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Umineko: When They Cry, Vol. 16

December 19, 2017 by Sean Gaffney

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.

It’s been nearly a year since we last checked in on Rokkenjima. We have two arcs left, and they’re both packed to the gills – each is nine volumes total. And they’re sometimes big volumes. That means this first omnibus of three by Yen is 826 pages long, but fortunately it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a lot. By now we’re familiar with everyone in the story, and since Requiem is, for the most part, devoted to explaining the mysteries from the previous six arcs, everything glides along very smoothly. Well, we’re familiar with almost everyone in the story. This volume is noticeably short on Battler, who only shows up at the very start. Instead we get Willard D. Wright, who is to S. S. Van Dine what Dlanor is to Ronald Knox. Battler was a teenager who liked mysteries, Willard is an actual detective. And he’s here to get answers, along with his Watson, the heir to the Ushiromiya family, Lion.

That’s Lion on the front cover there, and you might be forgiven for a certain lack of recognition. And also wonder, as Will does, what Lion’s gender is. Ryukishi07 has deliberately hidden this from us, and explicitly told the manga artist (best known for Spiral: Bonds of Reasoning) to do the same, so I will try not to use gender pronouns. That said, if you understand Kinzo’s monstrous sexism from previous arcs, you can easily hazard a guess as to what gender his beloved grandchild and heir is. Lion is a lot of fun (and yes, the name completes the horrible Eva – Ange – Lion pun), pinching Will’s ass whenever he acts callous, which is a lot of the time. Will is retired, and doesn’t want to be here, but Bernkastel is basically forcing him to solve everything for her master. So we see him ask Rosa about what happened that day in 1967, talk to Jessica about her own experiences with being rude to Beatrice (or more accurately, Maria), and find out how Kinzo really got all that gold and who Beatrice was originally. (Admittedly, Kinzo’s story seems very romantic and idealized – you’re left wondering if that’s really all that happened.)

The ugliest part of this volume is, hands down, the section where everyone talks about the fact that Kinzo raped his own daughter, and all the servants basically say “well, yeah, that happened, but he really loved her mother, see?”. It’s infuriating, and at least Genji had the good sense to hide the next generation down until he was sure it wouldn’t happen AGAIN. Speaking of which, as rapidly becomes clear, Lion’s existence here ties into the 5th arc, where Natsuhi shoved the baby she’d been given by Kinzo to raise as her own off a cliff. Lion is what happens when she DOESN’T do that, something that Bern says is an incredibly rare thing. It’s to Lion’s credit that the first thing that comes to mind is defending Natsuhi, who really is a loving mother here. Honestly, Lion holds up pretty well with everything that’s going on, especially when we find out that in all the worlds where Natsuhi shoved the baby off the cliff, we get Beatrice, not Lion.

Towards the end of this omnibus, Will reveals the culprit to Lion and Bernkastel – but not to us, as we’re still supposed to make guesses. That said, many of the hints are laid out in front of us this volume as well. The fact that Shannon and Kanon are the only ones besides Will to not know who Lion is. The fact that when Will asks Shannon to go get Kanon so he can talk to them together, Shannon has possibly the scariest mental breakdown in the entire series. And the fact that when we get the “culprit” POV at the end, we see her, in 1976, working with a Shannon who looks exactly the same age as she does in 1986. Speaking of the word culprit, if you weren’t already horrified by the Evangelion pun, the fact that the nickname for the culprit is “Yasu” will surely have you rolling your eyes and grinding your teeth – that is, if you know Japanese mystery games.

This is, incest apologia aside, one of my favorite arcs, and the manga artist does a great job bringing it to life. Next time around we’ll get more flashbacks, as “Yasu” grows up, falls in love, and becomes a witch. If you’ve been reading Umineko all along, this is an essential volume.

Filed Under: REVIEWS, umineko

Bookshelf Briefs 12/18/17

December 18, 2017 by Michelle Smith and Sean Gaffney Leave a Comment

Assassination Classroom, Vol. 19 | By Yusei Matsui | Viz Media – The first half of this book shows us that our heroes are still high school students, and thus powerless to a degree—they’re captured with astonishing ease. Of course, once we get them out of holding and back on the mountain (kudos to Irina, who shows off a few things I’m surprised Jump let her get away with—not least of which wanting to do Karasuma ten times a day) they’re in their element, and even the hardened trained assassins find that environment plays a key role. As for Koro-sensei, well, he’s trapped, and time is running out. The book makes it very clear that saving Koro-sensei is not going to fly with the general public. So what happens next? Can’t wait to find out. – Sean Gaffney

