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A Bride’s Story, Vol. 1

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For nearly 3,000 years, the Silk Road connected Asia with Africa and the Middle East, providing a conduit for the ancient world’s most precious commodities: silk, spices, glassware, medicine, perfume, livestock. By the nineteenth century, when A Bride’s Story takes place, the overland trade routes had been eclipsed in importance by maritime ones that linked China directly with India, Somalia, and the Mediterranean. Yet the Silk Road continued to play a vital role in bridging smaller geographical divides, as the main plot in A Bride’s Story demonstrates.

Set in Central Asia, A Bride’s Story focuses on two clans: the Halgal, a nomadic tribe whose livelihood depends on a mixture of hunting and herding, and the Eihon, farmers with a permanent homestead near the Caspian Sea. The families arrange a marriage between twenty-year-old Amir, the oldest Halgal daughter, and twelve-year-old Karluk, the future Eihon patriarch. As that age gap implies, Amir and Karluk’s union is one of political and economic expedience, designed to help the Eihon clan preserve its territory. Each family has reservations about the match: the Eihon believe that Amir is too old to bear Karluk a good-sized family, while the Halgal want to dissolve the union and betroth Amir to the leader of a neighboring tribe.

Amir and Karluk, however, seem more content with the arrangement than their elders. Given their age gap, Amir is more mother than wife to Karluk. There’s a note of urgency and purpose in Amir’s ministrations — she’s keen to prove her worth to the Eihons, especially when Karluk falls ill — but there’s also a genuine warmth and kindness in her gestures. Karluk, for his part, seems very much like a young teenager, intrigued by Amir’s beauty and charisma, but still too uncomfortable in his own skin to be physically demonstrative with her; Amir seems much keener to consummate their marriage, lest she lose her standing with the Eihon clan.

One of the great pleasures of A Bride’s Story is its strong cast of female characters. Balkirsh, the Eihon matriarch, proves Amir’s staunchest ally, fiercely rebuffing the Halgal’s efforts to reclaim Amir with a well-placed arrow. Though Balkirsh never explicitly states why she identifies with her daughter-in-law, the bow-and-arrow scene is telling, hinting at a shared cultural heritage that binds the two women. Amir, too, is a memorable character; she’s a terrific physical specimen, agile and fearless on horseback, but her true strength is her keen emotional intelligence. She accepts her new marriage without complaint, rapidly insinuating herself into the Eihon clan while preserving her own sense of self by introducing Karluk to her family’s customs.

The artwork, too, is another compelling reason to read A Bride’s Story. As she did in Emma and Shirley, Kaoru Mori pours her energy into period detail: clothing, furnishings, architecture. By far her most striking designs are the tribal costumes worn by the Eihon and the Halgal. Mori painstakingly draws embroidery, ornaments, and layers of fabric; watching Amir mount her horse, one can almost hear the swish of her skirts and the jingle of her earrings. Mori is similarly meticulous when rendering the surfaces of common household objects; she etches an intricate floral design into a silver tea set and weaves elegant, delicate patterns into the rugs that grace the walls and floors of the Eihon compound, luxuriating in the artistry with which these items were made.

At the same time, however, the Central Asian setting grants Mori greater license to make her characters move — something she rarely did in the overstuffed parlors  and crowded London streets in Emma and Shirley. To be sure, Mori’s flair for staging dynamic scenes was evident in Emma, when Hakim Atawari made a show-stopping entrance astride an elephant. In A Bride’s Story, however, Mori’s active sequences are less flashy and more fluid; they feel less like dramatic stunts than an organic part of the story, helping the reader understand how physically taxing Amir and Karluk’s labors are while helping us appreciate the scale and severity of the landscape.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of volume one is just how uneventful it is. Kaoru Mori is content to let her narrative follow the rhythms of everyday life, pausing to show us a master carver in his wood shop, or a group of women cooking a meal, or a young boy tending chickens. Yet A Bride’s Story is never dull, thanks to Mori’s smart, engaging dialogue; as she demonstrated in Emma and Shirley, Mori can make even the simplest moments revealing, whether her characters are preparing a manor house for the master’s return or discussing the merits of rabbit stew. By allowing her story to unfold in such a naturalistic fashion, A Bride’s Story manages to be both intimate and expansive, giving us a taste of what it might have been like to live along the Silk Road in the nineteenth century. Highly recommended.

