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Young Master’s Revenge, Vol. 2

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Young Master’s Revenge Volume 2 by Meca Tanaka

This manga continues to be perhaps the most adorable revenge story ever illustrated. Leo, bent on revenge and managing his crippling fear of turtles, continues to pursue his horrific yet benign agenda against fallen heiress Tenma with an unwavering devotion that could only be love. As the volume begins Tenma decides that she has to transfer to Suzaku High which is the public high school down the road from Genbu. Cue massive jokes about references to the Four Gods!

As Tenma transfers Leo decides to accompany her mostly to protect her, but also because he finally realizes that his high school is named after a turtle god. The new students then engage in introductions for their new classmates, where Leo’s practiced charm wins everyone over and Tenma’s awkwardness makes everyone assume that she’s a horrible rich snob. When Tenma sees that the public school students have their resources even more limited because the rich Genbu high kids are allowed to take over their practice fields whenever they want she decides that she has to stand up for her new classmantes.

The Suzaku kids now have to fight for the sanctity of their school property. Leo’s manipulation skills are deployed to hilarious effect. One of the reasons why this manga is so amusing is that the revenge plot is such a great contrast to the real feelings of the characters. Tanaka has a way of drawing such endearing facial expressions, it is easy to be captivated by Tenma’s direct yet innocent nature and Leo’s unwavering lack of insight into his own emotions. Things seem to be coming to a turn though, as Leo is forced to confront the thin line between love and hate towards the end of this volume. It is impossible to put this manga down without feeling warm and fuzzy.

Bookshelf Briefs 7/30/18

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Dead Dead Demon’s Dededede Destruction, Vol. 2 | By Inio Asano | Viz Media – If the sight of Oran’s drooling face on the cover of this volume doesn’t inform you that this is one of those weird manga titles, nothing will. That said, for a manga about aliens infiltrating the Earth, and the Earth’s rather violent response to this, there’s a lot that’s grounded in reality here. The gang’s friend Kiho is dating a guy, which puts her on the outs with the rest of her (single) friends, and also causes friction when her boyfriend turns out to be a bit fond of conspiracy theories. Possibly my favorite scene in the volume is when the girls all go to their friend Ai’s house and met her four identical siblings… and one goth guy who calls himself the Black Knight, which meets Oran’s immediate approval. A lot of fun. – Sean Gaffney

Laid-Back Camp, Vol. 3 | By Afro | Yen Press – We’re still working on the characterization of anyone not named Nadeshiko or Rin, but for the most part the third volume will please readers who enjoyed the first two, as it combines chatter about camping with the camping itself—though honestly, Rin’s driving to get to the camp ends up occupying most of the time. Sadly, a trip with Nadeshiko is turned into a solo trip because she gets a cold, but on the bright side we may finally be luring Rin’s eccentric friend Ena to go along on the next trip. The long-term plotline seems to be to get Rin to be interested in camping with other people… but it’s certainly a long term project, as we’re three volumes in and we haven’t seen a group effort yet. Next time? – Sean Gaffney

My Boy, Vol. 2 | By Hitomi Takano | Vertical Comics – As with the previous volume, I recommend skipping the afterword. If you do, then My Boy continues to be a touching story of a young woman who’s got a newfound family in a young neglected boy. The problem here is that Mashuu already HAS a father and brother, and her hanging around with him all the time is inevitably going to be seen as creepy at best. One scene, where Mashuu can’t contact his brother, has Satoko going into his home and the entire scene has you holding your breath waiting for something horrible to happen. It still, may, in fact, especially now that her coworker is noticing the attention she’s giving Mashuu. I don’t like him. The manga is very good, though, and so far is avoiding obvious pitfalls. – Sean Gaffney

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts, Vol. 2 | By Yu Tomofuji | Yen Press – We return to the adventures of the most earnest sacrificial princess ever. Last time I mentioned that I felt the author might have grown up reading Fruits Basket, and that feeling hasn’t gone away—Sariphi isn’t quite as shiny as Tohru, but she still tends to try to overdo it in order to avoid disappointing anyone. In this case, though, it almost leads to her death. Fortunately, she’s gaining more allies in this book, as we meet her friend Amit, an alligator woman with a big heart, and the phoenix she summons, which is both adorable and hilarious—he needs to be animated so that I can hear his accent. Shoujo fans will enjoy this cute fantasy romance. – Sean Gaffney

