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License request day: Jin

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Anime News Network passed along the announcement of the manga nominees for the 15th Osamu Tezuka Cultural Prize. You all know what that means, right? We’ve struck a vein of license request ore! It’s an interesting and diverse slate, and I’m sure it will fuel future license requests, but there’s one title that has an unshakable grasp on my imagination and curiosity.

That would be Jin, written and illustrated by Motoka Murakami and serialized in Shueisha’s Super Jump for a total of 20 volumes. Any manga that launches with a modern-day doctor finding a carcinogenic fetus in a patient’s skull, followed by that fetus then sending said doctor back in time is a manga I want to read very, very badly.

It’s being published in French by Tonkam, which makes it much easier for me to figure out details about the book. I’m guessing that the fetus is just a MacGuffin to send our hero, 30-something doctor Jin Minakata, back to the Edo period. He adapts to his new/old world and begins applying his modern medical knowledge to bygone problems.

A cholera epidemic in Yokohama… communicable diseases among the courtesans of the red-light district… “discovering” penicillin centuries ahead of time… a geisha with breast cancer… If you want to be a busy doctor and seem like a miraculous genius whether you are one or not, it seems like all you have to do is go back in time. (How you get there is your own problem. My suggestion would be to randomly x-ray the skulls of your patients for mysterious fetuses. Of course, any fetus you find in someone’s skull is bound to count as “mysterious.”)

Judging by the sample pages from the first volume that Tonkam has shared, the art looks very clean, detailed, and attractive in a seinen sort of way that won’t be unfamiliar to fans of creators like Jiro Taniguchi. And while it’s perhaps a little soon after asking for Zipang to dip into the well of rewritten history, I think Jin sounds different enough in era and focus that they wouldn’t cannibalize each other’s audience, should we see a day when they’re simultaneously published in English.

So that’s my first choice from the current Tezuka nominees. I’ve only chosen one cover image, because they’re all pretty similar, featuring a strangely blank Jin standing with a beautiful woman. I used to work at a local newspaper, and so many submitted wedding photos looked kind of like these covers, with the woman actively engaging the camera and the man staring out of the frame at something shiny.

Which of the Tezuka nominees would you most like to see licensed?

3 Things Thursday: TOKYOPOP

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It’s been a rough week in the blogosphere for TOKYOPOP, whose latest round of layoffs has inspired quite a bit of talk about the company’s less positive history, including this frank commentary from Brigid Alverson at Robot 6 and this ongoing round-up from Johanna Draper Carlson at Manga Worth Reading. My own history as a reader has been sketchy at times. Though TOKYOPOP’s titles have inspired some of my most passionate fangirling over the years, they’ve occasionally left me baffled, and some of their unfinished business has rendered me truly heartbroken.

For today’s 3 Things, let’s examine that a bit more closely.

3 faces of TOKYOPOP:

1. The Fangirling – From Paradise Kiss to Fruits Basket, from Tokyo Babylon to Wild Adapter, TOKYOPOP has offered up to me some of the most beloved series in my manga library. Read any of those linked reviews, and you’ll understand what I love about manga–that’s how well these series represent my personal feelings about the best of the medium, particularly when it comes to manga written and published for women and girls. Some of their newer shoujo acquisitions (like Demon Sacred and The Secret Notes of Lady Kanoko) look to be joining their ranks someday as well.

What can we expect now from a company whose owner has seemingly given up on books? It’s hard to say.

2. The Bafflement – Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m baffled why a series like KimiKiss (pictured to the right) was published, or even why it might be popular. A buxom teen removing her blouse on the cover is, I expect, money in the bank! What was baffling to me in particular about this release, was that it was apparently being marketed as shoujo, according to a little pamphlet I received along with one of the later volumes of Fruits Basket.

From my review summary at the time: “Kouchi and Mao have been friends since childhood, but now that they are in high school, Kouchi is depressed that he hasn’t managed to attract a girlfriend. Mao offers to help him become a “real stud” by teaching him how to be attractive to girls, beginning with lessons in kissing. The lessons start to get a bit steamy, especially after Mao is invited to sleep over with Kouchi’s little sister, resulting in a late-night tryst in Kouchi’s bed.” Sound like shoujo to you?