A BRIDE’S STORY, VOL. 1 • BY KAORU MORI • YEN PRESS • 192 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

A Bride’s Story, Vol. 1

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For nearly 3,000 years, the Silk Road connected Asia with Africa and the Middle East, providing a conduit for the ancient world’s most precious commodities: silk, spices, glassware, medicine, perfume, livestock. By the nineteenth century, when A Bride’s Story takes place, the overland trade routes had been eclipsed in importance by maritime ones that linked China directly with India, Somalia, and the Mediterranean. Yet the Silk Road continued to play a vital role in bridging smaller geographical divides, as the main plot in A Bride’s Story demonstrates.

Set in Central Asia, A Bride’s Story focuses on two clans: the Halgal, a nomadic tribe whose livelihood depends on a mixture of hunting and herding, and the Eihon, farmers with a permanent homestead near the Caspian Sea. The families arrange a marriage between twenty-year-old Amir, the oldest Halgal daughter, and twelve-year-old Karluk, the future Eihon patriarch. As that age gap implies, Amir and Karluk’s union is one of political and economic expedience, designed to help the Eihon clan preserve its territory. Each family has reservations about the match: the Eihon believe that Amir is too old to bear Karluk a good-sized family, while the Halgal want to dissolve the union and betroth Amir to the leader of a neighboring tribe.

Amir and Karluk, however, seem more content with the arrangement than their elders. Given their age gap, Amir is more mother than wife to Karluk. There’s a note of urgency and purpose in Amir’s ministrations — she’s keen to prove her worth to the Eihons, especially when Karluk falls ill — but there’s also a genuine warmth and kindness in her gestures. Karluk, for his part, seems very much like a young teenager, intrigued by Amir’s beauty and charisma, but still too uncomfortable in his own skin to be physically demonstrative with her; Amir seems much keener to consummate their marriage, lest she lose her standing with the Eihon clan.

One of the great pleasures of A Bride’s Story is its strong cast of female characters. Balkirsh, the Eihon matriarch, proves Amir’s staunchest ally, fiercely rebuffing the Halgal’s efforts to reclaim Amir with a well-placed arrow. Though Balkirsh never explicitly states why she identifies with her daughter-in-law, the bow-and-arrow scene is telling, hinting at a shared cultural heritage that binds the two women. Amir, too, is a memorable character; she’s a terrific physical specimen, agile and fearless on horseback, but her true strength is her keen emotional intelligence. She accepts her new marriage without complaint, rapidly insinuating herself into the Eihon clan while preserving her own sense of self by introducing Karluk to her family’s customs.

The artwork, too, is another compelling reason to read A Bride’s Story. As she did in Emma and Shirley, Kaoru Mori pours her energy into period detail: clothing, furnishings, architecture. By far her most striking designs are the tribal costumes worn by the Eihon and the Halgal. Mori painstakingly draws embroidery, ornaments, and layers of fabric; watching Amir mount her horse, one can almost hear the swish of her skirts and the jingle of her earrings. Mori is similarly meticulous when rendering the surfaces of common household objects; she etches an intricate floral design into a silver tea set and weaves elegant, delicate patterns into the rugs that grace the walls and floors of the Eihon compound, luxuriating in the artistry with which these items were made.

At the same time, however, the Central Asian setting grants Mori greater license to make her characters move — something she rarely did in the overstuffed parlors  and crowded London streets in Emma and Shirley. To be sure, Mori’s flair for staging dynamic scenes was evident in Emma, when Hakim Atawari made a show-stopping entrance astride an elephant. In A Bride’s Story, however, Mori’s active sequences are less flashy and more fluid; they feel less like dramatic stunts than an organic part of the story, helping the reader understand how physically taxing Amir and Karluk’s labors are while helping us appreciate the scale and severity of the landscape.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of volume one is just how uneventful it is. Kaoru Mori is content to let her narrative follow the rhythms of everyday life, pausing to show us a master carver in his wood shop, or a group of women cooking a meal, or a young boy tending chickens. Yet A Bride’s Story is never dull, thanks to Mori’s smart, engaging dialogue; as she demonstrated in Emma and Shirley, Mori can make even the simplest moments revealing, whether her characters are preparing a manor house for the master’s return or discussing the merits of rabbit stew. By allowing her story to unfold in such a naturalistic fashion, A Bride’s Story manages to be both intimate and expansive, giving us a taste of what it might have been like to live along the Silk Road in the nineteenth century. Highly recommended.

