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MMF: Yoshinaga top five

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I suppose that, since I asked others to pick their favorite Fumi Yoshinaga title, I should be willing to make the same impossible choice. It’s a thankless process, to be honest, since almost all of her works that have been published in English (which is almost all of them) assert their worth so forcefully. But, since I feel forced to do so, here are my five favorite works by Yoshinaga, in order:

  1. Antique Bakery, Digital Manga Publishing, four volumes, originally published in Shinkoshan’s Wings: As with many who left comments, this was my introduction to Yoshinaga, and it’s hard to get over your first time. A handsome straight guy opens a bakery and hires an irresistible gay guy to be his pastry chef. Additional employees of varying individual adorability hare subsequently hired, and Yoshinaga gives a glimpse into their complicated lives and those of their customers, friends, and families.
  2. Flower of Life, Digital Manga Publishing, four volumes, originally published in Shinkoshan’s Wings and later republished by Hakusensha: Yoshinaga dissects the milestones and tropes of school comedy with such precision and warmth that this series could easily have taken first place, though Antique Bakery gains an additional, slight edge by being about grown-ups. We follow a group of classmates and their teacher as they get to know outgoing (and blunt) Harutaro, a new student who missed a year due to leukemia treatment.
  3. Ichigenme: The First Class Is Civil Law, 801 Media, two volumes, originally published by Biblos: As I wrote in greater detail earlier this week, Ichigenme is at the very top of my list of favorite yaoi, tied with Saika Kunieda’s Future Lovers (Deux Press). What Yoshinaga has here is a fully fleshed-out tale of evolving love between grown-ups, funny, smart, and sexy as you could hope.
  4. All My Darling Daughters, Viz Signature, one volume, originally published in Hakusensha’s Melody: This is quite possibly my favorite fictional examination of a mother-daughter relationship, an all-too-often neglected dynamic. This collection of interconnected short stories isn’t limited to that topic, and Yoshinaga does a marvelous job throughout, but the best moments involve a grown woman whose relationship with her mother changes when the mother begins a new relationship with a much-younger man.
  5. Ôoku: The Inner Chambers, Viz Signature, currently serialized in Hakusensha’s Melody: It’s probably strange, if not blasphemous, to put Yoshinaga’s most critically acclaimed series last on this list, but it’s hard not to favor completed works over one that’s still ongoing, good as that series may be. And, don’t get me wrong, Ôoku is very, very good. This history-with-a-spoke-in-the-wheels saga looks at a feudal Japan where the male population was decimated by disease, leaving the women to assume power, with all of the intrigue, drama, and conflicted emotions that prospect suggests.

There. I’ve committed my list to blog. I actually feel liberated. And it should probably be noted that all of these titles are among my favorite manga published in English, period.

Higurashi: When They Cry, Vols. 13-14

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Story by Ryukishi07; Art by Yutori Houjyou. Released in Japan as “Higurashi no Naku Koro ni: Meakashi-hen” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Gangan Wing. Released in North America by Yen Press.

Sorry for the numbering confusion. Initial solicits from Yen noted that the omnibus ‘Demon Exposing Arc’ was Volume 13, but I went with that. But they’ve apparently now decided that it’s a special one-off, and 13 and 14 are the rest of the Eye-Opening Arc proper. So we’ll go with that. In the meantime, let’s take a look at Shion! When we last left her, she’d locked Mion in the Sonozaki family torture chamber and was laughing maniacally. Where can we go from here?

Oh, there’s always somewhere further down you can go! Shoin still has to figure out what happened to her beloved Satoshi, after all. So she disguises herself as Mion and starts an odd double life, using Keiichi and the others to try to further her own agenda. Or at least what she thinks her agenda is. In doing so, she also runs afoul of the Village’s Council of Elders. Honestly, some of their reaction to hearing there were intruders in the shrine might be Shion’s paranoia, but I doubt it. They’re simply reactionary people in power, and not pleasant at all.

Of course, this isn’t comparing them to Shion, who outstrips everyone else in this arc for pure evil, even if it’s in the name of a misplaced love and revenge. She kidnaps the head of the village and sets him up in a slow hanging torture device that, well, slowly hangs him. (Shots of his feet danging in the backgrounds in Volume 4 are chilling, especially as they’re never the actual focus of the scene.) And unfortunately, Shion is still no closer to finding anything out, as the head of the village doesn’t know anything, and her grandmother is dead.