3. The Heartbreak – Everyone’s got their own tale of woe over a series that TOKYOPOP has canceled, but my broken heart belongs to Off*Beat, an almost finished series by OEL creator Jen Lee Quick. With just one volume remaining of its original 3-volume commission, fans like me were left to weep and weep, never knowing what finally happens to sweet Tory and his revealing obsession.

From my review: “Everything about this comic is a winner–the intriguing plot line, the wonderfully rich characters, the unique, expressive artwork, the subtle treatment of a gay teen’s sexual awakening that is refreshingly not played up or made “sexy” to please its female audience–and the fact that it languishes in cancellation limbo is honestly heartbreaking. This is a comic I would wholeheartedly recommend to anyone. It truly deserves to be read.” *snif*

So readers, what are your 3 faces of TOKYOPOP?

More Ono due from Viz

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Viz just sent out a press release detailing its new titles due in the second half of 2011, and I’m sure someone will post it in its entirety, but I’m single-minded in my interest in one title above all others:

TESORO · Rated ‘T’ for Teens · MSRP: $12.99 US / $14.99 CAN ·

Available November 2011

This is an engrossing manga treasure trove containing 14 charming stories about family, friends, couples and unexpected bonds. Written by Natsume Ono over ten years, here is the long-awaited collection of her early work, including numerous illustrations and previously unpublished stories!

As a reminder, if you’re lucky enough to attend this year’s Toronto Comic Arts Festival, you can meet Ono in person. And, if you can’t wait until November for a new Ono title from Viz, there’s always La Quinta Camera, due in July.

 

 

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: Qwan

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I have a bad habit of falling in love with commercially doomed series. Satsuma Gishiden was my first great disappointment: Dark Horse published three volumes of this manly-man samurai manga, only to put the series on ice in 2007. Duck Prince was another, with Ai Morinaga’s awesomely weird comedy getting the axe midway through its run, a victim of CPM’s perpetual cash flow problems. But the cancellation that really broke my heart was Qwan, a fantasy-adventure that drew heavily on Chinese history and folklore for its inspiration. Between 2005 and 2007, Tokyopop released four volumes before putting the series on hiatus, leaving Qwan‘s few die-hard fans stranded in the middle of a crucial story arc.

While I’d be the first to admit that reading an unfinished story can be an exercise in frustration, I’m going to recommend Qwan anyway because the four volumes that were published are awesome — Scout’s honor.

The story focuses on Qwan, a child-like figure whose naivete and enthusiasm belie super-human strength and speed. Though Qwan realizes he isn’t human, he’s never questioned his origins or abilities — that is, until he meets Shaga, a courtesan who urges him to seek the Essential Arts of Peace, a sutra that will reveal where Qwan came from and why he was sent to live among humans. He’s not the only one who wants the sutra, however; various political factions vie for the scrolls, hoping to unlock the scrolls’ power and hasten the Han Dynasty’s demise.

Questing boys and magical scrolls are de rigeur in fantasy-adventure stories, but Qwan distinguishes itself in two crucial areas. The first is well-rounded characters. Qwan isn’t a classic Shonen Jump hero, kind-hearted and dedicated to self-improvement, but a more ambiguous figure; he’s guileless and self-centered in the manner of a nine- or ten-year-old, unable to feel genuine sympathy for others. Early in volume one, for example, Qwan encounters a mysterious girl traveling in the company of a demon. Daki proves more a formidable opponent than Qwan anticipates, successfully countering his attack with powerful insect magic. Though it’s clear to the reader that Daki, like Qwan, is a supernatural being, caught between the human and demon worlds, Qwan himself never sees the parallels between their situations, repeatedly attacking Daki until he resigns himself to the futility of his efforts.