A BRIDE’S STORY, VOL. 1 • BY KAORU MORI • YEN PRESS • 192 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Full House 1-4 by Sooyeon Won

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There’s certainly plenty of precedent for romantic comedies in which a feisty, average girl exchanges snarky banter with a rich and handsome fellow (to whom she is often secretly attracted even while deeming him odious). It may just be a licensing fluke, but it seems that a large portion of the sunjeong manhwa that I’ve read (Very! Very! Sweet, Sugarholic, Goong: The Royal Palace, There’s Something About Sunyool) also follows this formula. Now, I can add Sooyeon Won’s Full House to that list.

Ellie Ji is a Korean living alone in the UK after the deaths of her parents. Although her family relocated while Ellie was in primary school, she still doesn’t feel quite at home in England, so the lovely house her architect father built and left to her is an important refuge. One morning, she is unceremoniously ousted by emissaries of Ryder Baye, a famous actor, who claim that he is now the owner of the home, known as Full House. Hot-tempered Ellie vows to get the house back, no matter what it takes, and when Ryder hits her with his car, the perfect opportunity arises.

Ellie demands Ryder hand over Full House as compensation for her injuries, but he’s not having that, and thus they embark upon the first of what will be many, many, many arguments. Finally, Ellie declares, “I’ll even marry you, if that’ll do the trick!!” Ryder is far from enthused (“How could you say such a thing, when the very idea of wedding you is so horrific?! It’s beyond absurd, and even more disgusting than vomit and foot odor!”) but his manager, Miranda, likes the idea because it’ll help quash some nasty rumors that Ryder is gay. Eventually, everyone ends up agreeing to the arrangement.

So, once Ellie is discharged from the hospital, she and Ryder officially announce their engagement and move into Full House, with Ryder occupying the first floor and Ellie the second. Whereupon they proceed to have the rest of those many, many, many arguments I mentioned earlier. Ellie can be hyper-defensive and obnoxious, while Ryder is somewhat more sympathetic but yet unable to say what needs to be said to defuse a hostile situation. Sometimes they almost seem to get along, then something happens to derail that. Seriously, I can’t even list all the things they find to get up in arms about, because it’s kind of ridiculous and, more importantly, absolutely wearing upon the reader. Probably the worst moment is when Ryder offers to introduce Ellie, an aspiring screenwriter, to a director and she scathingly retorts, “I’m so grateful I’m about to break into tears! Should I bow down and kiss your feet to show my appreciation?”

The characters do and say things that make one want to shake them, like Ellie’s reluctance to just tell Ryder that her dad built that house and that she’d been living in it. They’d also rather let misunderstandings and misconceptions of their motives persist than deign to provide an exonerating explanation for their behavior. Sometimes this kind of dynamic can work for me in a couple—I actually like all those series I mentioned above—but here, I just really found it maddening. They’re bound and determined to be nasty to each other, even though they both surely realize there’s something good about their influence on each other. For Ryder, Ellie serves as a “stimulant,” when compared with all the other docile fangirls who throw themselves upon him. For Ellie, Ryder’s insistence upon public appearances awakens her potential as a stunning beauty and helps the once uncouth girl develop genuine poise.

Beyond its aggravating central relationship, Full House has some other odd quirks. As demonstrated by the quotes above, the dialogue is often over-the-top and laughable. (Felix, Ellie’s former beau, on learning of her engagement: “I couldn’t fall asleep from being so overwhelmed and busy sobbing.”) There are some grammatical errors, as well. On the plus side, some effort is made to make the speech sound British, with a scattering of “bloke”s and “bloody wanker”s peppering the script. Plotting is also similarly melodramatic. For example, volume four concludes with the sudden revelation that Ryder has a brain tumor and only three to five months to live. Dun dun dun!

