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Shojo Beat Quick Takes – Sakura Hime and Sand Chronicles

May 31, 2011 by Anna N

Sakura Hime: The Legend of Princess Sakura Volume 2

I found it very amusing that in one of the author notes for this volume, Tanemura wrote that she’d been holding herself back from using very much screentone in this volume and thus was worried that it looked unfinished. To my eyes it doesn’t look like Tanemura’s trademark excess of screentone has been curbed very much, but I should probably dig up some of her other series and compare. This volume continues with the antagonistic relationship between Sakura and Aoba, her fiance who sometimes likes her and sometimes wants to kill her. Now there are a couple of additional men vying for Sakura’s attention, as Aoba’s older brother Fujimurasaki seems more than willing to step in to help her out. There’s also the handsome Lord Enju who seems determined to send assassins to kill Aoba because he doesn’t want Sakura to be touched by “dirty humans”. Sakura decides to save Aoba despite his professed hatred of her in a gesture of senseless self-sacrifice that is fairly typical of Tanemura’s heroines, and the reader sees that Aoba’s feelings are wavering. The plotting is a tad incoherent, and I’m having trouble keeping some of the supporting cast straight. I still enjoy Tanemura’s illustrations and I’m looking forward to seeing Sakura grow stronger and confront her fate.

Sand Chronicles Volume 10

Sand Chronicles is one of my favorite dramatic shoujo series, and this volume provides a nice coda for the series. I really wish the concluding volumes had contained more Fuji. There’s just a couple glimpses of him here, and I would have liked a chapter or two just devoted to him. This volume is extremely Daigo-centric, as it shows him all grown up, married to Ann, and fully engaged in teaching Elementary school. Daigo’s relationship with an influential teacher from his past is explored, as his class gathers together to dig up a time capsule they buried 20 years ago. Ann and Daigo face a difficult issue with strength, and it is nice to see their marriage functioning so well as a support system for them both. Daigo is wrestling with becoming the type of teacher he wants for his students, and the idea that he may have an indelible effect on such young minds. He deals with the personalities in his class with compassion, spending extra time with the students of his that need more attention. After spending so much of the series seeing things from Ann’s point of view, it was nice to read a volume focused on Daigo. I felt like at last the characters were all going to be ok, and after so many turbulent twists and turns earlier on it was nice to see them fully engaged in daily life without much drama.

Review copy of Sakura Hime provided by the publisher.

A Few Weekend Links

May 31, 2011 by MJ 4 Comments

Good morning, readers! We took a Memorial Day break here at Manga Bookshelf yesterday, but we’ll be back to normal next week with our regular Monday features.

In the meantime, here are a few links you may have missed over the weekend:

At The Manga Critic, Kate reviewed Jiro Taniguchi’s A Zoo in Winter, due out at the end of June from Fanfare/Ponent Mon. Definitely this weekend’s must-read review.

At Soliloquy in Blue, Michelle and I looked for manga artwork illustrating the concept of mono no aware for this month’s installment of Let’s Get Visual. To that end, I take a look at several pages from Kiriko Nananan’s Blue while Michelle ponders a two-page spread from Peach Pit’s Shugo Chara! Do we know what we’re talking about? Come over and let us know!

At The Panelists, Derik Badman wraps up this month’s Manga Moveable Feast and announces the June selection, Kazuya Minekura’s Wild Adapter, which will be hosted right here at Manga Bookshelf! More on that soon!

Keep an eye out on Manga Bookshelf for tomorrow’s special announcement! Much more to come as the week goes on!

Let’s Get Visual: Mono no Aware

May 28, 2011 by MJ

MICHELLE: It’s the last Saturday of the month, and that means it’s time for another Let’s Get Visual column! Joining me as always is MJ, from Manga Bookshelf. This month, we’ve chosen images that convey the feeling of mono no aware, which Wikipedia defines as, “the awareness of impermanence, or the transience of things, and a gentle sadness (or wistfulness) at their passing.”

If I’m interpreting that definition correctly, there appears to be a subtle difference between mono no aware and outright nostalgia, where the former is more of-the-moment (Honey and Clover springs to mind here) while the latter would be something like the retrospective narration in Ai Yazawa’s NANA.

What’s your take on it, MJ?