The second distinguishing feature of Qwan is Aki Shimizu’s gorgeous artwork, which draws on anime, guo hua (classical Chinese painting), and wuxia films for its aesthetic. Though Shimizu usually blends these different styles into a seamless whole, she occasionally makes explicit, almost self-conscious quotations of her influences. In this panel, which appears in the very first chapter, she gracefully echoes the undulating lines and shapes of Chinese landscape paintings, even adding a delicately stylized pine tree in the foreground:

Her fight scenes, too, are steeped in Chinese influences. Using dramatic angles, she makes her characters look as weightless as the wire-fu acrobats in Curse of the Golden Flower and House of Flying Daggers; her fight scenes are balletic, beautifully choreographed sequences of tumbling bodies and arcing swords. In this sequence, for example, Qwan goes mano-a-mano with a tiger demon, eventually gaining the upper hand by vaulting onto the monster’s back:

Qwan then consumes the demon at the end of their protracted battle, the demon’s body dissolving into an inky swirl:

Oh, and Shimizu draws some pretty nifty monsters, too. This one suggests a Maltese-water buffalo hybrid with prehensile toes:

So why wasn’t Qwan a bigger hit? I think narrative complexity was a factor. Though the story is a rich tapestry of political history and myth, Shimizu refuses to spoon feed information to the reader; we’re just as confused and disoriented as Qwan himself is. That kind of reading experience can be quite rewarding, but the absence of an omniscient narrator demands more of the audience, forcing us to pore over the text and make connections on our own. Shimizu’s artwork and characterizations are up to the task, but impatient readers will easily miss crucial details in their haste to get to the fight scenes.

I also think timing was a factor in Qwan’s cancellation, as Qwan‘s fourth volume appeared in 2007 at the height of the manga boom. If you remember that heady period, publishers were releasing more than 1,200 new volumes of manga per year. Titles that didn’t have an obvious hook — say, a popular anime adaptation or a cast of hot male vampires — faced an uphill battle, with bookstores unwilling to stock series whose first or second volumes sold poorly. With little support from the publisher, and few fans blogging about it, Qwan was all but consigned to the remainder bin.

I’m under no illusion that my paean to Qwan will save it from licensing purgatory; for every Yotsuba&!, there are two Tactics, manga that didn’t gain much traction even after a well-publicized rescue. But Qwan is so good that I can’t help but wish that someone will complete the series. It’s a manga for people who love great stories and vivid characters, who care more about the quality of the storytelling than the coolness of the concepts and costumes.

QWAN, VOLS. 1-4 • BY AKI SHIMIZU • TOKYOPOP • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: Qwan

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I have a bad habit of falling in love with commercially doomed series. Satsuma Gishiden, for one: Dark Horse published the first three volumes of this manly-man samurai manga, only to put the series on ice in 2007. Duck Prince, for another: Ai Morinaga’s awesomely weird comedy also bit the dust three volumes into its run, a victim of CPM’s perpetual cash flow problems.

I’m dedicating today’s column to another lost cause: Qwan, a fantasy-adventure that draws heavily on Chinese history and folklore for its inspiration. Between 2005 and 2007, Tokyopop released four volumes of what would eventually be a seven-volume series in Japan. After the English-language edition caught up with the Japanese, Qwan went on hiatus. The series never resumed production, however, leaving its few ardent fans stranded in the middle of a crucial story arc.

Normally, I shy away from recommending incomplete series; there’s nothing quite as frustrating as beginning a manga with the knowledge that you will never, ever know how the story ends. I’m going to recommend Qwan anyway, because the four volumes that were published are awesome — Scout’s honor.

The story focuses on Qwan, a child-like figure whose naivete and enthusiasm belie super-human strength and speed. Though Qwan realizes he isn’t human, he’s never questioned his origins or abilities — that is, until he meets Shaga, a courtesan who urges him to seek the Essential Arts of Peace, a sutra that will reveal where Qwan came from and why he was sent to live among humans. He’s not the only one who wants the sutra, however; various political factions vie for the scrolls, hoping to unlock the scrolls’ power and hasten the Han Dynasty’s demise.

Questing boys and magical scrolls are de rigeur in fantasy-adventure stories, but Qwan distinguishes itself in two crucial areas. The first: well-rounded characters. Qwan isn’t a classic Shonen Jump hero, kind-hearted and dedicated to self-improvement, but a more ambiguous figure; he’s guileless and self-centered in the manner of a nine- or ten-year-old, unable to feel genuine sympathy for others. Early in volume one, for example, Qwan encounters a mysterious girl traveling in the company of a demon. Daki proves more a formidable opponent than Qwan anticipates, successfully countering his attack with powerful insect magic. Though it’s clear to the reader that Daki, like Qwan, is a supernatural being, caught between the human and demon worlds, Qwan himself never sees the parallels between their situations, repeatedly attacking Daki until he resigns himself to the futility of his efforts.