School of Horns, Vol. 1 | By Mito Aoi | Yen Press – We’ve seen an endless amount of magical academies in the last few years, but there’s always room for more. This one has students divided up based on the horns they have on their heads—each type determines the magic. Our hero is half-human, so his horns are smaller than the other students (does this remind you of anything?), but in addition his powers seem to mess with others, meaning he’s a strange fifth type of magic user. Yes, it’s the old “bullied kid ends up being the really special one” story, but the main reason to read this is the slowly developing relationship between Eru and Rihito, who are sort of Deku and Todoroki-esque. This didn’t reach out and grab me, but it’s certainly pleasant enough. – Sean Gaffney

Shojo FIGHT!, Vol. 4 | By Yoko Nihonbashi | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – The fallout from the Kokuyodani team’s participation in volleybetting is going to be long-lasting, it seems. Part of their punishment involves living at the school for a month and undergoing intense training (including fasting, which supposedly “cures any illness”) and practice games against teams that believe the worst rumors. After one of these, Neri has a major attack of the angst and runs off, but after a good talk (and more!) with Shigeru, she seems finally on the verge of overcoming her past trauma, and actually tells Inugami and Odagiri what happened with her old teammates and lets herself enjoy volleyball again. And now that she seems to be on the road to better mental health, there’s enough time to give several other characters a bit more fleshing out in this volume, which is very welcome. I really enjoy this series. – Michelle Smith

Takane & Hana, Vol. 4 | By Yuki Shiwasu | Viz Media – There’s a lot less snarking in this book, but maybe I’m getting used to the fact that this is never going to match the hilarity of its start. What it does do is develop both the plot and characters—Hana is not quite ready to admit she has romantic feelings for Takane, but she’s getting there. Meanwhile there’s a new secretary at Takane’s business whose job it is to try to break them up—unfortunately, he’s a nice guy at heart, and his heart isn’t really into this, especially when Hana does not back down immediately. And lest you forget that Hana is in high school (and believe me, that is the premise), there’s a culture festival! Maids! Butlers! Cross-dressing! And Takane, being a giant ass. Which is what I’m here for. – Sean Gaffney

Toriko, Vol. 43 | By Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro | Viz Media – Toriko has finished, and it goes out the same way it’s always been—the food love is so much more interesting than the fighting. The first half of the book wraps up the fighting, including even giving the hapless Zongeh a part to play, but honestly I was ready to skip to the back half, where Toriko and his friends indulge in his Full-Course Meal, all prepared by Komatsu and HIS friends. There is also Toriko and Rin’s wedding, but again, I wonder if that was suggested by editorial fiat to avoid having the series seem too gay—the manga is all about the relationship between Toriko and Komatsu, and everything else is secondary. In the final pages, they even go off on a sort of honeymoon together. In space. – Sean Gaffney

Wake Up, Sleeping Beauty, Vol. 5 | By Megumi Morino | Kodansha Comics – Having whisked Shizu away from the hospital, Tetsu heads for his grandfather’s place by the beach, whereupon many revelations ensue. There’s a lot here that I didn’t expect to learn until the next (and final) volume, including the truth of what happened to Tetsu’s mom and why he’s been so desperate to earn money. What’s even better is that not only do readers learn these things, but so do Tetsu’s father and sisters, and everyone resolves to work harder as a family so that no one member feels the need to sacrifice everything for the sake of the others. There is one thing they don’t know, though, and it was such a great surprise that it makes me want to reread earlier volumes for hints. I’ll miss this series once it’s gone, but I bet the conclusion will be great. – Michelle Smith

Yuuna and the Haunted Hot Springs, Vol. 3 | By Tadahiro Miura | Seven Seas – This continues to be a title that you should only read if you are a teenage boy in search of something to get you horny. That said, I’m not that market at all, and I’m still reading it. I think it’s simply that compared to other series in this genre, I find it more tolerable—especially its lead, who continues to not be the standard Keitaro clone who plagues this sort of title. In fact, most of the girls spend more time fondling each other than they do the lead—and no, that doesn’t mean there’s any hints of yuri. These girls all want Kogarashi. But as with my last review, I will admit that Yuuna is a good series for those who want harmless comedic fun and like huge breasts. – Sean Gaffney

Pick of the Week: Wandering Off the Map

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MICHELLE: There’s not much on the manga front this week that really calls to me, so instead I’ll devote my pick to a charming graphic novel that came out a couple weeks ago. The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins is adapted from a great podcast in which three brothers play Dungeons & Dragons with their dad. The graphic novel cuts out most of the out-of-character interaction and presents as more of a straightforward fantasy story, but with loads of jokes (and profanity). Also, it’s the first graphic novel to score the #1 position on the New York Times Paperback Trade Fiction list! Check it out, won’t you?