Despite my gripes, I actually don’t hate Full House at all. I do marvel, though, that there are sixteen volumes in this series, plus a five-volume sequel. Are they all like this? I positively long for these two to have a civil conversation, and perhaps they will do, if the events of the first chapter of volume five (the only portion of that volume currently available on the NETCOMICS website) are any indication.

And now I’ve just realized that my opinion toward this series—it drives me crazy, but I can’t seem to leave it alone—is exactly what’s going on between its two leads. So, perhaps what I really ought to be saying is “Well done, Miss Won?”

Full House was originally published in English by the now-defunct CPM, but only the first four volumes—out of a total of sixteen—were released. The series is being released on the NETCOMICS website with a new translation, though the last update (the first chapter of volume five) was just over three months ago. No print editions have yet been produced.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Final

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Welcome again, and for the very last time, to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

We greet you this month with our final installment, covering volumes seventeen through nineteen of this epic series, as well as two side stories (“Angel Eyes” and “Garden of Light”) which are included in the final volume of the English-language edition of the manga. It’s hard to believe we’ve finally come to the end!

I’m joined again in this round by Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Khursten Santos (Otaku Champloo), Connie C. (Slightly Biased Manga), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), and Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights).

Just a note before we begin, this final edition of “Breaking Down Banana Fish” contains in-depth discussion of the series’ final chapters, including the outcome of the all series’ main conflicts and the fates of its characters. Obviously this means spoilers, so if you’re new to the series we recommend you begin reading along with the discussions listed below.

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, volumes five and six here, volumes seven and eight here, volumes nine and ten here, volumes eleven through thirteen here, and volumes fourteen through sixteen here. On to roundtable eight!

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A Bride's Story Volume 1

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I think it is nice that Kaoru Mori’s manga inspires special treatment. The editions of Emma from CMX featured matte paper stock that gave the volumes an old timey feel. A Bride’s Story gets the deluxe treatment from Yen Press, with the first volume arriving as an over sized hardback with a lovely wraparound illustration on the dust jacket. The painstaking research, sympathetic characters, and lovely detailed illustrations that readers enjoyed in Emma are in full effect in A Bride’s Story, with the bonus of a heroine who enjoys hunting rabbits from horseback with a bow.

The story takes place along the Silk Road in the 19th century. Amir is twenty years old, and she’s sent to marry a twelve year old boy named Karluk. Amir comes from a more nomadic tribe than Karluk’s family, with the result that she brings with her some skills that her new family hasn’t possessed in awhile. Amir seems anxious to fit into her new place, trying to be helpful whenever possible and she seems to be waiting for her new husband to grow up. Evidently twenty years is an unforgivably old age for a bride, and the backstory behind the marriage isn’t shown. Karluk is an uncommonly calm twelve year old, who seems to take his responsibilities very seriously. He jumps at the chance to try to locate his uncle’s clan of shepherds, wanting to be reintroduced to his relatives as a married man.

I’d always thought that Mori’s slice of life stories are particularly good at portraying children and how they negotiate the world. Rostam, the youngest member of the household, becomes fascinated with the local woodcarver and he neglects his chores to observe him. This gives Mori the excuse to showcase some dazzling panels of woodcarving patters, as well as showing the reactions of Rostam’s family. His mother sends him to bed without dinner, then tasks Amir with sneaking him food later. When it is clear that this is a general pattern of Rostam getting punishments that his mother immediately regrets, Amir declines to participate. She’s nervous and wants to please her new family, but when they start discussing rabbit stew she seizes the opportunity to grab her bow (part of her dowry) and race off on her horse to hunt.

A Bride’s Story would be plenty entertaining if it just showcased Mori’s research and charming illustrations, but she decides to introduce a note of suspense when it seems like Amir’s family has started to regret sending her off to marry Karluck. Amir gets an unexpected ally when the matriarch of the family (an enjoyable example of the kick-ass grandma character that often appears in manga) decides to defend the new bride. Karluck’s grandmother received a bow with her dowry too! With publishers going out of business and series going out of print or left unfinished, I’ve been feeling a little less enthused about manga lately. Reading A Bride’s Story has reminded me about the possibilities for storytelling unique to manga, and I’m happy to find a great new series to read.