MJ: I actually feel rather unclear myself, so I’m hoping that between you and our generous readers I’ll gain a better understanding via this column. Though I’ve read the Wikipedia entry, along with several other web pages that attempt to explain the concept, I’m not entirely sure I understand the true essence of mono no aware. I’ll do my best, of course, to take a stab at it!

MICHELLE: As will I! And if we do get it wrong, generous readers, please go easy on us!

What images have you chosen to talk about? (Click images to enlarge.)

Blue, Pages 224-end (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

MJ: Well, since we do focus on visuals here, I chose a series of panels from the end of Kiriko Nananan’s bittersweet yuri romance, Blue, published in English by Fanfare/Ponent Mon. To a great extent, I think the entire manga exemplifies mono no aware, at least as I understand it at this time, as its primary romance seems obviously transient from the beginning. There’s never a sense that its protagonists, Kirishima and Endo, have a long-term future together, so the tone is wistful throughout. Every detail, down to the artist’s stark drawing style, suggests a gentle melancholy, even in the characters’ happiest moments.

As you can see, the story’s final pages are nearly text-free. After exchanging restrained parting words, Kirishima rides off to Tokyo in a train, leaving Endo on the platform, smiling sadly. As the train pulls away, Kirishima turns and leans against the door, finally letting her tears fall, unseen by Endo.

Not only do these panels express the sadness of an (apparently) inevitable parting, but they deliberately display this in the simplest, most beautiful way possible. Nananan’s barely toned artwork accents the slightest movement, giving enormous weight to a single teardrop–even to a single fold in Kirishima’s clothing. This sadness is elegant in every way, down to the strands of black hair tumbling over Kirishima’s fingers in the books’ final frame. It’s gorgeous, truly, and so simply bittersweet.

Though, as I’ve said, I’m not entirely sure I fully understand mono no aware, these panels perfectly illustrates what I think it might be. I hope someone will tell me if I’m wrong or right.

MICHELLE: I think you’ve got it right, because we can tell that Kirishima realizes that this is the last time she is going to see Endo. She still loves her, but their time together is over. It’s a very sad scene, but it’s also a beautiful scene, and because this heartbreaking moment is depicted with such care and such clarity, I think it qualifies as mono no aware.

MJ: I’m relieved to know that you think so!

So what have you chosen to share with us tonight?

Shugo Chara!, Volume 10, Pages 148-149 (Kodansha Comics)

MICHELLE: I’ve chosen a two-page spread from the tenth volume of Peach-Pit’s magical girl series, Shugo Chara!. The series has followed its protagonist, Amu Hinamori, since she was in the fourth grade, and now her final days of sixth grade are drawing nigh. She and her friends are responsible for planning the graduation ceremony and Amu has gone to check out the state of the auditorium.

When she gets there, Amu is stunned by the sight of a room full of empty chairs. It’s silent and still, and its emptiness is only emphasized by the barrel ceiling. The sight reminds her of the many things that have happened at school and with her new friends, times when this room was full of life, but there’s more to it than that. There is still one more occasion where they will all be together—graduation. Things are not quite over for them, this room will once more be peopled by those whom Amu cares about, but still, the knowledge that change is imminent makes Amu wistful somewhat in advance.

Maybe the difference between mono no aware and nostalgia can be summed up as “these days will never come again” versus “those were the days.”

MJ: What a perfect choice for illustrating that point! You’re absolutely right, the wistfulness here is for the present much more than it is for the past. She’s living in the very moment she mourns, struck by the warmth of the present and its imminent loss all at once. What a lovely example, Michelle!

MICHELLE: Thanks! This image was the inspiration for this column, actually. I’ve certainly read other series that employ mono no aware—I loved that aspect of Honey and Clover before I even knew that it had a specific name—but I was struck by how this one spread conveyed the same idea almost completely wordlessly. “Living in the very moment she mourns” is a beautiful way to put it.

MJ: So I suppose it’s up to our readers now to let us know how well we’ve done in our attempt to interpret mono no aware?

MICHELLE: Indeed! And if anyone has images they’d like to share, please feel free! Also, please come back and join us next month for a special Wild Adapter-themed edition of Let’s Get Visual to coincide with the Manga Moveable Feast being hosted at Manga Bookshelf the week of June 19th through 25th!