KATE: I’m with Michelle: this week’s manga list is just not ringing my bell. So I’ll use today’s column to shamelessly plug one of my favorite ongoing series, Hiromu Arakawa’s Silver Spoon. It’s funny, wise, and surprisingly serious at times, but so well done that you will laugh AND cry at least once per volume. The first three volumes are available right now, giving you a chance to catch up before volume four arrives in August. Not convinced? Here’s what I had to say about volume one.

SEAN: I will stick with the actual list, but I’ll go with prose this time around. I keep waiting for it to get so dark I lose interest, but through the last two volumes, The Saga of Tanya the Evil has proven to be an excellent, if very long, read. I look forward to the third novel.

ASH: While I certainly have plenty of reading to catch up on, it is an extremely rare week that there isn’t at least one release I’m looking forward to getting my hands on. This week that release is the most recent omnibus of I Am a Hero. Even having grown tired of the inundation of zombie media, I still find this series to be one heck of a ride.

ANNA: There isn’t much coming out this week that I’m interested in, which is good, as I’m going to use the time to get caught up on my reading. One recent release that is non-manga that I think is cool is Viz getting into translated amigurumi books! San-X Crochet Patterns is my pick.

Umineko: When They Cry, Vol. 18

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Story by Ryukishi07; Art by Eita Mizuno. Released in Japan in three separate volumes as “Umineko no Naku Koro ni: Requiem of the Golden Witch” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Shonen Gangan. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Stephen Paul.

Last time we finally got the answer to the riddle of the Epitaph, as well as the revelation of who Beatrice is, though that answer required jumping through a few hoops to avoid showing us a face. For the conclusion of this penultimate arc, however, the answers come fast and furious. In fact, one complaint of the audience that had read the original visual novels is that they’re a bit too much like looking at the answer sheet. When Clair and Will face off, we get her declarations, and we see his sword bluntly cutting them off. But the floating words literally stating what happened in the first four arcs was added to the manga especially. Apparently fans had started to get a bit over the top about how there was no real answer to the arcs, and this was Ryukishi07’s response (he worked closely with the mangaka for the last two arcs especially). And here we also find out the truth of what REALLY happened in 1986. Though, like Ange, I don’t think you’re going to like it.

One of the things that was made very clear was that Kinzo’s magic was money. Money is what has the power to make miracles. And so the solution to what really happens, once you realize that the parents actually put their heads together and all solved the epitaph together, is depressingly obvious. What’s more, it mirrors some of the battles in the prior arcs. Jessica’s fistfights against Kyrie and Ronove contrast with her pathetic demise here, having her face literally being beaten to a pulp. (There’s always a gore warning for Umineko, by the way, but this volume is particularly bad.) Natsuhi also doesn’t get a chance to fight back, and her death starts the chain of everyone else’s. As for the identity of the culprit, I’ll avoid mentioning it here, but I will say that we discover, as the reader was well aware, that Bernkastel’s goal is to see everyone suffer for her own entertainment, and given who she’s been “helping” for so long, you can probably hazard a guess. That said, I’m not sure EVERYTHING we see is exactly what happened. There’s a conversation between two characters about Ange that seems a bit too on the nose to not be “dialogue provided by Bernkastel”, to be honest.

Even Lion doesn’t manage to escape Bern’s mass slaughter, as Bern reveals that even in the ONE universe where Lion exists, their fate is also preordained. That said, three cheers for Will, who says what we all want to hear: mysteries that just end unhappily for everyone are not fun to read. Will is there to bring the reader hope, even if it means losing an arm and fighting along with Lion against Bern and her nightmarish army of cats. (Lambdadelta is there too, but honestly she’s more a passive audience member than anything else. She enjoys it, but it’s all Bernkastel’s show.) But still… we’ve got one big arc to go. We know what really happened in 1986. Is there any way to give Ange a happy ending in 1998? Bern says no, and she says it in red, so it’s going to be tough. (I recommend the digital version for that page, by the way, as the color red is actually used for the statement, and it gives it a lot of impact.)