Shion has been attempting to be crafty, but it’s not particularly working well except against overly trusting people like Keiichi. So it’s no surprise that when Rika comes over to ‘borrow some soy sauce’, it seems to be a ruse in order to inject Shion with something. We think. This is the trouble with trying to trust a viewpoint in Higurashi. It makes for a good cliffhanger, though.

Then we get to Volume 4. It’s the final volume of the arc, and by far the bloodiest to date. Shion manages to defeat Rika from injecting her, and decides to take her off to be tortured like she did with the village elder and her sister. Rika, oddly, does not really want to be tortured, and decides that since it’s clear Shion is too far gone, she will commit suicide instead. By stabbing herself in the neck with a knife. Repeatedly. It’s a horrific scene to see, and even Shion seems briefly horrified by it.

But at least she avoided what’s coming next, after Shion invites Satoko over for some tea and torture. Given that Satoko is Satoshi’s brother, this is the grimmest scene in the whole arc (and that’s saying a lot). Shion is filled with misplaced blame and anger, and as it turns out so is Satoko, who has been blaming herself for her brother’s disappearance, and is convinced that if she’s a good girl and doesn’t cry that she can see him again. This is the only scene in the manga where Shion threatens to slowly torture someone to death and actually does it, as she stabs Satoko (who she has already crucified – no vague symbolism here) repeatedly in the arms until she dies from blood loss.

This is followed by an epiphany that would be rather touching if it wasn’t far too late – Shion, going over all her memories, finally recalls Satoshi asking her, right before he disappeared, to take care of Satoko for him. And I’m pretty sure he did not mean ‘take care’ as in torture. Shion’s anguish as she realizes that not only did she not do this but in fact has failed at everything she wanted to do to get closer to him is equal parts heartbreaking and amusing (there’s a wonderful shot of her thinking about Satoko and Satoshi, beloved brother and sister, keeping their promise to each other, and them slowly swiveling her head over to the crucifix where Satoko still hangs.), but in the end it’s a mere illusion, as Shion decides she is ‘possessed by the demon’ and goes off to kill Keiichi (who she still seems to blame for not being Satoshi.)

What follows is the end of the Cotton Drifting Arc, only from Shion’s perspective, now that we know it was actually her and not Mion. My favorite part of these two arcs occurs here, as Shion has basically made an unspoken bet with her sister to see if Keiichi is able to discover that she’s really Shion. He doesn’t, so she gleefully starts to torture him – only to have him beg the ‘demon’ inside her to release Mion, and Shion realizes that he not only can’t believe that his good friend Mion would be capable of such things, but ALSO can’t suspect Shion. Keiichi is simply too nice.

So she knocks him out with her taser, and goes to have a final heart to heart with Mion. We do actually get a few answers here, this being the first of the answer arcs – but not too many. It’s made clear that the Sonozakis don’t really have anything to do with Satoshi’s disappearance – they’re just really good at bluffing and looking evil. The whole twin switching thing is also given its last twist, as it turns out that when they were kids they switched so that Shion could attend a meeting and Mion could go to the amusement park. The only problem was this was when the elders of the family tattooed ‘Mion’ with the mark that branded her as the next head of the family. So Shion was actually born Mion, and fell into disfavor. Yet another reason she’s so screwed up. Unfortunately, this does not help the Mion we know, who Shion allows to fall into the pit in their basement and break her neck.

And so Shion, tormented by now by absolutely anything and everything she’s ever done in her life, goes to the hospital to stab Keiichi, convinced by now that she has to kill everyone to gain forgiveness. And then she falls off a roof trying to escape. Bad end. REALLY bad end. There’s a brief shot of a dying Shion regretting all the decisions she made, and imagining what would have happened if she’d ,listened to Satoshi and become a big sister figure to Satoko. Sadly, it’s just a fantasy, and the final shot is of her corpse staring up at the reader.

This was gripping stuff, but not exactly what I would call feel-good material. What’s more, we have yet another arc with a singularly unsympathetic protagonist, as despite all attempts to make Shion likeable, you really can’t get past the paranoia and madness. Luckily, this arc is over. In October we begin the ‘Atonement’ arc, which stars Rena (remember Rena? The supposed star of the series?), and is the ‘answer arc’ to the very first Higurashi manga. Hopefully it will be as well-told as this arc was… and perhaps a little lighter in tone? I know I can’t get a good end yet, but…

Upcoming 8/17/2011

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If your comic shop is of the Diamond dependent stripe, you may be disappointed by this week’s ComicList, as there’s next to no manga in evidence. Never fear, though! There is one exciting arrival to please the discerning comics reader.