Captive Hearts of Oz, Vol. 3 | By Ryo Maruya and Mamenosuke Fujimaru | Seven Seas – As with its spiritual predecessor, Alice in the Country of Hearts, the goal of this series is to find out what the world is actually supposed to be. After reading this volume, it may be even less clear. I am grateful that, because this isn’t based on an otome game, there’s no real romance being played out here. (Romance could be some of the shadiest elements of the Alice series.) However, I’d like things to be just a little bit clearer, to be honest. I probably should have reread the first two books, as it’s been a while. That said, the general TONE of the book is fine, and it pushes all the right buttons that fans of this sort of series will want pushed. It’s just… HUH? – Sean Gaffney

Chihayafuru, Vol. 7 | By Yuki Suetsugu | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – Chihaya should be studying for exams, but she ditches a session with Desk-kun to see how Taichi’s doing in a tournament. It’s there she learns that Arata has resumed competing, and I so love Taichi’s reaction to this news. It’s obvious that he’s jealous, but seeing Chihaya so happy causes him to admit to himself that part of him is happy, too. Then, after some nice chapters in which the more lowly members of the Mizusawa karuta club offer sage advice to Taichi and Chihaya, we progress to the East Japan qualification tournament to decide challengers for the ranks of master and queen. Chihaya’s mastery of the game has improved, and it’s great to see her take on formidable opponents without making mistakes. It’s probably too early in the series for her to actually beat Shinobu, but I am in no rush. Every volume is a joy. – Michelle Smith

Everyone’s Getting Married, Vol. 7 | By Izumi Miyazono | Viz Media – Oh, long-distance relationships. Everyone goes into them filled with good intentions, but it never quite works out the way you want. Asuka and Ryo are certainly finding that out. She’s being strong and totally OK with him doing this, which makes sense for him, but… you can tell that she hates it, and that’s not being communicated. As such, even though everything is being done properly, it’s hard to not get that sense of impending doom, especially as everyone else is telling Asuka this as well. We also meet Ryu’s brother, who is the classic “I look totally scary but am really just overprotective” sort. We still have a couple of volumes to go… how is this going to sort itself out? – Sean Gaffney

Kuroko’s Basketball, Vols. 17-18 | By Tadatoshi Fujimaki | VIZ Media – Seirin has made it to the quarterfinals of the Winter Cup where they must face Yosen, a team that not only includes Kagami’s childhood friend/rival but also Murasakibara, an (enormous) member of the Miracle Generation. Kuroko debuts his new shooting skills (essentially, he adapts his passing technique instead of using proper form) and the various members of Seirin get their moment in the sun, especially Hyuga and Kiyoshi. And, of course, there’s a lesson, as Murasakibara’s approach has been that big people are always going to win at basketball, so there’s no use in anyone else trying. I must note that this series has just about reached The Prince of Tennis levels of implausibility involving some characters’ abilities, including a peanut gallery that calls out the names of moves, but I am still enjoying it immensely. – Michelle Smith

Of the Red, the Light, and the Ayakashi, Vol. 9 | By nanao and HaccaWorks* | Yen Press – So I will admit that throughout this series I’ve found the plot difficult to follow at the best of times, but for all that I appreciated this volume trying to lay things out for us. We get even more clarification about what ‘taking a meal’ entails, and also why Akane did what she did. Yue’s decision feels very much in character, and I suppose it could have been worse—the characters who were “eaten” don’t come back, but most of the Ayakashi are at least seen as around. As for Tougo, he is very unhappy with part of Yue’s decision, and takes it upon himself to try to fix it—also in character for him. Main series is over, time for extras! Will there be an epilogue? – Sean Gaffney

Princess Jellyfish, Vol. 7 | By Akiko Higashimura | Kodansha Comics – At one point while reading this, I had to step back a moment to just appreciate what an unexpected turn this story has taken. It’s not about saving the Amamizukan from destruction anymore. It’s about Tsukimi getting on a plane for the first time and flying to Singapore, Kuranosuke’s determination to get her back, Shu’s apparent willingness to let her go, and Hanamori’s promises to make enough money gambling to buy the Amars’ residence back from Kai, the fashion mogul who has whisked Tsukimi away on a new life. But, y’know, I’m not sure Tsukimi really wants to go back, and that’s what makes this series great. I think we could get a happy ending that preserves the status quo for most of the Amars while allowing Tsukimi to become something she never imagined. I am so eager to experience the final volumes! – Michelle Smith

Welcome to the Ballroom, Vol. 8 | By Tomo Takeuchi | Kodansha Comics – Well, I was wrong in my review of the last volume, where I said we would have an amazing breakthrough this time. Instead, we get more pain, angst, and torment from our lead couple, and everyone around Tatara yelling at him to figure things out or else stop this. They’re not going to tell him what the issue is, mostly as it can’t be conveyed well with words. And you get the sense by the end of the volume that he might be getting it. But I said that last time, and I’m not really sure that it’s worth crawling through broken glass every volume just to get to a bit of catharsis. Is this trip really necessary? – Sean Gaffney

Filed Under: Bookshelf Briefs

Pick of the Week: A Bounty of Manga

December 18, 2017 by Sean Gaffney, Katherine Dacey, Michelle Smith, Ash Brown, Anna N and MJ Leave a Comment

SEAN: Honestly, there’s just too much stuff. I feel like I’m drowning in choices. And so (because I suspect the rest of the group will go with CLAMP) I will go with an old favorite and pick the new Umineko When They Cry omnibus volume, Requiem of the Golden Witch. Fans love this arc, and the manga adaptation of it is supposed to be quite good. And at 826 pages, it can also be used as a blunt object.