Clearly the answer, however, is not to take the opposite tack either. We should not see an arc that shows us how everything was all happiness, sunshine and rainbows in 1986, not after everything we’ve seen involving the Ushiromiya family. But there’s no way anyone’s motivations would be that misguided. Right? Tune in next time for Twilight of the Golden Witch, aka “don’t mention this arc in the presence of an Umineko fan”. Same time, same publisher!

Manhwa 100

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As a reviewer, I’ve found Manga: The Complete Guide (Del Rey), Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga (Stonebridge Press), and Manga: 60 Years of Japanese Comics (Laurence King Publishing) indispensable references, whether I’m searching for information about a series’ publication history or looking for insight into a particular artist’s style. I hoped that Manhwa 100: The New Era for Korean Comics would provide a similar perspective on the Korean comics industry. Unfortunately, Manhwa 100 turned out to be an ambitious but poorly executed attempt to highlight the medium’s most popular, influential series.

In terms of organization and metholodgy, Manhwa 100 falls somewhere between Manga: The Complete Guide and Dreamland Japan, offering summaries of one hundred books, some of which have been translated into English. Each entry includes basic information about the series’ print run (e.g. number of volumes, magazine of serialization), its author, and its crossover into other media (e.g. videogames, television programs), as well as a plot summary and an assessment of the work’s artistic merit. Entries are grouped according to audience, with sections devoted to sunjeong (girls’) comics, boys’ comics, adult comics, and “webtoons,” comics that debuted online but were later anthologized in print.

We learn in the introduction that a committee of thirty industry professionals chose the books featured in Manhwa 100. The exact selection criteria are never satisfactorily explained, though it’s obvious the committee made a concerted effort to represent a broad spectrum of styles and subjects; no artist has more than one entry devoted to her work. Most books are of recent vintage, with only a smattering of titles released in the 1970s and 1980s.

And here I have a confession to make: I was sorely tempted to call my review “Manhwa 100: Cultural Learnings of Comics for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Korea.” Why? The text is awash in awkward phrases, grammatical errors, egregious typos, and ill-advised attempts to keep it real with slangy, conversational phrases that clash violently with the prevailing tone. The entry for Blue, a title by Lee Eun-hye, is typical of the book:

Comic book characters are used in many character merchandises now, but it was [sic] not very actively used in the 1990s. However, the comics of Lee Eun-hye were widely used in character merchandises, even in the 1990s. This is because the author has the knack of using colors as one of her main themes. As she said in her own words, “color in itself is a story.”

As she proclaims in Jump Tree A+, her previous work to Blue, the teenage years are the “Green Age.” Her new story, Blue, represents the young adult age. The color blue in the comic has two sides. It represents a bright fresh side of youth, and it also represents sadness and gloom. The twenty-somethings in the comic are both fresh and youthful, but at the same time lonely and nostalgic.

A rich man’s illigitemate [sic] son Seung-pyo, passionate dancer Hae-joon, his faithful follower Yeon-woo, smart but cold Hyun-bin, and strong charismatic rocker Ha-yun: Blue revolves around these five characters. The loneliness in Blue was sprouted from self-pity and narcissism. Like in many of her other comics, author Lee Eun-hye pushes her characters into their own narcissistic world disconnected from each other.

That is why Blue is beautiful. The earnest characters express their life honestly. And the poetic narration and symbolic monologues add to its beauty. In 1997, an OST disc, inspired by the comic, was…

Yes, the entry really does end with an incomplete sentence.

If I’m reading the text correctly, this confusing verbiage could be boiled down to three talking points: (1) Lee’s manhwa was among the first to inspire “character goods” (phone cards, figurines, stationery, keychains, etc.); (2) her books feature beautifully drawn, emotionally stunted characters; and (3) her books are popular enough to be adapted into TV shows, CD dramas, and the like. Though it’s obvious she views color as a metaphor for age and mood, it’s not clear how or if she uses color in her work–a crucial point, given the increasingly important role that color is beginning to play in manhwa. It’s also unclear what distinguishes Lee’s work from other sunjeong titles, as symbolism, emotionally-charged conversation, and interior monologues are staples of the medium, not personal idiosyncrasies.

If the book synopses are frustrating, the contextual essays are downright obtuse. With titles such as “Open a Manhwa Book, Become a Friend of Korea” and “Manhwa in America: The New World of Charms Yet to be Discovered,” their stilted language and boastful claims for manhwa’s international importance make them sound like Pravda articles. Anyone hoping for insight into the differences between manhwa and manga (or other sequential art traditions, for that matter) will be frustrated by the maddeningly vague, jingoistic text which acknowledges stylistic similarities between manhwa and manga while arguing for significant differences in subject and approach. As manhwaga Lee Hyun-se explains:

While the Japanese samurai pulls out his sword for the completion of his skill, the Korean warrior draws his sword in revenge of his family or to fight against his or her sworn enemy. The Japanese hero walks the glorified path of the hero, which is as clear as the blood he spills, but the Korean hero trudges, stumbling upon his own defects.