A Zoo in Winter

May 28, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

One of the best-selling manga in the US right now is Bakuman, a drama about two teens trying to break into the Japanese comics industry. Flipping through the first two volumes, it’s easy to see why the series has such an ardent following: Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata have portrayed the characters’ journey not as an aesthetic or introspective process, but as an adventure story in which the boys battle progressively more talented opponents while they work toward their ultimate goal of creating a hit series.

For all its lip service to perseverance and craft, Bakuman is, at heart, a fantasy that trumpets youth, native ability, and confidence as the keys to artistic success. To be sure, Ohba and Obata make a concerted effort to show their characters engaged in the less dramatic aspects of manga-making: brainstorming story ideas, working with an editor, experimenting with unfamiliar tools. These scenes aren’t really meant to chart the boys’ growth as artists, however, but to reinforce the idea that Mashiro and Takagi are naturals.

Jiro Taniguchi’s forthcoming A Zoo in Winter offers a very different perspective on breaking into the manga industry, one in which the principle character engages in a long, complicated, and frequently humbling process of refining his skills. When we first meet seventeen-year-old Mitsuo Hamaguchi, he’s working at a manufacturing company, contemplating a future designing textiles while harboring dreams of becoming an artist. Hamaguchi spends his free time sketching animals at the local zoo, and chaperoning his boss’ wayward daughter on excursions around town.

At loose ends, Hamaguchi visits Tokyo on a whim, landing a position as an assistant to popular manga-ka Shiro Kondo. The work is anything but glamorous: Hamaguchi frequently pulls all-nighters, erasing pencil marks, blacking in objects, drawing speedlines, and copying backgrounds from other assistants’ drawings. Working on Kondo’s manga rekindles Hamaguchi’s own childhood ambition to become an artist, inspiring Hamaguchi to take live drawing classes and start work on his own story — a goal that proves more elusive than Hamaguchi imagined.

Hamaguchi’s emotional development is as fitful as his artistic. Though he’s savoring his independence, he frequently reverts to adolescent behavior whenever he hits a roadblock, wallowing in self-pity when another assistant seems poised to get his big break, for example, or drinking himself into a stupor when his girlfriend moves away. Hamaguchi’s relationship with his older brother is particularly telling: separated by ten years, Hamaguchi continues to view him as a father figure, squirming in embarrassment when his brother visits Kondo’s studio. (“Please, brother, try to mind your own business,” Hamaguchi pleads.) As their visit progresses, however, Hamaguchi marvels at his brother’s ability to chat up Kondo and mix with the bohemian element at the assistants’ favorite dive-bar, gradually realizing that his older brother isn’t as judgmental or rigid as Hamaguchi assumed, just deeply concerned with the family’s welfare.

In another artist’s hands, Hamaguchi’s brother might have been a sterner figure, one who dismissed an artistic career as a frivolous or irresponsible choice. Yet Jiro Taniguchi resists the temptation to make Hamaguchi’s brother into a straw man, instead allowing Hamaguchi to discover his brother’s relaxed decency for himself; Hamaguchi’s epiphany is a small one, but one that brings him a few steps closer to adulthood. Taniguchi manages the difficult feat of honoring the sincerity of Hamaguchi’s feelings while creating emotional distance between Hamaguchi and the reader; we’re not invited to experience Hamaguchi’s embarrassment so much as remember what it was like to learn that our parents were, in fact, just like all the other adults we knew and liked.

What makes these passages even more effective is Taniguchi’s draftsmanship. Though he has always been a superb illustrator, capable of evoking the bustling sprawl of a Japanese city or the craggy face of a mountain, his characters’ faces often had an impassive, Noh-mask quality. In Zoo in Winter, however, the characters’ facial expressions are rendered with the same precision he usually reserves for landscapes and interiors, capturing subtle shifts in their attitudes and emotions. Not that Taniguchi neglects the urban environment; one of the manga’s loveliest sequences unfolds in a zoo on a snowy day. Anyone who’s had the experience of running in Central Park on a rainy November afternoon, or walking a winter beach will immediately recognize Hamaguchi’s elation at having the zoo to himself, and of seeing the landscape transformed by the weather.