Pick of the Week: A Bride’s Story & Others

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New manga from Kaoru Mori (unsurprisingly) steals the show at Midtown Comics this week, but check out our recommendations for additional picks as well!

KATE: A new Kaoru Mori manga is always cause for celebration, so I’m getting this week’s party started by recommending A Bride’s Story, which debuts on Wednesday. Like Emma and Shirley,A Bride’s Story is as much about the historical period — its customs, its social hierarchies, its clothing — as it about the characters. In this case, the setting is the Silk Road in the nineteenth century, and the characters are Amir, a twenty-year-oldwoman, and Karluk, her twelve-year-old husband. Their union is one of political expedience, but their growing respect for one another suggests that their marriage has the potential to evolve. Not a whole lot happens in the first volume, but the artwork is lovely, and the gently meandering storylines allow us to see just how capable and complex Amir really is. I’m already pining for volume two!

MICHELLE: I’m keen to read A Bride’s Story myself, but my pick this week goes to the second volume of Natsume Ando’s Arisa, back from a long hiatus as publishing rights shifted from Del Rey to Kodansha Comics. Volume one served up delicious shoujo creepiness as a tough girl named Tsubasa disguised herself as her more refined twin to figure out what in her school life caused her to attempt suicide, and ended just as she was on the verge of discovering the identity of “the King,” a mysterious person with the ability to grant any wish. Not only is the series back, it’s also on a bimonthly schedule from this point on.

DAVID: I’m going to have to second Kate’s pick of A Bride’s Story. I’m such a fan of Mori’s Emma that it would seem treasonous to do otherwise. (Though I’m also very much looking forward to Arisa.)

MJ: You can add me to the list of Manga Bookshelf-ers eagerly anticipating A Bride’s Story, but I’ll also take this opportunity to give a shout-out to one of my favorite shoujo series, Peach Pit’s Shugo Chara!. Kodansha Comics brings out volume 10 this week, following its long run with Del Rey Manga, and I can’t wait to pick it up! I’ve written a lot about this series (including a heartfelt plea for lowering its age rating) much of which can be accessed via my Shugo Chara! Evangelism post. After all that, can I pass up the chance to recommend it one more time? I think not!

Amazon.com Widgets

Readers, what looks good to you this week?

MMF: Ten things I love about Cross Game

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I’ve already spilled so much cyber ink on Mitsuru Adachi’s Cross Game (Viz), and I’m sure I’ll continue to do so. Quite simply, it’s one of the finest shônen series I’ve ever read. Heck, it’s of the best comics of any category that I’ve read. Here are ten reasons why I feel that way:

It’s less about baseball than the people who play it. One of the first questions that always arise when a sports manga is published in English is whether or not a reader needs to be interested in the sport in question to appreciate the manga. In the case of Cross Game, fondness for the sport isn’t necessary, and I say that from a place of profound disinterest in our putative national sport. Here’s the thing, as I see it: a creator or creators can tell an interesting story about any subject, no matter how removed from my personal interests, if they approach the material with intelligence and restraint and populate the telling with compelling, complex characters. The cast of Cross Game is undeniably dedicated to baseball, but they’re also invested in their interpersonal relationships with friends and family. Protagonist Ko Kitamura wants to succeed in the sport, but his reasons are specific and deeply personal. Aoba Tsukishima wants to excel in baseball as well, but her efforts are nicely tinged with ambivalence over the limitations a girl faces in that endeavor. They don’t live in a baseball-centric vacuum where nothing else matters. It’s not about baseball; it’s about the ways baseball intersects with characters’ deeper lives.