Lee attributes the difference in approach to Korea’s lengthy history of occupation, contrasting it with Japan’s long period of isolationism and political intrigue. “The endless internal strife of the Japanese builds up a sense of hubris and elitism,” he argues, “while being on the defense instills a sense of humility and compassion for others… The hero of Japanese manga is ‘I’ while the hero in Korean manhwa is ‘We.’” It’s an interesting but flawed thesis, akin to suggesting that Howard’s End and Finnegan’s Wake are utterly different because one was written by a British imperialist and the other by a downtrodden Irishman. Lee seems to forget that avenging one’s family (or village, or sweetheart, or mentor) is one of the most basic manga plotlines, transcending genre and time period. He also overlooks the important role of community in manga; for every Lone Wolf, there are just as many characters who discover their purpose when they join a particular group, whether it be the school council (a la Love Master A) or the Shinsengumi (a la Kaze Hikaru).

Given Manhwa 100‘s limitations, I’m reluctant to recommend it; anyone hoping for an indispensable reference or an introduction to Korean comics will find this book baffling. For those already enchanted with manhwa, however, I’d suggest reading Manhwa 100 in the same spirit that our grandparents and parents flipped through the Sears Roebuck catalog: as a book of possibilities, a wish list for readers who enjoyed Shaman Warrior, One Thousand and One Nights, Bride of the Water God, or Dokebi Bride. I’ve already spotted dozens of great candidates for licensing, from Be Good, a comedy about a gangster who goes back to high school at 40, to Buddy, a sports drama set inside the ultra-competitive world of women’s golf.

POSTSCRIPT, 2/3/09: I corresponded with the editorial staff at NETCOMICS, who explained that they had a contract with the Korea Culture and Content Agency (KOCCA) to distribute Manhwa 100 in North America. The book was written and produced by C&C Revolution, a private company. (No individuals are named as authors.) NETCOMICS is not responsible for the book’s editorial content, just for its distribution.

This review originally appeared at The Manga Curmudgeon on February 2, 2009.

Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei: The Power of Negative Thinking, Vol. 1

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Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei: The Power of Negative Thinking may not be as relentlessly intertextual as Ulysses, but this Japanese import is nearly as rich in puns, social commentary, pop-culture parody, and allusions to TV shows, novels, movies, and manga. I can’t imagine adapting such a culturally specific text for Western audiences, yet the folks at Del Rey have made a game effort to do just that. Given the scope and complexity of the task, I think translator Joyce Aurino has produced an eminently readable script that captures the darkness and absurdity of Koji Kumeta’s original. I just wish it were, y’know, funnier.

The premise seems ripe with comic potential. High school teacher and profound pessimist Nozomu Itoshiki lands the gig from hell: an all-female class of stalkers, hikokimori, obsessive text-messagers, bossy perfectionists, panty-flashers, and perky optimists. Try as he might to escape his obligations, his students foil his repeated suicide attempts, compounding his sense of despair and driving him to more extreme, ridiculous measures.

Through a series of interconnected vignettes, we begin to grasp the true extent of Itoshiki’s negativity as well as the sheer nuttiness of his students. In “Zetsubou-Sensei Returns,” for example, Itoshiki instructs his students to complete a “Post Graduation Career Hope Survey” by listing the three dreams they’re least likely to realize, e.g. playing baseball for Yomiuri Giants, recording a best-selling pop album. His sour-spirited effort quickly backfires, however, when the school’s guidance counselor reads the responses and praises Itoshiki for encouraging his students to dream big. In “Before Me, There’s No One; Behind Me, There’s You,” Matoi Tsunetsuki, a.k.a. “super-love-obsessed stalker girl,” develops an unhealthy attachment to Itoshiki. Matoi pursues her teacher with steely determination, adopting his trademark yukata, building a shrine to him, and following him everywhere. The chapter ends with a brilliant stroke, as one of Matoi’s former love interests begins tailing her to find out who’s replaced him, only to discover a chain of stalkers trailing in Matoi and Itoshiki’s wake.