That would be the fourth volume of Lewis Trondheim’s Little Nothings: My Shadow in the Distance (NBM). Trondheim’s self-deprecating, autobiographical comics are always funny and observant in just the right ways. I reviewed the third volume, Uneasy Happiness, for the inaugural Not By Manga Alone column.

Of course, for those served by more diversely sourced comic shops, you can take a look at the Manga Bookshelf Pick of the Week roundup, and you can peruse this week’s Bookshelf Briefs for our takes on a variety of recent releases.

By the way, a new alphabet begins this week, but I think I’ll keep the theme a surprise. I’m sneaky that way!

 

Guest Feature: Why You Should Read Evyione, Part II

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Why You Should Read (and Want More) Evyione: Ocean Fantasy
Part II

Evyione: Ocean Fantasy, loosely based on “The Little Mermaid,” is a wonderful manhwa which is on indefinite hiatus in English. Here I present the case for continuing Evyione in English.

In Part I I described the merits of the artwork in Evyione: Ocean Fantasy. The artwork was the main draw for me – in the beginning. However, if I only cared about the art, I would advocate bypassing the Udon Entertainment edition and going straight for the original, Korean-language edition. It is because of the story’s impact on me that I am encouraging people to try the Udon Entertainment English-language edition.

What about the story engrosses me so much? The answer, while simple to name, is complex to describe: the connections between the characters.

Character Crystals

The characters are like crystals. At first, the characters seem to be simple yet warmly rendered examples of standard archetypes, just like the characters in well-told fairy tales. Being a comic based on Hans Christian Andersen, this feels appropriate, and it feels even more appropriate because it fits the artistic aesthetic I described in part I. Crystals, too, can appear beautiful yet simple upon a glance. And like crystals, at first the characters seem like they will never change or show depth – just as fairy-tale characters generally do not change or show depth.

Of course, crystals do change and can have hidden complexity, and the same is true of the characters in Evyione: Ocean Fantasy. Kim Young-Hee reveals the humanity in the characters just as a jeweler might reveal the gem in a crystal – by rubbing the characters against each other to gradually uncover an underlying layer, or by striking them against each other to expose a new facet. Different characters pull out different qualities from each other. Watching the characters rub, strike, and connect with each other, slowly exposing themselves, is exactly why I love the story.

This dynamic is not apparent in the first volume. It takes time to reveal the characters and to weave the complex web of their relationships. In volume one, Yaxin pretty much only interacts with the sea witch, Evyione and Fidelis are mostly interacting with each other, and Owain only interacts with Evyione, and not for very long. Fidelis – the less I say about him, the better, because it is hard to talk about him without blowing a significant bombshell. Owain might be my favorite character (aside from my other favorite characters – it is tough to pick just one), and based on the artist commentary section, he seems to be the most popular character among Korean readers too. And of course, Yaxin and Evyione’s relationship is the beating heart of the story. The connections – and potential connections between the characters – drive much of the suspense, and as it takes a few volumes to build things up, it means that it is much harder to be left hanging at the end of volume 6 than at the end of volume 1.

An Example

To really show how engrossing the connections between the characters are requires an in-depth example.

I do not want to use Yaxin and Evyione’s relationship as that example; it is difficult to have a meaningful discussion of their relationship without spoilers. Though if you want a taste of that, the summary would be: the connections between Evyione and Owain, Yaxin and Owain, Evyione and Fidelis, and Evyione and the king’s brother are all worthy reading in their own right – and they all help Evyione and Yaxin’s relationship attain that special something which makes me tear through the volumes, difficult Chinese phrases be damned, to finally get to the scenes between the two.

Anyway instead, I will describe the relationships around the Queen, Evyione’s stepmother.

The Queen

The queen is a very refreshing take on the fairy-tale stepmother. For starters, she is not evil. This grants the queen the freedom to act like a human being instead of a stock villain.

The problem stems from her marriage. The king and the queen do like each other, though ‘love’ is probably too strong a word. However, the queen thinks that when she is no longer young and beautiful, the king will discard her. She thinks that the only way to protect herself is to bear the king’s children … yet after three years of marriage, she still doesn’t have any children. And this kicks off a chain of events.