The pacing is often surprising. One of the first things that struck me about Adachi is the fact that he seems very unconcerned with the kind of traditional, beat-by-beat storytelling that you sometimes find in shônen manga. He can certainly spend chapters examining the progress of a single baseball game, but that progress is layered with so much more than stats and stunts. A good half of the second collection features Ko’s team of second-stringers challenging the coach’s chosen squad. It’s got the kind of narrative weight you’d expect, what with the underdogs stepping up and trying to prove their worth, but there are plenty of unexpected undercurrents. Adachi uses the game to explore the sometimes unsavory politics of team sports. He also uses a perfectly delightful and unexpected narrative device, as Aoba and a mysterious old man watch the game together, immediately establish a rapport, and evaluate the progress with a full and understated grasp of the other’s emotional and personal subtext. The game is fine, but the framing is better, and Adachi entirely skims over what other artists might consider pivotal moments to be documented from every angle and articulated in exhaustive, exhausting detail.

Adachi trusts the intelligence of his readers. Part of the peril of sports manga is that aforementioned exhausting detail, so it’s refreshing to see that Adachi doesn’t fall into that trap. He’s figured out the exact formula for how much exposition his readers will need to understand what’s going on, which means he doesn’t need to resort to the trick of pervasive narration drowning the actual action. He can show instead of tell, which is a disappointingly rare ability in a field that should rely so heavily on showing. Part of it might be confidence, but I think a more significant element is trust in the fact that readers care enough about the characters to remember their motivations and intuit how they drive their behaviors. Clear and persuasive motivations obviate the need for middle-distance monologues about what’s about to or has just happened.

The digressions are as appealing as the primary narrative. Cross Game is one of those titles that fully cohere in spite of seemingly disparate elements. Adachi can wander away from the baseball to pursue side stories and character moments that support the narrative as a whole. Quirky day-in-the-life chapters are charming in their own right and provide a change of pace, but they also give readers a wider view of the characters, which makes them even more likable.

The dialogue is understated. I’d never argue that this is an immovable requirement of good storytelling. I would even concede that the aforementioned middle-distance monologues can make some manga better. Look at the searing, hyper-expressed inner passions of the characters in Kyoko Ariyoshi’s Swan (CMX). All the same, it’s a pleasure to see a more oblique approach. As with Natsuki Takaya’s Fruits Basket (Tokyopop), characters in Cross Game are much more likely to allude to past events than to fully restate them. It’s more in line with the way people actually speak, in fragments and phrases that the people who know them will understand, and those people include readers.

It can be very funny. The humor in Cross Game, like everything else, derives largely from who the characters are. The most aggressively comic character, Senda, is actually funny, which isn’t always a given. This egotistical dork is the type who really can’t accurately assess his own strengths and weaknesses, and Adachi takes at least a little delight in humiliating him. Senda isn’t mocked without at least a degree of fondness, though. Aoba is funny in a subtler way; her set-jaw certainty and pragmatism are amusing in contrast to some of the space cases around her, and Adachi lets her be wrong without scolding her.

It can be very sad. Of course, the thing Aoba is wrong about most often is Ko, but she can hardly be blamed. Early in the series, they share a very specific, very real loss, and it informs their young adulthood in ways that are both mournful and somewhat uplifting. Aoba and Ko have the same pole star, relying on their memories of this person to influence their actions in what they think are positive ways. Of course, those memories also form obstacles between Aoba and Ko, in spite and because of the things they have in common. It isn’t unusual for a shônen tale to have a driving, underlying tragedy, but it’s rare for it to be as grounded and effectively applied as it is here. The notes of sorrow pop up at unexpected but entirely credible moments, and they make the palette of the piece richer.

Adachi brings the mono no aware. It’s that juxtaposition of sorry and comedy blended with wistfulness and self-awareness that categorizes the concept of mono no aware, or “the pity of things,” for me. The characters here are very much invested in the moment, but they’re also cognizant of how fleeting that moment can be. Past, present and future all intersect to influence the characters’ feelings, making them feel truer and more pungent. If there’s a quality that makes me really invest in a story, particularly in a comic from Japan, it’s mono no aware.

It looks great. Adachi’s art has all of the individual elements that combine to form an attractive book – appealing character design, a facility for rendering people and objects in motion, sly comedic styling, and so on. What strikes me most are the page compositions, which often use a series of small, rigid panels to create a more sinuous whole. That style can be applied to the wide spectrum of tones Adachi routinely incorporates into his story. It’s more than good panel-by-panel drawing; it’s effective staging of those panels into something larger.