Unfortunately, many of the stories require too much editorial intervention to elicit real laughs, as Kumeta’s panels abound in the kind of small but important details that resist easy translation: brand name parodies, puns on famous literary works, misspelled words, and so forth. The story titles, too, require explanation; “Behind Me, There’s No One,” for example, is a riff on a poem by Kotaro Takamura, while “Beyond the Tunnel Was Whiteness” appropriates a line from Yasanuri Kuwabata’s Snow Country. Absent this rich network of cultural references, Kometa’s comedy loses some of its fizz, playing more like a mild satire of shojo manga conventions than a scathing commentary on contemporary Japan.

If the text sometimes disappoints, the artwork does not. Kumeta uses a stark palette with large patches of pure black and plenty of white space. His highly stylized character designs have a pleasing, geometric quality about them, as do the patterns in their clothing. Though his faces are the essence of simplicity— just a few lines and two dark coals for eyes—Kumeta animates them with skill, registering the full gamut of emotions from anger to joy. His students are virtually interchangeable, save for their accessories and hairstyles: a black eye and a sling for the class masochist, blonde hair and strawberry-print underpants for the class exhibitionist. Again, Kumeta’s economy of form works beautifully, underscoring the extent to which Itoshiki views all of the girls in the same light: as nuisances.

I wish I liked Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei better, as I think Kumeta is a terrific artist with a fertile imagination. But it’s awfully hard to laugh when 70% of the jokes require footnotes. (If you disagree, try this exercise: watch an episode of Seinfeld, The Chapelle Show, or South Park with someone who’s new to the United States. Then try explaining why the jokes work. You’ll quickly realize the degree to which the creators rely on your knowledge of literature, politics, movies, and pop music for laughs.) I’m also a little uncomfortable with the way Kumeta depicts the female students, as he skates a thin line between poking fun at stock manga characters and portraying teenage girls as desperate, manipulative, boy-crazed hysterics. I wouldn’t go as far as to label the text misogynist—that term seems much too strong—but I would feel more at ease with the material if Kumeta’s cast was comprised of troublesome girls and boys—equal opportunity neurosis, if you will.

That said, I’m not ready to declare Zetsubou-Sensei a dud; I’m just not sure how invested I am in a series that requires its own set of cultural Cliff Notes to decode.

This review originally appeared at The Manga Curmudgeon on March 4, 2009.

The Horror! The Horror! Comic Books the Government Didn’t Want You to Read

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In the early 1950s, horror comics were big business. Out of the eighty million floppies sold each month, nearly one in three featured a vampire, a zombie, a cannibal, a werewolf, a parasitic alien, or a vengeful spirit. The comics were as sensational as their titles and were popular with kids—that is, until the Comics Code Authority effectively banned them in 1954 with its prohibition against “lurid, unsavory, gruesome illustrations.”

The Horror! The Horror! Comic Books the Government Didn’t Want You to Read focuses on horror’s brief renaissance in the 1950s. The first third of the book provides a historical overview of the genre, tracing horror comics’ roots back to the popular crime serials of the 1940s. The rest of the book explores the numerous subgenres and tropes found in series such as Tales from the Crypt, Tomb of Terror, The Thing, and Dark Mysteries. Each chapter is organized around a theme—vampirism, werewolves, zombies—and copiously illustrated with full-color reproductions of covers as well as complete stories ranging in length from one to twelve pages. Rounding out the volume is a 25-minute DVD containing “Confidential File,” a 1955 television documentary meant to show the harmful effects of comics on children.

Author Jim Trombetta is an excellent curator, selecting some of the era’s most memorable stories for inclusion in the book, from “Foul Play” (1953), a short piece in which a baseball team punishes its uppity pitcher, to “Some Die Twice” (1954), a longer story about a modern-day slave trader who falls prey to a tribe of cannibals. Through short but trenchant analyses of each story, Trombetta makes a persuasive case that horror comics gave readers a way to thumb their noses at polite society. Authors challenged the social emphasis on conformity, normalcy, and knowing one’s place by depicting all sorts of taboo behavior, from garden-variety criminal acts (e.g., extortion, robbery) to necrophilia. The stories were lurid, exciting, and decidedly un-PC, often reinforcing racist and sexist stereotypes, even as they lashed out at traditional authority figures.