The second distinguishing feature of Qwan is Aki Shimizu’s gorgeous artwork, which draws on anime, guo hua (classical Chinese painting), and wuxia films for its aesthetic. Though Shimizu usually blends these different styles into a seamless whole, she occasionally makes explicit, almost self-conscious quotations of her influences. In this panel, which appears in the very first chapter, she gracefully echoes the undulating lines and shapes of Chinese landscape paintings, even adding a delicately stylized pine tree in the foreground:

Her fight scenes, too, are steeped in Chinese influences. Using dramatic angles, she makes her characters look as weightless as the wire-fu acrobats in Curse of the Golden Flower and House of Flying Daggers; her fight scenes verge on ballet, beautifully choreographed sequences of tumbling bodies and arcing swords. In this sequence, for example, Qwan goes mano-a-mano with a tiger demon, eventually gaining the upper hand by vaulting onto the monster’s back:

Qwan then consumes the demon at the end of their protracted battle, the demon’s body dissolving into an inky swirl:

Oh, and Shimizu draws some pretty nifty monsters, too. This one suggests a Maltese-water buffalo hybrid with prehensile toes:

So why wasn’t Qwan a bigger hit? I think narrative complexity was a factor. Though the story is a rich tapestry of political history and myth, Shimizu refuses to spoon feed information to the reader; we’re just as confused and disoriented as Qwan himself is. That kind of reading experience can be quite rewarding, but the absence of an omniscient narrator demands more of the audience, forcing us to pore over the text and make connections on our own. Shimizu’s artwork and characterizations are up to the task, but impatient readers will easily miss crucial details in their haste to get to the fight scenes.

I also think timing was a factor: Qwan‘s fourth volume appeared in 2007, at the height of the manga boom. If you remember that heady period, publishers were releasing more than 1,200 new volumes of manga per year. Titles that didn’t have an obvious hook — say, a popular anime adaptation or a cast of hot male vampires — faced an uphill battle, with bookstores unwilling to continue stocking series whose first or second volumes sold poorly. With little support from the publisher, and few fans blogging about it, Qwan was all but consigned to the remainder bin.

I’m under no illusion that my paean to Qwan will save it from licensing purgatory; for every Yotsuba&!, there are two Tactics, manga that didn’t gain much traction even after a well-publicized rescue. But Qwan is so good that I can’t help but wish that someone will complete the series — perhaps in a digital-only format, or print-on-demand, or an author-sanctioned scanlation. It’s a manga for readers — for people who love great stories and vivid characters, who care more about the quality of the storytelling than the coolness of the concepts and costumes.

QWAN, VOLS. 1-4 • BY AKI SHIMIZU • TOKYOPOP • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

From the stack: Kimi ni Todoke vol. 5

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My recent brush with Bakuman (Viz) helped me realize something (probably after everyone else already got there) about Karuho Shiina’s Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You (also Viz). Shiina is deconstructing shôjo manga as surely as Ohba and Obata are dissecting shônen. Of course, Shiina is telling a proper story with engaging characters at the same time, so she wins.

This became blazingly evident in the fifth volume. It begins with our heroine, socially inept Sawako, deep in conversation with Kurumi, who likes the same boy Sawako does and is trying to manipulate Sawako into stepping aside. In spite of her almost complete innocence in matters interpersonal, Sawako is incredibly hard to manipulate, and she’s just so damned nice. Kurumi is infuriated, at least partly because some part of her recognizes that Sawako is possibly more worthy of kindly Kazehaya’s affection than Kurumi is.

This isn’t an uncommon emotional beat for shôjo manga, but it rarely gets the degree of articulation it receives here. Kurumi must not only admit her resentment of Sawako, she must also explain to this foreign exchange student from Mars exactly why she resents her. And while the experience provides some kind of catharsis for the duplicitous Kurumi, it doesn’t entirely soften her feelings for Sawako. It does clarify them, for both Kurumi and Sawako, and they culminate in a glorious moment when Kurumi, pretense abandoned, beams at Sawako and declares them rivals.