KATE: I’m torn between the latest volumes of Golden Kamuy and Happiness, two of my favorite ongoing series. Since choosing between them seems like deciding whether you like your daughter better than your son, I’m going with Junji Ito’s Shiver, which has been getting great advanced buzz.

MICHELLE: I am actually not going to go with CLAMP, despite my intense love of Kero-chan, because this is the last time I can choose Say I Love You. I’ve enjoyed this series a lot, and have been anticipating this final volume for a long time. It’s definitely a must-buy for me this week.

ASH: So much manga! And so many new volumes in series that I’m following! Although I will certainly be giving the new Cardcaptor Sakura a try, I will continue to thwart Sean’s prediction by choosing another debut. Kate already has Shiver covered, which I’ll definitely be reading, but I’m also incredibly curious about Graineliers, so that’s my pick!

ANNA: I feel like one of us should not thwart Sean’s prediction! Thus, Cardcaptor Sakura is my pick! Let’s hope it is more like early CLAMP and less like late CLAMP!

MJ: Wow, I’m really torn here. I have a deep, deep love for Cardcapter Sakura so it’s really hard for me to let that go. But I don’t necessarily trust CLAMP to recreate that magic for me at this point, and I’m really a sucker for a new GFantasy title, so I’m with Ash on Graineliers! Thanks, Anna, for making Sean’s prediction at least a little true!

SEAN: I’m not sure I trust all this love for Grenaliers. I think the love for it may have been… planted. (puts on sunglasses, Roger Daltrey scream)

MJ: Wow.

Filed Under: PICK OF THE WEEK

My Week in Manga: December 11-December 17, 2017

December 18, 2017 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

Last week I posted the Bookshelf Overload for November, which also happens to be the final Bookshelf Overload feature here at Experiments in Manga since I will be entering semi-retirement as a manga blogger very soon. Otherwise, it was a fairly quiet week, as has been the case for quite some time now. I’ve been very busy at work trying to get a bunch of stuff done before the end of the year, so I haven’t even been paying much attention to what’s going on online. However, last week I discovered (or perhaps re-discovered?) that The Beast Player by Nahoko Uehashi will be published in English next year! Uehashi is the creator of Moribito, which I adore along with its anime adaptation. (Moribito would  have made a great topic for an Adaptation Adventures feature.) Sadly, only the first two novels in the Moribito series were ever released in English–Guardian of the Spirit and Guardian of the Darkness–but I’m very happy to see more of her work in translation.

Quick Takes

In This Corner of the WorldIn This Corner of the World by Fumiyo Kouno. Both of the manga by Kouno that have been released in print in English–Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms and now In This Corner of the World–use the atomic bombing of Hiroshima during World War II as a major touchstone. However, while the event is certainly important to In This Corner of the World, it’s not the central focus of the series. In This Corner of the World largely follows the everyday life of Suzu, a young woman from a small fishing village in Hiroshima who has recently married and moved in with her husband’s family in the nearby city of Kure. The three-volume series, collected into a single omnibus for its English-language release, isn’t a manga with a driving plot. Instead, the chapters read like a compilation of closely-related remembrances. The theme of memories is one that is echoed throughout the entire manga. Although the subject matter of In This Corner of the World is certainly serious, with an authentic portrayal of some of the tragedies and heartbreak associated with war, Kouno has also created a quiet and lovely work with significant charm.

The Promised Neverland, Volume 1The Promised Neverland, Volume 1 written by Kaiu Shirai and illustrated by Posuka Demizu. The beginning of The Promised Neverland is very bright, but it doesn’t take much time at all for the series to execute an exceptionally dark turn. Emma and the other orphans at Grace Field House lead happy lives. They are surprisingly well-cared-for, provided with delicious food and an idyllic environment in which to grow into young, healthy children. But when Emma discovers the horrifying truth behind the orphanage’s purpose, she becomes determined to find a way for all of the children to escape. However, running away will be an extremely difficult task to accomplish, especially when plans must be devised and executed in complete secrecy. The Promised Neverland features an intense battle of wits as Emma and the others are suddenly faced with securing their own survival in an unforgiving world that is unlike anything that they were previously led to believe. The story is deeply unsettling, and Demizu’s artwork is more than up to the task of creating a chilling atmosphere. I am incredibly interested to see how The Promised Neverland continues to develop from here.