It’s the subtlety of the characterizations, however, that will remain with readers long after they’ve finished A Zoo in Winter. The story does more than just dramatize Hamaguchi’s journey from adolescence to adulthood; it shows us how his emotional maturation informs every aspect of his artistry — something that’s missing from many other portrait-of-an-artist-as-a-young-man sagas, which place much greater emphasis on the pleasure of professional recognition than on the satisfaction of mastering one’s craft. To be fair, Ohba and Obata address the issue of craft in Bakuman, but I’ll take the quiet honesty of A Zoo in Winter over the sound and fury of a Shonen Jump title any day. Highly recommended.

Review copy provided by Fanfare/Ponent Mon. A Zoo in Winter will be released on June 23, 2011.

A ZOO IN WINTER • BY JIRO TANIGUCHI • FANFARE/PONENT MON • 232 pp.

A Zoo in Winter

May 28, 2011 by Katherine Dacey 19 Comments

Review copy provided by Fanfare/Ponent Mon. A Zoo in Winter will be released on June 23, 2011.

A ZOO IN WINTER • BY JIRO TANIGUCHI • FANFARE/PONENT MON • 232 pp.

In the Presence of the Enemy by Elizabeth George

May 27, 2011 by Michelle Smith

Book description:
When a young girl disappears from the streets of London without a trace, her mother, a well-respected MP, is convinced she knows the identity of the kidnapper—the child’s father. But Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley and Sergeant Barbara Havers soon learn that nothing in this investigation is what it appears to be, and that in betrayal and deception, lies death.

Review:
Eleven years ago, at a Tory conference, a young political hopeful named Eve Bowen enjoyed a week-long fling with Dennis Luxford, a tabloid journalist with Labour Party views. There was no love between them, and when Eve found out she was pregnant, she informed Luxford that she didn’t want him to have anything to do with the child. Luxford respected her wishes, but when he receives an anonymous letter instructing him to acknowledge his firstborn on the front page of his newspaper or she’ll be killed, his first instinct is to comply.

Eve, now a Member of Parliament and an Undersecretary of the Home Office, won’t have it, however. Her suspicion of Luxford—he’s the only other person who knows the truth about the child’s parentage, after all—and obstinate refusal to even consider that he might be innocent blind her to the real peril her daughter, Charlotte, is in, and the delay ultimately costs Charlotte her life. Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers are called in to investigate, and then Luxford’s son, Leo, is taken.

It’s an intricate plot, with many enjoyable twists and turns, memorable characters, and a satisfying conclusion. Among the cast are two particularly infuriating women, though, whom I wanted to take a moment to describe. The first, Eve Bowen, views all events through the veil of what they might mean to her political career. She’s convinced that Luxford is out to ruin her, experiences essentially no grief when Charlotte dies, and is just thoroughly unpleasant throughout. The other, Corrine Payne, is the mother of the local constable with whom Havers works in Wiltshire. She’s convinced that Havers and her son are having an affair, and refuses to listen to any of Barbara’s denials. Plus, she’s manipulative in a feeble, whiny sort of way. I think what gets under my skin the most about both of them is the way they absolutely refuse to listen to reason. Irksome qualities aside, they’re both well-written characters, so this does not actually constitute a complaint of any kind.

Moving on to everything I liked! Because Eve refuses to go to the police, Luxford hires Simon St. James to do some investigating on his behalf, so a substantial portion of the beginning of the novel is Simon, Helen, and Deborah looking for clues. When Lynley finds out they were involved and could have gone to the police and possibly prevented Charlotte’s death, he is livid. And then Helen tells him off for being self-righteous. Everyone’s so likeable and flawed simultaneously; it’s great.

Also great is that Havers gets a chance to shine. Although Charlotte was kidnapped in London, her body is found in a canal in Wiltshire, so while Lynley—assisted by the increasingly charismatic DC Nkata—heads up the London end, Havers is given charge of the Wiltshire investigation, and performs admirably. George does employ the tried-and-true “female detective finds herself alone in the murderer’s clutches” plot development near the end, but Havers proves far from helpless, as does Leo Luxford.

The depiction of the Luxford family is also one of my favorite things about the book. Here’s a man, the editor of a sleazy tabloid newspaper, whom one would expect to care less about the life of a daughter he never met than her actual mother, but that turns out not to be the case at all. He also faces some unpleasant truths about his motives for attempting to toughen up his son, and realizes near the end of the book the tyrannical figure he’s become in that regard. The final scene concerns this family and it seriously made me cry.