It’s not just Kurumi being argumentative. It’s Kurumi being generous, helping Sawako understand. And it’s Kurumi liberating herself from a stifling public persona. Most of all, it’s Shiina celebrating the construct, the pairing of people who want the same limited resource (a title, a prize, a love interest) who both understand the other’s desire and respect their right to want it but realize that their ultimate happiness is mutually exclusive.

This is what I mean by deconstruction. Most mangaka would just go through the beats of this realization without underlining it so baldly, but the baldness is what makes Shiina’s approach soar. It’s like you’re Sawako, discovering all of these new things, except you already knew them, and yet the rediscovery is as thrilling as the first time you grasped them.

There’s lots of other stuff that happens in this volume, and all of it is charming and good, because Shiina wrote and drew it. But the definition of rivalry, old as shôjo and fresh as now, is the kind of emotional peak that represents the best of this excellent series. Bakuman is most intriguing as an instruction manual, and it’s savvy (but joyless) about what works in a certain type of manga. Kimi ni Todoke both defines and celebrates its own category’s building blocks.

 

Off the Shelf: Billionaires, Babies, & Brides!

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Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with MJ & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

MICHELLE: After spending last week’s column discussing the grim misanthropy of Osamu Tezuka’s Ayako, MJand I decided to go a more frivolous route this time. The idea was actually mine, inspired by a list of new Harlequin titles available on eManga.com. Upon perusing said list, I noticed a pattern. See if you can spot it, too!

Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!
A Date with a Billionaire
Claiming His Pregnant Wife
Royally Bedded, Regally Wedded
Powerful Persuasion
The Millionaire’s Pregnant Mistress
Pilgrim’s Castle
The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress
Lovechild

Out of nine titles, three reference pregnancy, three mention weddings or marriages, and two mention billionaires! One mentions a millionaire, but obviously that guy is just not trying hard enough.

Neither one of us was willing to relinquish our claim to the first title on the list, so we both read that one as well as a second choice. (Mine comes from a second, more recent list, which has fewer billionaires but more brides.)

How did you enjoy your foray into romance, MJ?

MJ: Well, Michelle, first off I have to say I was a little disappointed that my first pick, which was listed originally as The Billionaire‘s Boss’s Forbidden Mistress contained a typo, because I was pretty interested in finding out just who the billionaire actually was in a story that was apparently all about his boss’s forbidden mistress. Alas, the mistress indeed belongs to the billionaire, though I’m not sure what makes her forbidden.

Two years ago, Leah was in a car accident that cost her two things, her mother and her husband’s love. Her mother died in the accident, as one might assume, but her husband, the bastard, was driven away by a new scar on Leah’s leg. When a young billionaire, Jason Pollack, buys the company Leah works for, she’s intrigued by him, but too embarrassed by her scar to give in to her feelings. Jason is a widower, still in love with his late wife, but attracted by Leah’s beauty. In the end, the two of them enter into an affair, Leah because she’s just so happy that any man wants her with her scar, and Jason because… well, he just thinks she’s hot. Both claim to be uninterested in love, but what happens when their feelings change?

Though someone could certainly write a really touching romance with these characters–a woman whose self-esteem has been destroyed and a man looking for solace after the death of his wife–author Milanda Lee has not done so, or at least it’s nowhere evident in Megumi Toda’s adaptation. Like much of the Harlequin manga I’ve read, nothing’s given enough time to feel actually real, and as a result, the romance falls flat. Both Leah and Jason’s traumas are too quickly dismissed to gain any kind of traction, rendering the whole thing too sloppy and shallow to be genuinely enjoyed.

MICHELLE: I think a story all about a billionaire obsessed with his boss’s (a trillionaire?) mistress would probably be more interesting than the story you describe. It seems to be a trend that the wrong guy for the heroine in these romances can’t just be a decent person with whom things don’t work out for subtle reasons; he has to be as shitty as possible, like a husband who ditches his wife because of a frickin’ scar.