As a source of comfort and support – or, perhaps not – comes Marie-Anne, the queen’s old lover from France. While the queen is married to the king, Marie-Anne is clearly her real partner. The queen, insecure as she is about her marriage, avoids openly disagreeing with the king, and in the one scene where she does, in fact, say to the king that she disagrees with him, she immediately tries to diffuse the situation. However, when she disagrees with Marie-Anne, she never hesitates to call her out on it. In other words, unlike from her husband, the queen insists on respect from Marie-Anne. If they could have, the queen and Marie-Anne would have probably married each other long ago. Which makes me wonder – is the ultimate cause of the queen’s problems the fact that her society doesn’t accept queer relationships?

However, Marie-Anne’s presence is not exactly beneficial. Her attempts to intervene in the queen’s problems only make them worse. And Marie-Anne has ulterior motives for coming to Emvonia. The queen is partially aware of this. While the queen does not seem to like it, she is not trying to stop Marie-Anne – so far. But when the queen figures out the full extent of Marie-Anne’s activities … to be honest, I do not know what is going to happen, but it will not be good. And there is the question of how Marie-Anne will respond. Marie-Anne really does seem to love the queen. If she had to choose between the queen and her goals — and she probably will have to choose eventually — I am not sure which one she would pick.

While the queen’s sub-plot at first is confined to a few characters, one by one, others get dragged into the mess. Each new character adds to the fray of course adds a whole new set of complications. And each additional character draws out a different part of the queen, making her an ever richer character.

What really breaks my heart is the toll these events are having on the queen’s self-esteem. She really is a good person. However, desperation causes her to do some less than ethical things. That makes her think that she is a bad person. And she is blaming herself even for things which are not her fault. While this tragedy started because the she thinks that her husband does not see any worth in her beyond her beauty, it seems that she now thinks that her husband is right. And that is definitely not true.

Spectacular Moments

When I think of Evyione: Ocean Fantasy, my mind often drifts to specific spectacular moments, the culmination of everything good in this comic. For all that I tried to break the discussion of the art and the story into different sections, the two cannot be completely separated. The artwork provides the potential to be striking; the plot provides the potential to be surprising; the character development provides the potential to be moving; when even two of these things come together, the result is spectacular.

An example I should have used in part 1 – but which also fits here, because it is important for both the artwork and the story – is a scene in which one character wakes up in chains, and then sees another character, wearing a mask, approaching. It is a bizarre scene. Both of the characters have ingested drugs, and it comes through in the drawings. This a wonderful example of how the story supplies a great subject for the artwork. Indeed, this scene is mostly told through what is seen, not what is said. This scene is unexpected, yet so visually imaginative, and yet has seriously scary implications for the characters involved. The first time I read this scene, I was so stunned that I temporarily stopped thinking. Heck, re-reading this scene for the purpose of writing this paragraph made my neck tense up. This particular moment marks the shift of the story into a much darker direction, and was one of the turning points which made me fall for Evyione: Ocean Fantasy that much harder.

Read Evyione: Ocean Fantasy! And Talk about It!

If you think you might like Evyione: Ocean Fantasy, please, please, PLEASE buy volume 1 of the Udon Entertainment edition. It is still available for sale. And if you do, in fact, like it, please tell people about it. Blog about it, if you have a blog. Volume 2 is never going to come out in English without sales and buzz. And volume 2 really should come out in English.

Finale

This review covers a lot. To wrap it all up, I wish to share one of my favorite moments. Enjoy.

*

Yaxin is bathing by the rocky sea shore. Hearing footsteps, he hides.

It is Evyione.

She is wearing a black robe à la polonaise. The area from the top of her stomacher to the bottom of her chin is completely covered in black lace. The engageants (sleeve extensions) are made from a matching set of black lace, yet her sleeves short enough to leave her fair skin exposed between the engageants and her black gloves. And her black hat comes with an elegant set of ribbons. While it is a very fine dress, it is actually plainer than most of the dresses she wears. It is a dress for mourning.

Evyione starts crying.

In many other comics aimed at a female audience, Evyione would have struck a dramatic pose as she cried, artistic flourishes would spill out onto the page, and/or the panels themselves would contort to share in Evyione’s grief. However the artwork of Evyione: Ocean Fantasy, simple and natural as ever, just lets Evyione stand and sob her heart out.