I think this may actually be my favorite Lynley mystery yet!

License request day: Adachi shôjo

May 27, 2011 by David Welsh

I love a lot of shônen created by women. There’s Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist and Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½. Yumi Hotta’s script for Hikaru no Go goes just as far to make the series a favorite as Takeshi Obta’s art does. There’s a lot to like in Yuu Watase’s Arata: The Legend, and Kazue Kato’s Blue Exorcist shows a lot of promise. I’m probably deep into the three-volume collection of Yellow Tanabe’s critically acclaimed Kekkaishi as you read this.

I would love to read more shôjo created by men to see if that construct also applies, but there’s very little available in English. I quite enjoyed Meca Tanaka’s Omukae Desu and Pearl Pink. I’m still mourning the discontinuation of Crown, largely for its sly, snappy script by Shinji (Sukeban Deka) Wada (though the title’s attractive art by You Higuri certainly doesn’t hurt.) And I’m positively impatient about the opportunity to read Osamu Tezuka’s Princess Knight later this year.

So imagine my excitement when I discovered that Mitsuru Adachi, creator of the title featured in the current Manga Moveable Feast, has done a number of shôjo series. I’ll happily read anything he creates (and I have to track down copies of Short Program, which includes some shôjo shorts), and I’ve already requested Rough, but I’m very curious about these earlier works.

First up is Slow Step, which ran for seven volumes in Shogakukan’s Ciao. It’s about a schoolgirl who’s looking for love, is besieged by suitors, and is harassed by a pervy teacher, and it involves boxing, baseball, criminals, and disguise. Why not?

Hitari Ryoukou! (which ran for five volumes in Shogakukan’s Sho-Comi), gives us Adachi in reverse-harem mode. It’s about a girl whose aunt runs a boarding house filled with high-school boys. Our heroine tries to stay true to her overseas boyfriend, but she’s developing feelings for one of the boarders.

Ah! Seishun no Koushien, originally published by Shogakukan, seven volumes, is about kids who want to make it to the youth baseball championships! Sound familiar? Still, Adachi seems gifted at finding variety in familiar scenarios, so I’m not going to let familiarity breed contempt or anything near it.

Of all of those, I think I’m most interested in the promised slice-of-life vibe of Hitari Ryoukou! Which one looks good to you?

Cross Game Volume 3

May 26, 2011 by Anna N

I was so happy that Cross Game was selected to be featured in the May Moveable Feast. It is very rare to come across anything that is so well executed that it immediately wins me over, but that was my reaction to the first and second omnibus volumes. In broad strokes, a battle for the soul of baseball has been set up over the first few volumes, and the third volume (which contains the Japanese volumes 6 and 7) shows the ultimate confrontation between the corrupt new coach’s handpicked team of elites vs Ko’s natural talent and the enthusiasm of the second tier Portable team. I love the cover for this volume, which shoes Ko and Aoba standing shoulder to shoulder and snarling at each other. It serves as an excellent illustration for the way their relationship is simultaneously close and antagonistic.

The portable team’s game against the main team also becomes a battle for the main coaching position. The Seishu coach Daimon continues to be blind in his pursuit of success. He and the interim principal don’t realize that the scruffy old man hanging out at the baseball field is actually the chairman of the board. Daimon assumes that the portable team’s losing streak means that they’ll be easy to beat. Seishu team start Azuma has been observing his teammates leave and Daimon’s complete unconcern for the health of his players. He announces that he isn’t going to be playing in the game, slamming his hand into the wall and saying that he’s too injured to play. Azuma only wants to play baseball with the best team, and if the Seishu team can only win with him, he knows where he really be should be.

Aoba is recruited to play with Ko’s team and objects to being assigned to play center because she wants to pitch. Akaishi comments that she hasn’t faced off against Ko in a long time. Ko pitches to her, and Akaishi confirms that center is now ok with her. The match starts, and the score remains tied at 0-0 for a long time. Azuma keeps making pointed comments at Daimon, wondering if he even knows the names of the teams the portable team lost to. It turns out that they were practicing against elite teams, and Ko was deliberately allowing hits for most of the game in order to give everybody fielding practice. The game progresses and the look of dawning horror on Daimon’s face is quite enjoyable.