MJ: Right?? And it’s not like that part isn’t, y’know, poignant, but then when the heroine gets into a loveless relationship just because she’s been so broken by that first, wrong guy, I’d like to see a little more impact. If you’re gonna go for that kind of over-the-top drama, at least use it.

I realize that one of the hardest things to do as a writer is to make a whirlwind romance feel genuine. It’s one of those things that, done well, is plainly exhilarating to read. Unfortunately, if it’s not done well, it just feels empty and not at all romantic.

So, how did you fare with your pick?

MICHELLE: Ai Yazawa could give her lessons on the dramatic potential of choosing the wrong guy! As for my pick, I fared a little better than you did, though I’ve got some of the same complaints.

I had originally intended to read Claiming His Pregnant Wife, but when a second round of Harlequin offerings appeared, containing a book entitled Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows, I ditched my first choice faster than a chick with a scar. (By the way, I told my husband about the husband in your book and his response was, “What a hosebag!”)

Ashley Bennet, the daughter of a rich oil tycoon, never received love from her father and stepmom. Rather than object when her father proposes an arranged marriage, Ashley is bowled over to have someone actually telling her he loves her. Too bad she catches him boffing someone else on their wedding day. She runs off and ends up drunk in a bar, where she meets an earnest cowboy named Ryder McCall. They enjoy a one-night stand and Ashley goes off to be a waitress in a diner.

Ryder, however, is convinced that he loves her and tracks her down. Ashley is dubious, because Ryder is acting like a presumptuous fool, but then reveals she is pregnant. In Harlequin romances, guys are always happy about this. “Yes! This is awesome!” cries Ryder. Ashley’s not on the marriage bandwagon, but eventually takes an accounting job at the McCall farm. Through proximity to Ryder and silly scenes like watching him be kind to a lost kid in a store for, like, two pages, Ashley decides she loves him. Martin the ex-fiancé returns and expresses a desire to get back together (and also informs Ashley that she’ll be having an abortion), but Ryder punches him. Yay! Now they are in the love.

Seriously, this really tries to be good. Ashley is not a wilting flower, which I appreciate, and there are some attempts at humor. Its biggest flaw is, like you mention, everything just happens too fast to feel genuine! I’m a very slow reader, and when I can blow through a story in twenty minutes, then you know it is pretty flufftastic material.

MJ: I do have to wonder if the original novels delve a little deeper, just because they have more time? I think part of the problem with these manga adaptations is that they almost feel more like summaries than stories. I mean, I assume if I went in and actually read Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows it would read almost exactly as your description did, without a lot more time taken at any particular point.

MICHELLE: Yeah, this is one where I actually have some interest in reading the original to see how it compares. You make a great point about my description being about as thorough as the book itself is, because that’s true. That scene where Ryder demonstrates his capability to be a good dad, for example, quite literally takes all of two pages. The end result is just too simplistic to be believable.

Should I take a stab at summarizing our tandem pick, Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!?

MJ: Oh, you know I love it when you summarize!

MICHELLE: I will do my best!

Two years ago, when famous Italian actor Mateo D’Arrezo was in England doing Shakespeare, he came across a local actress named Jennifer Wallen starring as Ophelia in a production of Hamlet. He was instantly smitten by her ability to refrain from being instantly smitten by him, and they start dating. Eventually they marry, even though her mother warns that all men are scum. The marriage does wonders for Jennifer’s career, but she’s no longer the wide-eyed girl Mateo originally fell in love with.

Busy schedules and a scheming manager keep them apart, and when a photo of Mateo kissing a co-star is published, Jennifer assumes the worst and initiates divorce proceedings. She still loves him, though, and when they run into each other while in Cannes to promote a film they made together, they end up getting it on in an elevator. Guess what happens next? If your answer is, “They make a showbiz baby,” award yourself a taco!

Mateo, of course, is delighted by this news. He’s being so sweet and solicitous that Jennifer learns to trust him again and even when the vengeful co-star claims to be pregnant herself, Jennifer’s faith in him remains firm. After a little bit of peril for the baby, they apologize to each other and admit their mistakes. The end.

MJ: Excellent summary, m’dear. So. Okay, here are a couple of my particular issues with this story. First, I find the amount of time Mateo spends defending his betrayal as “just a kiss” seriously laughable. I mean, come on. It’s only cheating if he sleeps with her? Making out with other women is totally kosher?