Trombetta’s writing is lively and full of interesting observations, especially in his efforts to show the connection between America’s emerging military might and civilian reservations about the Korean War. His chapters on brainwashing and zombies, in particular, reveal the extent to which the plight of American POWs captured the popular imagination. Stories like “The Brain-Bats of Venus” (1952), for example, depicted pilots falling victim to a race of mind-controlling aliens—a thinly veiled allegory for the kind of reprogramming that Chinese captors allegedly conducted on American prisoners. Likewise, Trombetta’s chapter on vampirism does an excellent job of examining the way in which latent fears of miscegenation were embodied in the vampire’s unique mode of reproducing: swapping blood with the victim.

The only drawback to Trombetta’s approach is that his interpretations aren’t always as explicit or convincing as they could be. By lumping vampirism and cannibalism under the common heading of “The Hunger,” for example, Trombetta misses an opportunity to explore the very different ways in which these two categories reflected American anxieties about racial integration. His critique of horror comics’ not-so-latent sexism, too, would have benefited from more historical context, given the large numbers of women displaced from wartime jobs.

On the whole, however, The Horror! The Horror! is a beautifully designed, carefully researched book that chronicles one of the most important, vital genres in American comics while capturing its pulpy spirit.

This review originally appeared at The Graphic Novel Reporter on November 1, 2010.

Manga the Week of 8/1/18

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SEAN: Remember, it’s not really August 1st but July 32nd! Treat this as a 5th week, which means expect oddball stuff.

ASH: I rather appreciate oddball stuff.

ANNA: Maybe time to make a dent into my unread manga piles!

SEAN: Cross Infinite World has another debut. Despite not being your “standard” light novel, it’s a mouthful. Dawn of the Mapmaker: The Surveyor Girl and the Forbidden Knowledge.

Dark Horse gives us a 7th omnibus of I Am A Hero.

ASH: This is such an intense series!

SEAN: Kodansha Comics is pleased to announce that finally, after nineteen months, thanks to the sacrifice of twenty-thousand Kodansha editors who valiantly gave their lives so that you, the reader, might experience it, we finally have the 5th and final omnibus of Attack on Titan Junior High. (salutes, cries)

ASH: Indeed, a great achievement.

SEAN: In other Kodansha print titles, we have the Attack on Titan Season 2 Box set, the 8th Clockwork Planet manga, a 5th volume of Ninja Slayer KILLS!, and the 14th UQ Holder.

Perhaps sensing the market begging for mercy, Kodansha has only one digital title this week, another debut: The Prince’s Romance Gambit. Not to be confused with The Prince’s Black Poison, I’ve heard this title (which ran in Aria, then Nakayoshi – or possibly the other way around) is very silly.

MICHELLE: Hm. Better silly than cringey, I suppose.

ANNA: Glad there are no new digital titles I want to read since there are so many digital titles I haven’t read!

SEAN: Seven Seas’ new debut is also very silly: Precarious Woman Executive Miss Black General. This runs in Fujimi Shobo’s Dragon Age, always a strike against a new title for me, but I found its attempts to be ecchi fairly harmless. At heart this title would rather be ridiculous. Also, that’s totally not Batman. You must be imagining things.

They also have a 7th Dreamin’ Sun, the 3rd Made in Abyss, the 3rd Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka (which just got an anime announcement), the 10th Non Non Biyori, The Testament of Sister New Devil 9, and a print release of the 3rd Occultic;Nine novel which J-Novel Club already released.

MICHELLE: I need to catch up on Dreamin’ Sun. It’s been a little while.

ASH: I really like this J-Novel Club/Seven Seas partnership.

SEAN: Yen Digital has a couple ongoing series, with the 16th Saki and the 17th Sekirei.

They also have three light novels, one of which is a debut. The title – and I am not making this up – is WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?. A human is the sole survivor of an apocalyptic future. There’s various new races around, but they don’t need him. And when he joins the military he finds they’re training girl fairies as weapons. I’ll be honest, this sounds FAR too dark for me, but we shall see.

There’s also The Saga of Tanya the Evil 3 (also fairly dark) and So I’m a Spider, So What? 3 (not quite as dark).

Does this interest you? Or is there simply too much manga still?

ASH: Never too much! Mwahaha!

ANNA: There is, indeed, a lot.

Fruits Basket another, Vol. 1

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By Natsuki Takaya. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Alethea and Athena Nibley.