One thing I liked about this volume is it gave increased insights into Azuma’s personality and motivations. He’s always seemed a bit like a grim warrior of baseball, but now I can finally understand why he’s so driven. Azuma’s older brother Junpei appears and starts trying to chat up the oldest Wakaba sister, Ichiyo. On the surface Junpei seems goofy and laid back, but when he comes across his brother training Junpei picks up a baseball with a practiced grip. Azuma tells his brother that he promises that he’ll get to Koshien. Junpei just replies that Azuma should have more fun with baseball and walks away, leaving the ball on a chair. Junpei was an athletic star, but his dream was derailed when he was injured.

After the long buildup to the confrontation between the coaches and baseball teams, it was a relief to see that the rest of the volume was focused on shorter slice of life stories. It felt to me like the characters finally had a bit of breathing room. Azuma moves in with Ko’s family when the dorms are shut down. Aoba is getting hit on all the time. Memories of Wakaba continue to cascade through Aoba and Ko’s lives. This volume felt like the conclusion of the first major story arc of the series. I’m still loving the combination of action, romance, humor, and drama. It is rare to find a series that functions well on so many levels. I’m eager to see the next chapters that show Ko working to get to the ultimate baseball tournament at Koshien.

Off the Shelf: Girls & Monsters

May 25, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 6 Comments

MJ: Well, hello again, my friend! Does it seem possible that we’ve been writing this column together for nearly a year?

MICHELLE: Because I’m so proud of what we’ve accomplished and all the series we’ve covered, I’d say it does, actually, but it’s certainly gone by swiftly!

MJ: Indeed it has! So to continue being swift about it, I’ll get right to business. What have you been reading this past week?

MICHELLE: Heaps and heaps of good stuff, actually! In particular, the latest volumes of two shoujo series that were originally published by Del Rey and which have emerged from a long, gloomy hiatus into the optimistic sunshine of Kodansha Comics!

First off, there’s volume two of Arisa by Natsumi Ando. I’d heard good things about Ando’s Kitchen Princess—I’ve yet to read it, though this will soon be rectified—so it didn’t actually come as a surprise that Arisa is a lot of creepy, suspenseful fun, but that doesn’t diminish my gladness at all. The gist of the story is simple: Tsubasa Uehara and her twin, Arisa Sonoda, were separated by their parents’ divorce and haven’t seen each other in three years. They’ve been writing letters, though, and Arisa’s always depicted her life as close to perfect, with lots of friends, a cute boyfriend, and a successful school career. Imagine Tsubasa’s surprise, then, when soon after meeting up again, Arisa attempts suicide.

Tsubasa is determined to get to the bottom of what’s bothering her sister, and so attends Arisa’s school in her guise. At first, all seems normal, but she soon learns about a bizarre weekly ritual in which the students submit wishes to “the King,” who will choose one to grant. No wish is beyond the King’s power, and Tsubasa witnesses him/her successfully “disappear” a pervy gym teacher in fulfillment of a student’s wish. Her investigation suggests that the King is the class bad boy, Manabe, and volume two picks up with a twist about the King’s actual identity and the revelation that someone knows who Tsubasa really is and wants her to back off, else they’ll do something to still-comatose Arisa.

I’m a big fan of sheer atmosphere, and Arisa has it in spades. No one is what they initially seemed to be, and Arisa’s supposed best friend, Mariko, is shaping up to be positively unhinged. Then there’s her mild-mannered boyfriend, who really can’t be that benign, can he? It’s twisty and turny and suspenseful in an extremely delightful way, and I am quite glad that Kodansha’s got it on a bimonthly schedule because I am honestly going to dive into volume three the moment I get the tape off the box.

MJ: Wow, you know, I’d read a little bit about this series, but your description is the first that’s made me want to run to the bookstore and grab it up for myself. I’m especially interested in all this atmosphere you rave about.

MICHELLE: Now I worry I’ve overstated its brilliance, but it really is both entertaining and unique. If I had to liken it to anything, it’d be After School Nightmare, which has a similar “who among my classmates is the one I seek” sort of thing going on, at least in the one volume I’ve read.

How about you? Read anything good?