As Yaxin watches, he narrates [quote translated from Chinese] “I do not know why she came to these deserted rocks by the sea, but she looks like she is extremely sad … The sound of the never-ending waves crashing on the rocks seem to be trying to cover the sound of her weeping … The sound of her sobs is gradually ebbing … The sound of her breath is also gradually becoming slower … Now her footsteps sound like they belong to a completely different person … She has straight away turned her body, climbing the stairs, having completely recovered her normal calm self, seeming as if she had never wept.”

I love this moment because this is one of the very few times that Evyione freely expresses her feelings. And after her release, the reader watches her put back on the social mask that almost always wears to cover up her unhappiness.

Evyione is weeping because she believes that Yaxin is gone forever.

Sara K. has spent almost all of her life in San Francisco, California. She got tired of living in San Francisco, so one day she boarded a plane bound for Haneda Airport, and has never been back to San Francisco ever since. She currently lives in an Asian city you have never heard of.

Natsume’s Book of Friends, Vol. 8

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By Yuki Midorikawa. Released in Japan as “Natsume Yuujinchou” by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine LaLa. Released in North America by Viz.

This is one of those shoujo manga that keeps getting better as it goes along. Midorikawa is finding what her strengths and weaknesses are, and thus as Natsume grows so does the series. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t wait for each new release.

The early volumes had Natsume almost entirely interacting with yokai and those humans who interact with yokai every day. Which is nice and all, but he is still trying to be a normal kid as well. That’s why I was pleased to see this volume focused so much on his relationships with both his classmates and his adapted family. Tanuma and Taki do interact with yokai, but at a level far lower than that of Natsume. As a result, their worry for him is far more oriented in the human world. Natsume’s this awkward teen who tries to take on too much, and they aren’t sure that he’d let them know if something was too difficult a burden.

The culture festival was excellent, and shows that Natsume can also open up to classmates who have no supernatural powers whatsoever. It’s also a good example of what I was just talking about, which is Natsume having to realize that he can’t do everything all by himself, and that it’s OK to rely on others sometimes. “Life is full of new challenges,” he notes at the end of the chapter. Indeed, the next two chapters seem to follow on directly from this, as he tries to deepen his friendship with Tanuma while attempting to deal with a broken Yokai mirror. There’s no explicit BL in this series, but those who like to be fans of it will find plenty of evidence in this volume for the two of them having unresolved sexual tension.

(On a related note, Taki looks totally hot cross-dressing as a guy, and I fully support an OT3 between the three of them.)

The last main chapter of the book talks about Natsume’s relationship with his adopted parents, and we see flashbacks to where they met. Given that Natsume is so desperate to keep his yokai powers hidden from them in order to avoid having them worry (or, it’s unstated, to avoid creeping them out), this is another welcome look into Natsume’s life. Seeing the younger boy that he was, we realize how far he’s come in just a few short volumes. And a lot of it seems to be due to the love he gets from the Fujiwaras, who really do care about him as they would their own child. Seeing Natsume break down at the end was quite touching.

As you would expect from a volume dealing Natsume’s relationships with his friends and family, the yokai content is not as high as prior volumes. Though the yokai in the chapters with the Fujiwaras makes up for this by being extra creepy with a side of horrific. You’re quite pleased when Nyanko-sensei “deals” with it (and it’s always nice to see Nyanko-sensei in full-blown huge mode). There’s also a cute mini-story featuring Chobi, the odd moustachioed yokai we’ve seen as comic relief in a few volumes. It’s cute to see, and also serves to show how much the yokai are learning from Matsume.

Between this and Nura, Viz has sort of been on a yokai kick lately. (Any hopes for Gegege no Kitaro?) But the joy of reading this title is not for the yokai, though they’re very well done as well. It’s seeing an awkward, reclusive young boy come out of his shell and begin to show the love and affection to his friends and family that he hasn’t been able to do before. It’s a terrific series.