Filed Under: FEATURES, My Week in Manga Tagged With: Fumiyo Kouno, In This Corner of the World, Kaiu Shirai, manga, Posuka Demizu, Promised Neverland

Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics

December 18, 2017 by Katherine Dacey

The strengths and weaknesses of Paul Gravett’s latest book are neatly encapsulated in its title. Though the book purports to be a “definitive guide to Asian comics,” Gravett’s true aim is to trace the influence of the Japanese manga industry on comic book traditions across the Asian continent, from China and South Korea to Bhutan, India, Indonesia, Malayasia, Mongolia, and Vietnam.

Gravett’s thesis rests on two core assumptions. First, he argues that manga is Asia’s dominant comic book tradition, as evidenced by its “cultural influence and its extraordinary sales figures” (24); even Japan’s dojinshi (amateur) scene, he observes, “has more participants and publications than entire national markets” (31). Second, Gravett argues that colonialism played an essential role in extending manga’s reach beyond Japanese borders. The first wave of colonization was physical: as Japan invaded and occupied neighboring countries, manga proved “an ideal medium for spreading propaganda about the benefits of Japan’s leadership” and painting the Japanese as liberators, freeing Asia from Europe’s tyrannical grasp. The second wave of colonization was virtual: in the years following World War II, a demilitarized Japan reinvented itself as an industrial powerhouse, exporting consumer goods and pop-cultural products — manga, anime, and video games — in what Gravett characterizes as a “soft cultural invasion” of Asia and the West (14-15).

Gravett eschews a strictly chronological or geographical approach to the material, instead grouping his examples under six suggestive headings: “Mapping Mangasia,” “Fable and Folklore,” “Recreating and Revising the Past,” “Stories and Storytellers,” “Censorship and Sensibility,” and “Multimedia Mangasia.” This thematic approach gives him the freedom to explore parallels between manga and other Asian comic traditions in a creative — if sometimes non-linear — fashion. In his introductory chapter, for example, he traces the influence of Western comic strips across East Asia, showing how syndicated cartoons such as George McManus’ Bringing Up Father (1913-2000) and Oscar Jacobsson’s Adamsson (1920-1953) helped popularize the comic strip format with artists in Japan, Korea, China, and the Philippines, inspiring them to develop their own characters who were wrestling with “the allure of affluence, the desire for upward social mobility, and the nostalgia… for simpler past pleasures,” just as McManus’ Jiggs and Maggie did (28).

Two later chapters — “Recreating and Revising the Past” and “Censorship and Sensibility” — offer Gravett an opportunity to examine the complex dynamic between nationalism, censorship, and comics. Using the Phillippines as an example, Gravett explores the changing way in which Filipino artists depicted Japanese colonialism. His analysis focuses on three series: The Kalibapi Family, a wartime comic strip created at the behest of the Japanese Propaganda Corps; Kalawang sa Bakal (Corrosion of Steel), one of the first postwar comics to grapple with the horrors of Japan’s invasion of the Philippines; and Suicide Susy, a long-running series that pitted a spunky Filipina saboteur against Japanese soldiers. Over the course of forty years, Gravett observes, Japanese characters evolved from benign overlords to symbols of foreign oppression, reminders of Filipino collaboration, and — in the Marcos era — bumbling villains whose foolish antics distracted from the Marcos’ ruthless treatment of their own people.

“Censorship and Sensibility” also delves into gender politics. As one might expect, Gravett addresses genres such as yaoi, recognizing them as both pornography and resistance. “Manga about male-male romance,” he argues, “offer women an expressive playground in which to question and customize the alternatives to the oppressive heteronormativity of the powerful male and the weak female” (217). Gravett examines the legal complexities of obscenity laws as well, using Rokudenashiko’s protracted battle with the Japanese government to expose the inherent misogyny in many such regulations. He notes that she was convicted of distributing digital pictures of her vagina, but not for hanging manko (pussy) art in a gallery that only admitted women. “In the Japanese court’s eyes,” Gravett drily notes, “only men can be aroused by a vagina” (218-19).

For sheer visual beauty, Mangasia‘s stand-out chapter of  is “Fables and Folklore,” which focuses on comic-book adaptations of such important national texts as the Romance of the Three Kingdoms (China) and the Ramayana (India). The imagery runs the gamut from the merely functional to the photorealistic, with some genuinely striking selections. Zhang Guangyu’s wordless treatment of Journey to the West (1945), for example, is a unique synthesis of Chinese, Persian and Mexican influences, yielding a series of images that are at once playful and somber, rendered in a muted palette similar to Diego Rivera’s most famous murals, while Anant Pai and Ram Waeerkar’s Hanuman (1971) strikes an elegant balance between classical Hindu depictions of the popular deity and contemporary portrayals of superheroes and martial artists.