There are some stories that cry out for sequels, leaving loose ends and plotlines that would easily carry a new series forward with exciting, fresh ideas. Then there are series that ended nearly perfectly, with pretty much everything resolved, and the idea of a sequel fills you with foreboding and a sense that it’s going to ruin the franchise. Such a series, I’m afraid, it’s Fruits Basket another, the next-generation sequel to one of the most beloved manga of all time. Note I said next-gen: apart from one or two minor characters in small roles (Hanajima’s brother is a teacher, for example), don’t expect any of the original cast in this first volume. Instead we see the sons and daughters of Sohma, who are blissfully not cursed, happy and content, and living the good life at the same high school their parents went to. There’s even a Sohma fan club run by the daughter of the Yuki fan club president. Into this lovely arrangement comes Sawa, our heroine.

The late, lamented Sayonara, Zetsubou-sensei introduced a girl named Ai Kaga, who thinks everything that she does is a bother to someone else and makes her feel tremendous guilt. It’s meant to be a parody. That said, if you took Ai and made her 100% serious, you’d come close to Sawa in this first volume. Sawa lives alone with her mother, whose absence is hinted to veer towards actual neglect. She suffers from amazingly low self-esteem, not helped by various childhood incidents that have only reinforced it. Now she’s in high school, but she’s late her first day because her landlord yelled at her for something that’s her mother’s fault. If Tohru was a ray of sunshine and hope into everyone’s lives, then Sawa is a black cloud floating overhead. Fortunately, she soon runs into Mutsuki and Hajime Sohma, the sons of Yuki and Kyo respectively. Soon she’s blackmailed into being on the Student Council and hanging out with more and more Sohmas, incurring the wrath of the girls of the school even as she wonders “why her?”.

The biggest question I have with this series is “why was it written?”. No, seriously. What new story needed to be told here beyond “oh look, Sohma kids!”? If Fruits Basket sometimes felt a bit like “every new Sohma gets to reveal their backstory and angst before being healed by the power of Tohru”, this is meant to be the exact opposite – despite the occasional stab at Mutsuki and Hajime having a “rivalry”, the fact is that the next-gen Sohmas are happy and content. Which is good, y’know, because we don’t exactly want to Fruits Basket main characters to be horrible parents, but it’s also fairly boring. As for Sawa, you can tell that Takaya is trying not to simply write Tohru Mk. 2, but her self-hatred really is through the roof – she’s not plucky like Tohru (or, for that matter, Sakuya and Liselotte) and so she simply grates.

There is a hint in the cliffhanger ending that we may see a Sohma who is not happy and content (Shigure and Akito’s kid – gosh, what a surprise), but for the most part the first volume of Fruits Basket another commits the cardinal sin of being deadly boring. And while normally I wouldn’t be pissed off about that sort of thing, the fact that it’s a sequel to one of my favorite shoujo series AND it’s also put Liselotte & Witch’s Forest (which I’d rather be reading) on hiatus just makes me more annoyed. If you loved the original Fruits Basket, preserve your memories and give this half-baked sequel a miss.

Kenka Bancho Otome, Vol. 2

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Kenka Bancho Otome Volume 2 by Chie Shimada

Kenka Bancho Otome, with a storyline about a girl who is forced to dress up as a boy and attend a high school for juvenile delinquents, is an excessively silly manga, which one would expect from an otome game adaptation, but in just two volumes it manages to pull off being a fun summer read as long as the reader isn’t looking for deep thoughts.

In the concluding volume Hinako continues her misadventures at Shishiku Academy, where most of her new friends seem to be on the verge of falling in love with her in her top-secret disguise as her brother Hikaru. Yet another emotional minefield is introduced with the arrival of Houou Onigashima, an upperclassman with a tough-guy jacket that he constantly wears slung over his shoulders like a cape. Houou just happens to be Hikaru’s older brother and Hinako is overcome at the idea that she has yet another brother! But when she returns to tell Hikaru about her discovery he inexplicably becomes extremely upset. The rest of the volume consists of a summer vacation episode with plenty of shirtlessness, school sports day, where Hinako has to cross-dress as a cheerleader with provocative results and a bonus giant schoolyard fight where Hinako further strengthens her platonic friendships with Kira and Totomaru, much to their mystified chagrin. At two volumes long, this series wraps up more nicely than most two volume series, which sometimes suffer from the author being forced to resolve a bunch of plot points quickly in a final chapter. I would have been fine with 3 instead of 2 volumes, if there might have been a little more time to delve into the hints about Hinako’s unconventional family and have her embark on an actual romance. Overall, the art was attractive if a bit generic. I enjoyed the story enough that I would totally play the Otome game that the manga was based on if it came out on android!

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