Velveteen & Mandala

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Jiro Matsumoto’s Velveteen & Mandala, a phantasmagoria of zombie-slaying, nudity, and poop, seems calibrated to shock readers into nervous laughter, though it’s never entirely clear if Matsumoto has a greater point to make. Like many of the shorts in the AX anthology, Velveteen & Mandala lacks any overarching sense of narrative direction or social commentary. The volume consists of fourteen loosely connected vignettes starring Velveteen, a ditzy blonde, and Mandala, her frenemy. Both are living on the outskirts of Tokyo, though the time is left to the reader’s imagination; all we know is that a war has ravaged the city, reducing it to a weedy sprawl of corpses, tanks, and abandoned buildings. In some of the stories, the two wield pistols and patrol their territory, shooting anything in sight; in others, they forage for food; and in others, their girlish horseplay shades in sadism or sexual violence.

The first three chapters are relatively innocuous, documenting the minutiae of the girls’ day-to-day existence. Velveteen lives in an amnesiac fog, snapping to consciousness only when she devises a new technique for torturing Mandala. Mandala, too, delights in annoying her friend, adopting verbal mannerisms that drive Velveteen to violent distraction. Neither seems particularly bright; their dialogue and destructive behavior make them seem like a pair of mean-spirited ko-gals.

The series takes a turn for the ugly in “The Super,” a brief story introducing a nameless, pantsless man to whom Velveteen administers a sharp crack on the head. (She wants to keys to his secret stash of weapons. And taxidermy animals. Yes, we’re in Underground Comix territory, folks.) From there on, Matsumoto begins playing up the scatological angle; we’re treated to numerous scenes of Velveteen defecating and vomiting, as well as images of her exposing herself.

The nadir is a gang rape scene in which Velveteen narrowly escapes her captors thanks to an explosive bout of indigestion. I’m guessing — perhaps wrongly — that Matsumoto intended this episode as a particularly nasty joke, designed to an elicit an appreciative “Dude! That’s so gross!” from readers. But as a feminist, it’s impossible not to find this passage yet another tiresome example of a male artist using sexual violence to titillate and shock the reader. (The loving way in which he draws a semi-naked Velveteen only confirms the pornographic impression.) Making things worse is that Matsumoto doesn’t just suggest that Velveteen is dirty, he literally covers her and her would-be assailants in her own filth. Nothing about the character or the story suggests that Matsumoto is trying to make a greater point about sexual violence, or level the playing between victim and attacker, or make the reader uncomfortably aware of his arousal at the scene; if anything, the cruelly unflattering way in which Matsumoto portrays Velveteen suggests a deep contempt for teenage girls.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Velveteen & Mandala is that Matsumoto is a genuinely good artist. His linework is superb, reminiscent of Taiyo Matsumoto and Daisuke Igurashi; it’s scratchy and energetic, well-suited to depicting the urban wasteland in which the story unfolds. His characters’ faces are superbly animated, too; few artists can draw malicious glee or surprise with such precision, even if that skill is put in service of drawing a thoroughly repellent cast.

Yet for all the obvious artistry behind Velveteen & Mandala, it’s a stretch to call this book a Hobbesian meditation on survival. Matsumoto’s dialogue is too stylized to register as genuine communication, while his fixation on the most bodily aspects of existence comes off as coprophilia, not meaningful commentary on the human condition. A more thoughtful artist might have found a way to put an intelligent or funny spin on the schoolgirls-slay-zombies premise, but in Matsumoto’s hands, the underlying message seems to be that teenage girls are just as nasty and despicable as the rest of us, as evidenced by the fact that they poop and puke, too.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc. Velveteen & Mandala will be released on August 30, 2011.

VELVETEEN & MANDALA • BY JIRO MATSUMOTO • VERTICAL, INC. • 344 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

Velveteen & Mandala

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Let’s just call this spade a spade: Jiro Matsumoto’s Velveteen & Mandala is a phantasmagoria of zombie-slaying, nudity, and poop. Though Velveteen seems calibrated to shock readers into nervous laughter, it’s never clear if Matsumoto has a greater point to make, as the manga lacks any overarching sense of narrative direction or social commentary.

The volume consists of fourteen loosely connected vignettes starring Velveteen, a ditzy blonde, and Mandala, her frenemy. Both are living on the outskirts of Tokyo, though the time is left to the reader’s imagination; all we know is that a war has ravaged the city, reducing it to a weedy sprawl of corpses, tanks, and abandoned buildings. In some of the stories, the two wield pistols and patrol their territory, shooting anything in sight; in others, they forage for food; and in others, their girlish horseplay shades in sadism or sexual violence.