As one might expect from such a wide-ranging book, Mangasia‘s chief fault is its ambition: Gravett discusses examples from nineteen countries over a 100-year period, a tall order for a single volume. Important texts and artists get a few sentences each, making it difficult to fully appreciate their impact on the comics medium in their own countries or elsewhere. Likewise, historical contexts are rendered in broad strokes, through timelines and generalizations. In “Stories and Storytellers,” for example, Gravett asserts that “In the aftermath of World War II, the next generation in Japan strived to make their lives better,” a sentence that only hints at the incredible devastation caused by American bombing, or the economic hardships faced by ordinary Japanese citizens in the 1950s (164).

The title itself points to another drawback of Gravett’s approach: some of the examples in Mangasia bear only a tenuous visual connection to manga. In the absence of a clear, specific discussion of how manga influenced comics outside the immediate sphere of Japanese colonization, the reader is left to wonder whether a comic book retelling of the Mahabharata owes a debt to Shotaro Ishimonori, or if the story borrows more heavily from Indian sources. Some attempt to demonstrate the size of the international manga market, identify the countries where manga is most popular with readers, discuss the global piracy of manga, or examine manga fandoms across the Asian continent would have provided useful context for understanding how manga has insinuated itself into such a diverse array of comic traditions.

Whatever the limitations of a pan-Asian survey, Gravett recognizes the enormous cultural, religious, and historical differences that separate Muslim Indonesia from Hindu India, Buddhist Tibet, and the Catholic Philippines. If these differences are sometimes glossed over in service to his thesis, Gravett nonetheless does an admirable job of balancing discussion of Asian comics as a singular phenomenon and Asian comics as a set of discrete but overlapping traditions. The book’s design complements Gravett’s curatorial approach with evocative juxtapositions that reveal how certain themes and storytelling techniques manifest themselves across cultural lines.

The real stars of the show, however, are the 1,000 images that grace Mangasia‘s pages, allowing readers to see the transformation of a rough pencil sketch into a finished page, savor the richly saturated color palette and dynamic flow of a martial-arts adventure, and note the growing influence of digital technology on comic art. Whether you’re a manga reader or a comics scholar, the best way to tackle Mangasia is to follow Park Chan-wook’s advice, which appears at the very beginning of the text. “There’s the joy of simply taking in the art,” he observes (13), an apt assessment of this fascinating, flawed book’s appeal. Recommended.

Thames & Hudson provided a review copy.

Gravett, Paul. Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics, foreword by Park Chan-wook, Thames & Hudson, 2017.

Filed Under: Books, Manga Critic, REVIEWS Tagged With: Mangasia, Paul Gravett, Thames & Hudson

Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers, Vol. 3

December 18, 2017 by Sean Gaffney

By Ishio Yamagata and Miyagi. Released in Japan by Shueisha. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Jennifer Ward.

I have to say that I was groaning when the beginning of this third volume dealt once again with “which one of us is the traitor”. Fortunately, like Book 2, the question quickly gets set aside as we deal with an ever-growing threat. We also deal with the return of Nashetania, who’s still trying to pursue her goal even if she has to kill a bunch of people. Her loopy amorality was a highlight of the first book, so I was looking forward to this. Sadly, we don’t get nearly as much Nashetania in the book as I’d like. Chamo is also sidelined, and Mora reduced to support. The first half mostly focuses on Adlet, Fremy and Rolonia getting into various fights and trying to figure out how to stop Nashetania – or at least find her. The other half of the book focuses on Goldof, as you might have guessed from the cover, and we get his backstory and see why he is so devoted to his princess.

The main problem with this is that Goldof is fairly stoic, with his quirk being a berserker rage and urge to destroy that only turns off around Nashetania. His past is tragic, but his churlish acceptance of it (and violence against women and children) make it harder to sympathize. Nashetania is the most interesting part of the flashback, and we also learn a bit about how she got to be the way she is (pretty much brainwashed since birth into being a cultist, which… well, fits her pretty well). In the present, Goldof’s narration shows him trying to figure out what the fiends are doing, who’s lying, and how he can be both a Brave and save Nashetania. I found it rather frustrating that Goldof kept thinking of himself as not as smart as Adlet, particularly as Adlet has never been all that smart in this series. He’s not all that smart here either, basically just running around till he arrives at the climax.

The best part of Rokka continues to be the mysteries of each book, which are pretty hard to figure out – the revelation about how one trick is done is sort of impressive and also rather disgusting. Even if the solutions aren’t as satisfying as the author thinks, it did keep me constantly trying to figure things out, the goal of any mystery. Sadly, the main issue with Rokka continues to be that I just don’t find the characters all that compelling. I enjoyed Mora when she was the focus in Book 2, but without her backstory she’s basically dull. Adlet is nowhere near as main character-ish as he should be, and as I said before, Goldof is supposed to be dumb muscle, but can come across easily as unlikable dumb muscle, especially when give the standard “save the world or save the woman you love” choice.