MJ: I have! My week has had a distinctly different flavor than yours, but also publisher-specific. It’s been a Vertical week for me, beginning with the fourth and final volume of Nobuaki Tadano’s 7 Billion Needles, one of my favorite new series last year. Adapted from Hal Clement’s 1950 novel, Needle, this series follows a sullen teenager named Hikaru whose life has changed forever thanks to an alien parasite (later two of them) who takes up permanent residence in her body.

Though I complained here a few months ago that the series’ third volume had taken an unfortunate turn, leaving behind its striking tale about human connection in order to explore new, less-coherant themes, I’m pleased to report that this is far from fatal. Though the story’s new plotline involving a planetary macro-evolution persists in its final volume, the series’ real focus turns back to Hikaru, whose personal journey really is what makes the whole thing work.

Contrary to anything she might have believed just a few volumes ago, Hikaru’s got people worth saving in her life, and save them she does, without anything more than her own desire. Sure, she’s got superpowers of a sort, what with all those aliens rumbling around inside, but her real strength is her own, and it’s a strength that she’s discovered by simply being human.

With all the excitement and chaos of final battles and whatnot, Tadano’s horror-tinged artwork really shines in this volume, particularly in its most esoteric moments. I’d even go so far as to say that the “macro-evolution” business is actually saved by the artwork, which manages to express itself more clearly than the narrative in those sections. Another treat is “Hikhikomori Headphone Girl,” the short comic that provided the template for Tadano’s Hikaru, which is included at the back of the volume.

7 Billion Needles isn’t a perfect series, but at just four volumes, it’s one of the few short manga series I personally can see myself voluntarily rereading. Given my preferences for epic storytelling, that’s no small praise.

MICHELLE: I’ve always planned to read this series, but after two or three volumes of a four-volume series have come out, one begins to think, “Well, maybe I’ll just wait and read it all in one swell foop.” I’m glad to hear, though, that it comes to a satisfying conclusion!

MJ: It really does, and I think it probably reads even better all at once. I plan to try it that way myself.

So what else have you got for us this week?

MICHELLE: The latest volume in a series that I know you adore, Shugo Chara!. After having meant to do so for ages, I’ve finally caught up on this charming magical girl series, just in time for Kodansha to release volume ten. And what an important volume this is!

When the story left off, heroine Amu Hinamori and her friends were infiltrating the headquarters of a sinister corporation known as Easter, who had finally acquired the Embryo, the magical wish-granting egg (long story) for which they had recklessly been searching. Although I found the big reveal of Easter’s boss to be predictable, his/her reasons for acquiring the Embryo are not at all what I expected. Amu works her Shoujo Heroine Magic upon him/her as well as upon his/her chief minion, who happens to be the stepfather to her love interest, Ikuto.

This, in turn, leads to some resolution in Ikuto’s home life, as he is finally freed of his obligation to help Easter and gets the chance to fully explain himself to Tadase, Amu’s other love interest, who has hated him the past two years. This is the best part of the volume for me because, as I read earlier volumes, I started to question exactly what Ikuto’s Guardian Character, the cat-like Yoru, said about him. Guardian Characters are supposed to have some quality the child would like to possess, and what was there about sweet but kind of cartoony Yoru that a brooding high schooler like Ikuto would desire? And then it came to me… freedom. Yoru is free. He can sleep when he likes, eat when he likes… No one can make a cat do something it doesn’t want to do. Freedom is something Ikuto has never had, until now. And now that he does have it, he’s going to put it to good use.

And then Amu and her classmates, most of them sixth graders, prepare to graduate. Honestly, there is so much resolution here, I began to seriously wonder what kind of material Peach-Pit could find to fill in the final two volumes! I needn’t have been concerned, however, as the final handful of pages serve up a shocking development that will, I suspect, ultimately compel Amu to make real progress on discovering what kind of person she really wants to be.

MJ: I’m so pleased that you are enjoying this series! Yes, I do adore it, and I’ve spent pages and pages of webspace explaining exactly why, so I won’t go into a lecture now, but yes. You’re so much on the nose regarding Ikuto and Yoru. And, okay, I will go on slightly about one thing. What I especially love about Amu as a heroine is that unlike so many shoujo heroines these days, she’s not an “ordinary” girl with no particular special qualities other than just being the heroine of the manga. She’s confused and unsure of who she is and who she even wants to be, but she’s got a multitude of possibilities in front of her. And though she’s interested in boys, certainly, her real journey is about choosing her own path, not choosing who to walk with. If that makes sense.