The first three chapters are innocuous, documenting the minutiae of the girls’ day-to-day existence. Velveteen lives in an amnesiac fog, snapping to consciousness only when she devises a new technique for torturing Mandala. Mandala, too, delights in annoying her friend, adopting verbal mannerisms that drive Velveteen to violent distraction. Neither seems particularly bright; their dialogue and destructive behavior make them seem like a pair of mean-spirited ko-gals.

The series takes a turn for the ugly in “The Super,” a brief story introducing a nameless, pantsless man to whom Velveteen administers a sharp crack on the head. From there on, Matsumoto begins playing up the scatological angle. In subsequent chapters, we’re treated to numerous scenes of Velveteen defecating and vomiting, as well as images of her exposing herself.

The nadir is a gang rape scene in which Velveteen narrowly escapes her captors thanks to an explosive bout of indigestion. I’m guessing — perhaps wrongly — that Matsumoto intended this episode as a particularly nasty joke, designed to an elicit an appreciative “Dude! That’s so gross!” from readers. But as a feminist, it’s impossible not to find this passage yet another tiresome example of a male artist using sexual violence to titillate and shock the reader.

Making things worse is that Matsumoto doesn’t just suggest that Velveteen is dirty, he literally covers her and her would-be assailants in her own filth. Nothing about the character or the story suggests that Matsumoto is trying to make a greater point about sexual violence, level the playing field between victim and attacker, or make the reader uncomfortably aware of his arousal at the scene. If anything, the cruelly unflattering way in which Matsumoto portrays Velveteen suggests a deep contempt for teenage girls.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Velveteen & Mandala is that Matsumoto is a genuinely good artist. His linework is superb, reminiscent of Taiyo Matsumoto and Daisuke Igurashi; it’s scratchy and energetic, well-suited to depicting the urban wasteland in which the story unfolds. His characters’ faces are superbly animated, too; few artists can draw malicious glee or surprise with such precision, even if that skill is put in service of drawing a thoroughly repellent cast.

Yet for all the obvious artistry behind Velveteen & Mandala, it’s a stretch to call this book a Hobbesian meditation on survival. Matsumoto’s dialogue is too stylized to register as genuine communication, while his fixation on the most bodily aspects of existence comes off as coprophilia, not meaningful commentary on the human condition. A more thoughtful artist might have found a way to put an intelligent or funny spin on the schoolgirls-slay-zombies premise, but in Matsumoto’s hands, the underlying message seems to be that teenage girls are just as nasty and despicable as the rest of us, as evidenced by the fact that they poop and puke, too.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc. Velveteen & Mandala will be released on August 30, 2011.

VELVETEEN & MANDALA • BY JIRO MATSUMOTO • VERTICAL, INC. • 344 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

Scary Book Volume 1: Reflections by Kazuo Umezu

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Horror manga is generally not my thing. I do appreciate it when I stumble across it, but I’ve never felt the urge to collect all the volumes of a horror manga series. I am glad I tried out this volume of Scary Book, just because I haven’t read much Umezu before. This volume features two stories: “The Mirror” which shows what happens to a vain rich girl when the reflection she admires has a mind of her own and “The Demon of Vengeance” which has an almost inspiring story of revenge.

Emi lives in a mansion with an elaborate mirror. She loves standing in front of it, but as she grows older she starts to feel uneasy. She has a boyfriend, and is admired for her looks, but she’s old fashioned and affected in her mannerisms. When Emi’s boyfriend Mitsugu attempts to be physically affectionate with her she dumps him, then returns to her house where she keeps having horrible accidents, as if the mansion is trying to destroy her. Things get even worse when she has a dream about her reflection coming out of the mirror to strangle her only to wake up to see that her evil doppleganger is loose in the world, systematically destroying Emi’s life. The premise of an evil mirror twin might seem simple, but I was impressed by the way Umezu wrung every opportunity for psychological humiliation out of this story. Emi finds herself dating the class nerd, she fails at school for writing backwards, Mirror Emi takes her place with her family, and Emi finds herself wandering around town in shabby clothes only to find that no one is capable of recognizing her as a rich beautiful girl anymore. Even though Emi isn’t a particularly likeable character, I did like seeing that she starts taking action against Mirror Emi as the story progresses, she isn’t content to see her life taken over by a supernatural entity. Umezu’s illustrations are effective in portraying the creeping sense of menace that pervades the story as Emi finds herself fearful of mirrors or any reflective surface. He relies on stark black and white contrast often, saving details for when he is focusing on extra horrifying images, like Mirror Emi’s expressions of hatred.