We’re now halfway through the series, and I’m not ready to give up on it just yet, but I really would like the real traitor to be found so that the book can move forward, and I’ll be honest: this series cries out for a manga spinoff that’s a high school AU. Mildly recommended, with reservations.

Filed Under: REVIEWS, rokka: braves of the six flowers

Children of the Whales, Vol. 1

December 17, 2017 by Sean Gaffney

By Abi Umeda. Released in Japan as “Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau” by Akita Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Mystery Bonita. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions.

In general, I try to review something fairly soon after I read it, if only to ensure the volume sticks in my head. But sometimes the queue gets really long and things slide to the back. This can be unfortunate. When I read Children of the Whales back in November, I thought it was pretty creepy but intriguing, if a bit too depressing for my taste, and firmly in the genre of “we discover that our world is not what it seems and must fight for survival”. All of which is true. Then I read The Promised Neverland, one of Viz’s new Jump titles, which is not the same premise, but has enough similarities that I couldn’t help but compare the two. And, two be honest, Children of the Whales is not as good. The desire to immediately see more and figure out how the cast will succeed that I got with The Promised Neverland is, with Children of the Whales, replaced with “I wonder if the author is finished killing off interesting characters yet?”.

Our hero is Chakuro, who lives on a “mud whale” (hence the title), an island that seemingly moves through the desert in some post-apocalyptic land. Chakuro is an archivist, meaning he records births, deaths, etc. He’s also a bit of a weirdo. The mud whale has its own culture, with a mayor and everything, and its own taboos – such as grieving for those who have died, something that comes naturally to Chakuro, and thus gets him into trouble. He’s also got a cute childhood friend who clearly likes him. Then one day they run across another mud whale, and while exploring it find a seemingly emotionless girl, Lykos, who seems to be the last survivor. Unfortunately, though she doesn’t bring it herself, once she returns with them to their sand whale, terrible things begin to happen, as we find the world is not as abandoned as they had thought.

I think my main issue with Children of the Whales so far is that it seems to bleak. One of the characters killed off near the end was, in my mind, going to be used to set up a couple of different plots involving Chakuro and Lykos that would carry over into future volumes, but no, they’re brutally killed off to show us that Nothing Is The Same Anymore. And where The Promised Neverland shows us heroes who plan to fight back using pluck and grit, the cliffhanger to this book shows more of having to fight due to simple “otherwise I will be dead” despair. I just can’t really get involved with anyone here. It’s a shame, as the art is great, and the best reason to read this – the cover alone is fantastic. It conveys both the wonder of this world we’re discovering as well as its vicious, bloody destruction.

I know I shouldn’t be comparing two titles that are for different audiences in different magazines. But I find it very telling that after reading Children of the Whales, it drifted to the bottom of my review stack, whereas after reading The Promised Neverland I had to review it the very next day. Still, fans, of creepy fantasy/mystery series will likely enjoy this more than I did.

Filed Under: children of the whales, REVIEWS

Bookshelf Overload: November 2017

December 16, 2017 by Ash Brown

Since in a few weeks I will be retiring Experiments in Manga, this will be the final Bookshelf Overload posted here. However, I am thinking of ways that I might be able to feature some of the interesting media that I find by leveraging my Twitter account more effectively. As for the things that found their way into my home in November, I once again picked up more anime than I generally do. (Granted, two of those, Skip Beat! and Mind Game were the results of Kickstarters that I supported way back when.) November saw the release of several debuts that I was particularly excited about, including  ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Department, Volume 1 by Natsume Ono, Arakawa Under the Bridge, Omnibus 1 by Hikaru Nakamura, To Your Eternity, Volume 1 by Yoshitoki Oima (okay, technically it was released on the last day of October), as well as the Parasyte tribute anthology Neo-Parasyte M. I also recently discovered that a small publisher based out of Yokohama, Black Hook Press, is releasing gekiga manga in translation, such as Takashi Fukutani’s Dokudami Tenement. One more acquisition from November that I’d like to highlight is Denise Schroeder’s The Good Prince, Volume 1 which collects the first three chapters of that  webcomic. My introduction to Schroeder’s work was through the utterly charming comic Before You Go, so I’m happy to get my hands on more of her work in print.

