrying her to the company president, a smooth yet vaguely jerk-like guy naked Hokuto. Neither of them are really enthused about the idea, particularly Chiwa, who is a twitchy virgin who has no idea how to handle anything like this. Will they gradually grow to love each other as husband and wife and find true love and sexual satisfaction?

It’s hard not to compare this title with Butterflies, Flowers, Viz’s first foray into the world of Petit Comic. Both have the same types of hero and heroine, both involve company power issues (he has far more power than she does), and both heroines tend to freak out when bad or confusing things happen to them. Happy Marriage?!, though, is a far more natural and mellow title than Butterflies, Flowers ever was. There’s no real exaggeration for comedic effect here. No superdeformed heroines, no over-the-top sexist behavior as of yet, and zero Gundam references. Hokuto seems a bit standoffish, and like many shoujo/josei heroes likes to smirk smugly on occasion, but compared to other types I’ve seen he’s not too bad. Likewise we see Chiyo standing up for herself on occasion, though her lack of life experience and self-confidence is no doubt going to be one of the issues this manga deals with through its 10-volume run.

Of course, the problem with not having the appalling lows of Butterflies, Flowers is it doesn’t have the amazing highs either. The comedy and gratuitous appallingness of the latter title was what kept audiences reading, as they wanted to see what outrageousness would happen next. There’s not as much outrageousness in Happy Marriage?!, so what you’re left with is just a bit duller. It feels like one of many other shoujo titles, just grown up. Which is something you could say for a lot of josei, really. Chiwa in particular hasn’t really done much to separate herself from other blushing blonde heroines. Hokuto at least is more reserved than this type usually is, and I liked that we see he doesn’t really understand his new wife any more than she understands him, he’s just better at hiding it.

This is a good start to a romantic series, and I look forward to seeing if it avoids other ‘smutty shoujo’ traps once our heroes get hot and heavy (which they don’t here). I’ll check out another volume. But it’s not making my jaw drop the way its predecessor at Viz did.

By Shigeru Mizuki. Released in Japan as “Gegege no Kitaro” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Drawn & Quarterly.

This is another of those titles manga fans have been waiting for years to see, and now Drawn & Quarterly are finally releasing what I hope is the first of multiple volumes devoted to it. Shigeru Mizuki’s most famous and influential series, about the adventures of a young yokai and his various supernatural friends, who spends much of his time investigating creepy happenings and trying to stop them. Almost all yokai manga on the market owe a debt to Kitaro, even if, on the surface, this manga is not really all that much like Kamisama Kiss or Natsume’s Book of Friends.

It starts off fairly slowly, with a few short one-shots involving Kitaro being mysterious, and a large amount of human involvement. There are some very nice scares, though, such as the story about the drunken salarymen who insult yokai at a bar and then get taught a lesson on the train ride home. These stories have Kitaro mostly on his own, which is fine for a while, but he’s pretty much a stoic straight man, so the series needs some spicing up after it gets going. Enter Nezumi Otoko (Rat Man), a yokai who is always out for himself above any other. His appearance adds a lunatic joy to the proceedings, as you’re never quite sure if he’s been possessed by evil, is changing sides merely to save his own skin, or is genuinely being a complete ass. Usually it’s all three.

As the collection goes on, the stories get longer and more complex. One tale has Kitaro and several of the stronger yokai (including future series regulars Konnaki Jiji, Sunakabe Baba, and Ittamomen) headed to an island that has been taken over by Western monsters such as Dracula and Frankenstein. At first I was expecting this to be a fairly lighthearted romp, but things got surprisingly dark and serious for our heroes. Even more impressive is the largest story in the book, which shows Kitaro joining an expedition to track down an immortal yokai monster, but being hindered (and later completely betrayed) by an egotistical young scientist who wants the credit and glory of single-handedly discovering it. What eventually happens is a giant kaiju battle, a la Godzilla. This gives us some of the best art of the series, and also has Nezumi Otoko bitchslapping the villain over and over again, something I will never get tired of reading.

Contrary to today’s hipper, sexier Shonen Magazine, the stories that ran in the 1960s version are totally child-friendly, and I think that still applies today. Younger kids may get freaked out a bit by some of the scarier things, particularly Kitaro and his father, who is an eyeball that lives in Kitaro’s own empty socket, and pops out grotesquely from time to time. For the most part, however, these are great, fast-paced ghost stories with action and laughs that any child can enjoy.

And it goes without saying that adult manga fans should enjoy this as well. It’s fairly episodic – there really aren’t any ongoing plot threads beyond ‘Kitaro discovers new yokai threat’ – but that’s mostly irrelevant. You’re here to see a good story well told, some really creepy yokai, and the work of a master craftsman in what has proven to be his greatest work. Highly recommended.

By Mizuki Nomura. Released in Japan by Enterbrain. Released in North America by Yen Press.

It is not uncommon in the world of fiction – and indeed in the world of manga – for the main character to be the most difficult, the most problematic, and sometimes the least satisfying. This is particularly true when the goal of your book or series of books is to have that character achieve catharsis, to rise above mental and emotional blocks and become a better person who can move past the past that may be causing them suffering. There’s a fine line here, particularly in a series. Their faults and trauma drive the plot, but at the same time the goal is to heal them. This can lead to an unfortunate tendency to ‘forget’ past lessons learned in time for the new book to roll around, so the character always starts two steps backward from where he was before.

As you can guess, I’m talking about Konoha Inoue, the first-persona narrator and hero of these books. The last events in this series chronologically, Book Girl And The Wayfarer’s Lamentation, showed Konoha finally confronting directly the girl most associated with his past trauma – Asakura Miu – and dealing with exactly what led to that point, both his actions and those of Miu. At the end, both have moved to a point where they can start to repair their psyches. So you can imagine my frustration where, at several times during this new volumes, Konoha is still consumed by the same demons that haunted him before, particularly in regards to his writing.