“The Demon of Vengeance” is the story of a vassal who finds his life destroyed and manages to live in order to inflict the most horrible revenge on the lord who betrayed him, even when you might think that it might be physically impossible for him to do anything. I won’t say much because I don’t want to give anything away, but there were some moments in this story that were almost hilariously over the top in their deception of righteous anger. One of the things that is fun about Umezu is that people are fully committed to their emotions. No one is mildly afraid or angry, they are more scared than anyone ever has or ever will be again! Scary Book was a pleasant change of pace from my usual manga reading.

Pick of the Week: Short Stack

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With only five new manga releases shipping to Midown Comics this week, what will our bloggers pick? See below to find out!

SEAN: It’s a smaller week this time around, but even if there were tons of titles, my pick would likely be the same. I found the first volume of Q Hayashida’s Dorohedoro to be my favorite out of all the SigIkki titles, and subsequent volumes have only added to my enjoyment. Its grim and unforgiving fantasy dystopia is lovingly detailed (you can pore through the backgrounds for hours), and its plot straight out of anyone’s nightmares (ever wake up with your head replaced with a giant lizard’s?). The reason that I can deal with its sordid underbelly is the wicked (and equally violent) sense of humor it has, with its main cast never seeming to let the bad things that happen to them crush their spirits. In fact, Ciaman and Nikaido, and their ‘evil’ counterparts Shin and Noi, can be quite jovial! Give this quirky series a try (if you don’t mind blood, it’s quite violent.) Plus, female creator!

MJ: This is a tricky pick for me, with nothing I’m really excited about shipping into Midtown Comics this week. With that in mind, I’m going to go completely off the list and get into the spirit of this week’s Manga Moveable Feast by recommending that everyone pick up something by Fumi Yoshinaga. My rereads this week include favorite older series Flower of Life and Antique Bakery, but there is plenty of newer or current Yoshinaga to check out if those are hard to find. Both Yen Press (Not Love But Delicious Foods Make Me So Happy) and Viz Media (Ooku, All My Darling Daughters) have served up recent helpings of Yoshinaga that should be relatively easy to acquire. I recommend keeping some snacks handy. Reading Yoshinaga always makes me hungry.

DAVID: It might have escaped your notice, but our long, national nightmare is finally over, and the Eisner Awards have finally given a prize to Naoki Urasawa. After an enormous number of nominations, he won a 2011 Eisner for 20th Century Boys. Conveniently enough, the 16th volume of this series arrives this Wednesday. Equally convenient is the fact that this is my favorite Urasawa title to be released in English, so I have no problem recommending it. One of my few complaints with Urasawa’s work is his inclination toward over-seriousness, so the generally wry tone of this series is especially welcome. It’s a great thriller that doesn’t neglect humor as it spins its various yarns. (Oh, and if you happen to have the Viz app on one of your various devices, you can now read Oishinbo in that format. This is something that bears repeating.)

KATE: After reading Bluewater’s unauthorized bio-comic of Lady Gaga, I’m morbidly curious about Fame: 50 Cent. The Lady Gaga comic was almost impossible to describe: it featured a middle-aged rock journalist who reluctantly agrees to write an article about Gaga, only to have a surreal experience when he listens to “Bad Romance.” (He actually imagines that he’s Lady Gaga; the sight of a balding, hairy man in one of Gaga’s most outre costumes was worth the cover price alone.) I don’t know that the 50 Cent story lends itself to such an avant-garde presentation, but given the sheer weirdness of Bluewater’s other Fame comics, I can’t imagine it will be boring.

MICHELLE Sometimes I feel like the only person who likes Bokurano: Ours. Indeed, it is very grim—there are quite a few similarities with Ikigami, actually—and somewhat repetitive, as members of a group of children sit quietly in the background until it is their turn to sacrifice their life piloting a giant robot that is ostensibly defending Earth. As you might expect, this is very depressing, but some creepy circumstances surrounding the arrival of the aliens makes me question is any of this even real? In addition to being cruel and horrible, is all of this just futile? Just a game? It’s this underlying mystery that keeps me coming back despite the need for a fluffy shoujo transfusion I typically feel afterwards.

Readers, what looks good to you this week?