Manga!
ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Department, Volume 1 by Natsume Ono
Arakawa Under the Bridge, Omnibus 1 by Hikaru Nakamura
Complex Age, Volumes 3-4 by Yui Sakuma
Delicious in Dungeon, Volume 3 by Ryoko Kui
Descending Stories: Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju, Volume 3 by Haruko Kumota
Devilman Grimoire, Volume 1 written by Go Nagai, illustrated by Rui Takato
Dokudami Tenement, Volume 1 by Takashi Fukutani
Erased, Omnibus 3 by Kei Sanbe
Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Volume 19 written by Yuto Tsukuda, illustrated by Shun Saeki
The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Volume 3 by Nagabe
In This Corner of the World by Fumiyo Kouno
Kakegurui: Compulsive Gambler, Volume 1 written by Homura Kawamoto, illustrated by Tōru Naomura
Land of the Lustrous, Volumes 2-3 by Haruko Ichikawa
Murciélago, Volume 4 by Yoshimurakana
Neo-Parasyte M by Various
Ōoku: The Inner Chambers, Volume 13 by Fumi Yoshinaga
A Polar Bear in Love, Volume 1 by Koromo
Requiem of the Rose King, Volume 7 by Aya Kanno
Shirley, Volume 1 by Kaoru Mori
Skip Beat!, Omnibus 2-12 by Yoshiki Nakamura
Sweetness and Lightning, Volume 8 by Gido Amagakure
To Your Eternity, Volume 1 by Yoshitoki Oima

Comics!
After Laughter by Jonathan Djob Nkondo
As the Crow Flies by Melanie Gillman
Barbara by Nicole Miles
A Body Beneath by Michael DeForge
Elysium by Caroline Dougherty and Femi Sobowale
Everyone’s an Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too by Jomny Sun
The Good Prince, Volume 1 by Denise Schroeder
Goro, Issue 2 by Sarah Horrocks
A Long Distance by Jean Wei
Love Your Rogue by Billie Snippet
Men + Monsters, Volume 1 by Aero Zero
Musings of a Muslim Hipster by Areeba Siddique
The Pit of Tar by Jeremy Sorese
Sukibito Diary by Chu Nap
Super Tokyoland by Benjamin Reiss
What Is Left by Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

Artbooks!
Sari Sari by Corinne Caro and Issel De Leon

Novels!
Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 5: Mobilization by Yoshiki Tanaka

Anthologies!
The Ise Stories: Ise Monogatari translated by Joshua S. Mostow and Royall Tyler
Panic and Deaf by Xiaosheng Liang

Anime!
Genocidal Organ directed by Shukō Murase
In This Corner of the World directed by Sunao Katabuchi
Kaiba directed by Masaaki Yuasa
Mind Game directed by Masaaki Yuasa
Skip Beat! directed by Kiyoko Sayama
Tokyo Godfathers directed by Satoshi Kon
Your Name directed by Makoto Shinkai

Film!
Funeral Parade of Roses directed by Toshio Matsumoto

Filed Under: Bookshelf Overload, UNSHELVED

Walking My Second Path in Life, Vol. 1

December 16, 2017 by Sean Gaffney

By Otaku de Neet and Kurodeko. Released in Japan as “Watashi wa Futatsume no Jinsei wo Aruku!” by Earth Star Entertainment. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Shirley Yeung.

It can be somewhat difficult to recommend light novel series at times, particularly the ones that are licensed over here, which tend to be marketed to the anime/manga fan, and generally speaking the male anime/manga fan. Many is the time I’ve read a series with many points to recommend it, only to have the storyline have a hero who gains about eight other women in love with him, or where the story is fine but the illustrations do nothing but show off the half-naked female form. Even The Faraway Paladin, which is about the closest comparison I can make to the title I’m reviewing, has elements of the classic “reincarnated in another world” story to it, though that lessens as the series goes along. But Walking My Second Path in Life is the first light novel I’ve read, I believe, that I can honestly say: this does not feel like a light novel. It feels like a romance book (with little to no romance) written for the average female North American reader.

Our heroine is the twin sister of the new Queen of a country. In fact, Fie is also, technically, married to the King as well – the twin sisters were a package deal. The problem is that Fie is the Unfavorite, and also has a reputation for being horrible. As such, the King gives her a pavilion of the palace to live in, with servants who one by one quit till she’s left alone to, presumably, starve to death. (The King’s callous motivations are rather ambiguous throughout.) Choosing not to do this, she instead comes across a flyer trying to get squires for the company of knights. She thus decides to cut off her hair, dress as a boy named Heath, and use the rudimentary sword training she got as a princess when someone bothered to give her the time of day to become a knight. The rest of the book is her life as a squire after achieving this, which (despite her best efforts) keeps occasionally intersecting with her old life – not least of which being the identity of her company commander.