It’s especially frustrating because we even see Miu, who is brought in in a short scene to attempt to smack some sense into Konoha, and we can see for ourselves that the same thing has not happened to her. Miu is changing, has grown and started to mature, even though we see that it’s hard for her, and she may still be regretting a few things. We thought this is what Konoha was doing as well. He was moving in the right direction, had started to opemn up to others, and had (we thought) made peace with Tohko, his mentor/friend, moving on to college. Of course, the main problem with this is that the series didn’t end with Book 5, and there’s one more backstory we haven’t really focused on, and that’s Tohko’s.

Konoha and Tohko have what amounts to a very codependent relationship in this book, far more than what we appeared to see in the prior books in the series. There had been small hints in the past, but nothing that quite led us to expect what was going on with Tohko and Ryuto here. It thus feels overwrought and emotionally draining, and worse, it feels like those emotions haven’t really been earned yet. This is in contrast with the scenes with Miu, and also Nanase, where you can buy into the tension and dissonance that flows between their characters and Konoha. Tohko seems to have made a leap here I wasn’t prepared for.

Speaking of Nanase, she really needs to move to another series ASAP. K-On!, or Sunshine Sketch, or something cute and fluffy that is absolutely not filled with broken people who think nothing of throwing each other to the wolves. While Ryuto’s frustration with Konoha is absolutely understandable – we feel the same way, honestly – his handling of Konoha is brutal and horrible, and made me lose all sympathy for him, mostly as he’s risking Konoha having a complete mental breakdown. Given the cliffhanger shows that he’s determined to ‘break’ Nanase, I can only look forward to that part of Vol. 8 with dread. I never had any illusions that Konoha and Nanase were going to remain a couple – his affection for her has never quite seemed like genuine romantic love – but this isn’t how I want to see them break up.

Lastly, there’s the question of what Book Girl as a series thinks of writing and authors in general. Ryuto’s mother points out that Konoha shouldn’t be an author, and Konoha through this book seems to regard writing as suffering. Except, of course, that he’s been writing short stories for Tohko the entire time. He just doesn’t think of that as coming from the same place. What he fears more than writing is notoriety – someone reading his work, holding it up to others, and judging it. Tohko notably never does that – his snacks are pretty much immediately eaten by her, and never see anyone else’s eyes. But given how screwed up Kohona is at this point, and the fact that Tohko’s mask may have been in place more than any of the other masked characters in this series, can we really resolve this in just one volume?

Well, no, that’s why there’s a Part 1 up there. This came out in Japan in 2 parts, and unlike the Haruhi 2-parter coming out in November, Yen has chosen to release it separately as two volumes. This means we have to wait till January to find out how this will all end. And despite all my complaints, I still want very much to see the resolution. After all, any series that can make me go on at this length about its faults is one that’s worthy enough to read. Even if Konoha does make me grind my teeth. A lot.

By Shigeru Suguira. Released in Japan initially by Shueisha; this updated edition was released by Shobunsha. Released in North America by PictureBox.

Wow. I had heard that this author was a bit surreal, so I went into this thinking I was prepared, but I was not remotely prepared. I’m not entirely sure that this manga can be read, per se. It’s an experience, almost like going to an interactive art show or something. Each page led to a new expression on my face: awe, bewilderment, sometimes staring blankly while saying “Really?” There is a story to tell, and it flows pretty well, but I’ll be honest, there’s nothing here regarding plot and characterization to talk about. Not that this is a bad thing. I found reading this to be very sensory, and absolutely would recommend it to other hardcore manga fans.

Technically, this is an adaptation of James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tale, and the basic framework does sort of follow the plot. This doesn’t take place in a realistic world, however. This is the world of Wild West movies, where the East Coast can have huge mesa and rocky cliffs. It’s also very much the world of 50s comic books and strips. Photorealistic serious-minded Indians stand together with some of the goofiest faces you’ve seen this side of Doraemon. And it’s in your face the whole time – there’s no way you can try to work around it. Because this is also very comedic, despite its presence. There’s lots of fourth-wall breaking, and silly gags, and dumb Indians doing dumb things. It’s fun, but loose – one feels that if you take one wrong step along the way, you’ll end up in a place no reader has gone before.

According to the very welcome essays at the end of this book by translator Ryan Holmberg, this is how Sugiura’s style worked in general, particularly in the 60s and 70s. This edition dates from 1973-74, and is an update of the original 1953 edition. Reading the essays made me realize what my mind had been struggling with the entire time I read the manga – it felt like a collage. Pastiche isn’t quite right, because it doesn’t explain the way that the work gives a sense that anything can be pasted in from anywhere as you go. And so the two military daughters who need to be rescued are straight out of a romance comic-book and the villain of the piece is drawn completely straight, yet one of the guards is Oliver Hardy, and Wimpy from Popeye is the chef. The band Negativland once called this kind of approach culture jamming, and that’s what we see here – American and Japanese influence all thrown into one glorious canvas.

This is not the sort of manga I would recommend to any casual manga reader, nor do I think it would be a good present for kids, even if it was meant for young children in Japan. The content pretty much deals with the old, slightly racist way that Hollywood and comic books dealt with Indians, though honestly it’s much better than other contemporary works could be. But for those who really love something different in their manga, or for scholars, this is a real treat. It’s just about the right length – I’m not sure I could have taken more than the 114 pages it turned out to be, mostly as reading it can be a bit exhausting. For those who like a challenge, or art lovers, or even folks who enjoy slapstick comedy, give Last of the Mohicans a try. It’s like a yaminabe – you never quite know what ingredient will come out next.