MICHELLE: It makes perfect sense, and that’s a great point about Amu! As a result, it doesn’t present as false when several boys are interested in her, like it does when the heroine is sort of hopeless. The series is magical girl done right, and I’m a bit sad that Peach-Pit hasn’t written more in this genre, though I’m now interested in checking out Zombie-Loan, another of their series (released in English by Yen Press).

So, you said it was a Vertical night, eh? What else is on the menu?

MJ: My second Vertical read this week was Usamaru Furuya’s Lychee Light Club. Adapted from a theater piece of the same name, Lychee Light Club is the story of a group of middle school boys who have created their own secret society sort of dedicated to their general rejection of the adult world.

As the story begins, they’ve just completed construction of a lychee-fueled humanoid machine (much in the mold of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster) apparently for the purpose of kidnapping pretty, young girls. After some trial and error, as the machine learns what things like”pretty” and “young” actually mean, they manage to capture one in particular whom they intend to imprison indefinitely as their own personal idol.

There are a couple of parallel plots going on here. When the boys are out at night, the girl ends up befriending the monster, tapping into its desire to become more human. Meanwhile, the boys are fighting amongst themselves over the morality of what they’re doing, who’s in charge, who’s devoted to whom, and so on. The overall point of it seems to be that the boys become monsters while their monster becomes human, though some of the specifics along the way get a bit muddled.

Let me begin by saying that I found this manga really fascinating and incredibly striking, visually. The whole thing feels like a theater piece, more than any comic I’ve ever read, and it’s honestly stunning. I am thrilled to have read it for this element alone.

That said, I also think it’s kind of a mess. Though the boys’ inner society is decently fleshed out, what I’m really missing here is a sense of context. I get what they’re doing, but I don’t get why. They’re rebelling against a world we never really see, and as a result, we can’t understand who these boys are. Where do they come from? What’s sickened them so much about the grownup world? And what kind of society do they live in where they can carry on with heinous crimes like kidnapping, mutilation, and murder without anyone even noticing?

There’s a lot here I can take on faith as a reader. I don’t need to know how they built a monster that runs on lychee fruit, for instance. It’s incredible, but well within what I’m willing to accept as premise. But the lack of context for the boys’ self-made way of life keeps me from being able to embrace Furuya’s universe fully, and that’s enough to keep the story from becoming truly engaging.

There are a lot of things that could be said here, too, about the manga’s extreme violence and treatment of women–issues that have been covered quite beautifully already by Kate and David. Overall, though, my biggest personal obstacle with this story was its lack of context for the boys’ actions. Without that, I found it difficult to commit as a reader.

MICHELLE: Believe it or not, this actually reassures me that I will find something to like about it! I haven’t read it yet, and therefore haven’t read Kate and David’s piece, but just the premise alone made me a little wary. I can deal with a few flaws if I get something stunning out of the deal!

MJ: I hope that you will find something to like about it. I certainly did. And I’m quite interested now in reading more of Furuya’s work.

Well, wow, talk about swift, nine-thirty and we’re already done? Whatever will we do with ourselves?

MICHELLE: My sink is full of dirty dishes, so it seems my fate is predetermined.

MJ: Well, that’s depressing. Godspeed?

MICHELLE: Well, I have got a dishwasher, at least.

MJ: My pity has turned to sheer envy.

MICHELLE: You poor soul.

MJ: *snif*

The Josei Alphabet: Q

May 25, 2011 by David Welsh

“Q” is for…

… not very much at all, but there is one title that sounds potentially awesome.

QB Karin – Keishichou Tokushu SP-ban, written and illustrated by Yuriko Nishiyama, currently serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss. A female police inspector leads an elite squad of hunks tasked with protecting very important female persons. Nishiyama also created the well-liked Dragon Voice and long-running street basketball saga Harlem Beat, both of which were partially published by Tokyopop. (The fate of Dragon Voice was particularly cruel, as it stopped just one volume short of completion.) In other words, Nishiyama has suffered from what Kate Dacey might call the Ai Morinaga Syndrome. She could use some luck, and perhaps this enticing-sounding mash-up could be the solution. Here’s the Kiss site for the series.

What starts with “Q” in your josei alphabet?