The unfortunately named Otaku de Neet (it’s apparently a tortuous kanji pen name, but it leaves the fan who knows those two terms feeling very wary) has done an excellent job with Fie, who is your typical bright, enthusiastic young lad sort… except she (the book uses female pronouns throughout, and also calls her “Fie” in narration- Heath is a secret identity, after all) has a crafty, snarky, mean side to her as well. The mean side to her actually makes up some of the best scenes in the book, such as when she (in a flashback as Princess Fie) beats up rapist pedophiles with impunity, or when she gets around the fact that one of the squires has found out her secret by blackmailing him and treating him as a dog (trust me, it’s far more lighthearted and hilarious than it sounds). She’s a nice person at heart, though, be it Fie or Heath, and the rest of the main cast are also people who, while some are more fleshed out than other, I genuinely enjoy reading about. (I am morbidly curious about the other twin, who Fie never interacts with in this book.)

I won’t spoil some of the other great scenes – suffice to say the entire chapter with Cain is a treasure from beginning to end. I will note there is an attempted rape of an underage servant here, but Fie nips that in the bud before anything can happen. The illustrations are cute and fit the materials quite well. Even the squad member who dresses up as a woman in order to spy on the enemy is treated with (relative) respect and not made into the “comedy gay man”. Plus, since it’s only two volumes so far in Japan, you’re not laying out a lot of cash. I can’t even call it a fantasy – there doesn’t appear to be any magic in this world, it’s just a straight up medieval kingdom sort of world. If you like books with (pardon the expression) strong female leads, I highly recommend this series, possibly the biggest pleasant surprise I’ve seen from J-Novel Club to date.

Filed Under: REVIEWS, walking my second path in life

The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi-chan, Vol. 11

December 15, 2017 by Sean Gaffney

By Nagaru Tanigawa and Puyo. Released in Japan as “Suzumiya Haruhi-chan no Yuutsu” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialized in the magazine Shonen Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Paul Starr.

And now, the end is near. And so we face the final curtain. Since the Haruhi Suzumiya novels began in Japan in 2003, we’ve seen two manga, two anime series, a movie, two manga spinoffs, and two anime of said manga spinoffs. In 2006, Haruhi was the hottest franchise around. But in 2017, quietly, the last Haruhi spinoff has come to an end, and as far as I can tell there’s nothing out there to replace it. The novels are effectively finished, as the author apparently has massive writer’s block. The main manga ended, and Nagato Yuki-chan’s manga ended. And now we have the final volume of Haruhi-chan, though the decision to end it here does appear to be fairly last-minute – if it weren’t for the word ‘Final’ on the cover and the author moving on to his next project, you’d never know it was over. And yet, it is over. There is no new Haruhi content coming from Japan.

As an ending, of course, it doesn’t work, because as I said above it has that “suddenly cancelled” feel to it. But as a volume, it’s pretty much giving Haruhi-chan readers exactly what they got the previous ten volumes. We get comedic takes on the main series, with Haruhi’s Giants set to destroy the world being created for the pettiest of reasons. There are comedic takes on Haruhi-chan’s plot (such as it is), with Mikuru desperate to have Haruhi hypnotized into thinking she’s a cat again so that she can be cuddled. There is the occasional story with Achakura, though you get the sense that once Ryoko became the heart and soul of the Nagato Yuki-chan franchise Puyo lost interest in her mini-me form. Yasumi is also still around, showing if nothing else that we haven’t moved past the final volume of the novels. (Sasaki and company are absent – the fact that any future anime is allergic to Sasaki almost became a running gag in the Nagato Yuki-chan anime.)

Puyo’s stuff seems to work best when he leans on the fourth wall to a degree. The opening chapter, after an amusing dream sequence, is a very matter-of-fact Haruhi getting up and getting dressed for school, with the punchline being that once she puts on the headband she turns into her goofy Haruhi-chan self. At one point, Haruhi somehow arranges it so that she has a chyron below her saying she has “a shocking statement”, causing everyone to wonder what the heck it is. An entire chapter is drawn where only Haruhi is the focus – something she immediately notices and tries to fix, as she’s in a swimsuit and notices that the gaze is fairly male. (No surprise, most of the readers of this series were male as well). The second to last chapter is my favorite – Haruhi is late, so Mikuru and Yuki are waiting alone, and Mikuru is trying desperately to have a non-awkward conversation with Yuki. We even get flashbacks to the novels, where adult Mikuru said Yuki was difficult for her to deal with. Her flailing effort to be interested in Yuki’s game is a failure on her end, but the punchline here is really sweet and heartwarming.

Gag comics are not for everyone, and honestly at 11 volumes this one probably went on longer than it should have. But I usually found a great deal to enjoy as I read it – Puyo knows the series inside and out, and allows the characters to be exaggerated while never feeling out of character, even if they’re the butt of the joke. If you enjoyed the Haruhi franchise and want to delve into it one more time, the book makes a pretty decent wake. Oh yes, and Kyon is a deer, because why not go out with one last impenetrable Japanese pun?

Filed Under: melancholy of haruhi suzumiya, REVIEWS

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