There’s an adorable cat. Okay, the cat isn’t central to the narrative, and its appearances are more like Easter eggs – little flashes of cuteness that occasionally pop up. But Adachi draws the cat very well, and he’s restrained in his use of the furry little critter. It adds a nice little touch to the Tsukishima household, making it feel slightly more real than it already does. And, let’s face it, the presence of an adorable cat always makes manga better. See also: Shampoo in Kiyoko Arai’s Beauty Pop (Viz).

So there are the ten reasons I love Cross Game. They’re also the reasons I’m so eager to read more of Adachi’s work. I look forward to seeing other people’s reaction to the series as the current Manga Moveable Feast (hosted by The Panelists) progresses.

 

Bookshelf Briefs 5/22/11

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This week, MJ, Kate, David, & Michelle take a look at a slew of manga from Viz Media and one lonely manhwa from Yen Press.

13th Boy, Vol. 7 | By Sangeun Lee | Yen Press – There are few currently-running romance series I find as charming as Sangeun Lee’s 13th Boy, and exactly none can match it in sheer whimsy. Volume seven’s main drama revolves around sometimes-talking-cactus Beatrice who, in the midst of some serious heartache, reverts to his human form off-schedule without any sign of turning back, placing him smack in the middle of Hee-So’s newfound romance without a comfortable pot to retreat to. It’s an absurd situation, obviously, but though the series’ author doesn’t try to deny that fact, the emotional drama created for the story’s main characters is utterly serious. Lee’s sense of humor never sinks to self-concious eye-rolling, even in its most outrageous moments. It doesn’t hurt that I kinda ‘ship the story’s heroine with the cactus. What can I say? Still recommended. -MJ

Afterschool Charisma, Vol. 3 | By Kumiko Suekane | Viz Media – After two volumes of build-up and teasing, Kumiko Suekane finally offers readers a reward for their patience: not only does stuff blow up in volume three, but Suekane drops a nasty little surprise in one of her characters’ laps, forcing him to question his very identity as a clone. Good as volume three may be, pacing remains an issue; every time Suekane stages a bit of comic relief, the series’ creepy, unsettling vibe dissipates in a cloud of fanservice and lame historical jokes. Still, Afterschool Charisma gathers enough momentum in these chapters to overcome its narrative weaknesses, ending on a cliffhanger that’s sure to please fans. And really, what’s not to like about a manga that portrays Freud and Mozart as petulant bishies, or Rasputin as the class bad boy? -Katherine Dacey

Detroit Metal City, Vol. 9 | By Kiminori Wakasugi | Viz Media – As I struggle to come up with a summary for this volume that might distinguish it from those before, I think it may be time to admit that I’ve reached my limit with this series. I’ve been a fan since the beginning, but as is the case with so many gag manga, Detroit Metal City has worn out its gag. Yes, Negishi still wants to be a Swedish pop star, and yes, he still reverts to his death metal alter-ego whenever things (inevitably) do not go right in his sweet, cheese-tart-filled life. Though it was once interesting (and certainly hilarious) to ponder on Negishi’s real personality, the question has long outlived its potential for fascination, and even the best jokes are beginning to wear thin. Detroit Metal City, it was good to know you. But all things must pass. -MJ

Gente, Vol. 3 | By Natsume Ono | Viz Media – Is this the best Ono title available in English? Heavens, no. Did I enjoy it a great deal? Certainly. This volume is even more of a collection of casually related shorts than the previous two, but they’re good shorts with a gracious nature and a warm sense of humor. Ono takes closer looks at the lives of the distinguished staff of the Ristorante Casetta Dell’Orso. We see one man’s life before he took up the work of a waiter, and it’s an intriguing surprise. A married couple, regulars at the restaurant, brings their marital strife to the dining room, sparking a lot of gossip and some intriguing revelations. There’s family, friendship, romance, and food, and there are many worse ways to spend a sunny afternoon than in the company of Ono’s cast. Should you also be reading House of Five Leaves? Clearly. -David Welsh

Saturn Apartments, Vol. 3 | By Hisaw Iwaoka | Viz Media – The third volume of Saturn Apartments serves a hearty slice of sometimes disheartening, sometimes uplifting, and sometimes downright mysterious life. It seems that everyone besides the members of the window washers guild themselves think it’s a wretched occupation, and Mitsu refuses several job offers from wealth clients before ultimately being able to prove the importance of his job to a former classmate. Meanwhile, underemployed engineer Sohta begins work designing a craft with the capability to descend to Earth and thinks Mitsu might just be the perfect candidate to test it out someday. I’d say this volume is still about 90% episodic, but a 10% focus on an ongoing plot is a welcome change! -Michelle Smith

Vampire Knight, Vol. 12 | By Matsuri Hino | Viz Media – Volume twelve advances the narrative a full year ahead: Cross Academy is in shambles, Yuki’s uncle Rido is presumed dead, and Yuki is about to make her vampire society debut. The time jump is a wise decision, allowing Matsuri Hino to transition away from school-oriented plot lines while bringing different characters to the fore. As rewarding as it is to see villain Sara Shirabuki get a proper turn in the spotlight, however, Vampire Knight still suffers from a glaring problem: mediocre artwork. Hino lavishes so much attention on hairstyles and accessories that more basic design elements — background detail, panel flow, facial expressions — often feel like an afterthought. Though hardcore fans will be more focused on the relationships than on the art, readers with a more casual investment in the story may find the blandly undifferentiated character designs an impediment to following the story. -Katherine Dacey

Arisa 1 by Natsumi Ando

by

From the back cover:
Tsubasa thinks that her pretty and popular twin sister, Arisa, has the perfect life. Everyone at school loves Arisa—unlike the hot-tempered Tsubasa, whose nickname is “the Demon Princess.” But when Arisa attempts suicide, Tsubasa learns that her seemingly perfect sister has been keeping some dark secrets. Now Tsubasa is going undercover at school—disguised as Arisa—in search of the truth. But will Arisa’s secrets shatter Tsubasa’s life, too?

Review:
So, you’ve read After School Nightmare and are casting about for more creepy and suspenseful school-based shoujo to consume. Have I got the manga for you!

Despite their different surnames, Tsubasa Uehara and Arisa Sonoda are twin sisters who, due to split custody arising from their parents’ divorce, have not seen each other in person for three years. They’ve kept in contact via letters, however, and tomboyish Tsubasa has envied her sister’s seemingly perfect life, as conveyed by her letters. When Arisa proposes they meet, Tsubasa is overjoyed, and she also goes along with her sister’s suggestion to pose as Arisa for the following day at school. Everything seems to go so well—Arisa is popular, respected by classmates and teachers, and has a cute boyfriend—until the end of the day when Tsubasa discovers a cryptic card in her sister’s shoe locker. “Arisa Sonoda is a traitor.”

Arisa is surprised to hear that Tsubasa had fun, and after cryptically remarking, “You don’t know their secrets… or mine,” leans backward out of the open apartment window. Trees break her fall enough that she survives, but the accident leaves her in a coma. Tsubasa, determined to find out what’s going on, returns to Arisa’s school and soon discovers a weekly ritual known as “King Time,” during which the students submit a wish to some mysterious person, who grants one per week. On this particular occasion, a pervy gym teacher is made to disappear quite effectively. When a fellow classmate questions his fate, she too receives the “traitor” notice and is thereafter bullied and ostracized. Did Arisa raise similar objections and receive the same treatment?

Mangaka Natsumi Ando handles Tsubasa’s confusion expertly, as students (particularly Arisa’s best friend, Mariko) go from chipper to menacing in the blink of an eye. Whom can she trust? Manabe, the bad boy who attacked her with a 2×4 but who also expressed a desire to destroy “the King”? Midori, Arisa’s mild-mannered and considerate boyfriend? At least she has an ally in her friend Takeru, who does some investigation on her behalf. I like how the initially friendly mood of the class breaks down into genuine creepiness, and am really looking forward to seeing how the mystery progresses from here.

The first volume of Arisa was published in English by Del Rey, but Kodansha Comics took over beginning with the second volume, which was released last Tuesday. (I’m saving that one for Wednesday’s Off the Shelf column.) The series is still ongoing in Japan, where it is currently up to seven volumes.

Review copy provided by the publisher.