Secondly, what was up with totally dropping the ball on the scheming manager? They make all this fuss about how the guy is keeping Jennifer’s calls from getting through, but then… nothing happens. The manager’s not upset they’re back together. Mateo seems unconcerned that his staff has nearly ruined his marriage. The whole thing is just… dropped. What’s the point of inserting that kind of melodrama if you’re not even going to make anything of it? GIVE ME MRS. DANVERS OR GIVE ME DEATH. Or something like that. You get my point.

MICHELLE: I was sure there was going to be some explanation by which Mateo was not even responsible for the kiss, but at least that didn’t come to pass. And you’re totally right about the asshole manager. Mateo doesn’t even chew him out for his actions. This is the same guy who basically said that Jennifer neglected her husband (how dare she pursue her own career!) and should expect a little infidelity. What specific grudge he has against her isn’t mentioned and, in fact, he’s the one who takes Mateo to see her perform in the first place.

MJ: I have to think that the manager must be a little more deliciously evil in the novel. Or at least I’m going to go on pretending that’s the case, because overall, this story was a least a bit more solidly put together than The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress.

People should really be clear on this fact though: we fought over who would get to read this manga. That’s how excited we were over the title alone. I have to say, overall, it wasn’t worth the fight.

MICHELLE: Yeah. Now I regret all that hair-pulling I did. But this does lead to another point on which people should be clear, which is that although neither of us is really a Harlequin reader, we didn’t approach the endeavor with the intent to just make fun of Harlequin or anything. I always want to like whatever it is I’m reading, and I certainly didn’t hate these or anything; they were just disappointing.

MJ: Yes, that’s absolutely the case. I love romance, I really, really do, and I always want to like these when we decide to dig into them. I expect we haven’t quite given up on them yet!

MICHELLE: I expect you’re right. Maybe next time we should try ones with more staid titles, like Pilgrim’s Castle. Though probably it is light on actual pilgrims.

MJ: I suspect that’s actually a blessing.

MICHELLE: I don’t know; at least they probably wouldn’t be accepting pregnancy with a cavalier attitude!

MJ: Perhaps not, but I’d hate to see the outfits. And the dialogue? I think we’re better off in billionaire showbiz boss territory.

MICHELLE: Don’t forget the babies and brides!

Check out more Harlequin manga at eManga.com. And join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Mid-week must-reads

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I’ve pretty much given up on manga industry analysis as a pastime. I found it had started to taint the hobby for me. But I always enjoy sinking my teeth into a great piece of writing from this category. Today’s comes from Brigid (MangaBlog) Alverson over at Robot 6, in which she reacts to the recent round of layoffs at Tokyopop:

It’s just sad to see people who took their work seriously being treated so badly by a company that seems to put more value on a direct-to-Hulu reality series than on their core product, a solid line of manga that really did change the graphic novel market and the reading habits of millions of readers—myself included.

I would only add that, in my admittedly limited experience talking to industry figures, I can think of few professionals who were better equipped and more willing to be passionate advocates for good manga than Lillian Diaz-Pryzybl and Asako Suzuki. Any publisher possessing any sense at all would hire them at their absolute earliest convenience.

(Okay, I would also add that, in addition to being a passionate advocate for manga, Brigid is also one of its must astute, clear-eyed observers.)

Moving to a much more benign subject, another astute advocate, Erica (Okazu) Friedman, succumbs to my pestering and writes about what describes as “the fifth genre” of manga magazines in her latest column for The Hooded Utilitarian:

The pressure to conform to the four basic categories is industry-wide. The Japanese Magazine Publishers Association puts out circulation data for top selling manga magazines every year. These ratings are listed by; For girls, For boys, For men and For women. And yet, there is some leaking around the edges, as more alternative magazines seek out both male and female artists,  and male and female readers. These magazines focus less on who is buying and more on telling stories to people who want to read them.

A synonym for “fifth genre” might be “magazines with which David is unhealthily obsessed.”

 

Butterfly Volume 1

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I’m probably much harder to please with monster-hunting manga than any other subgenre. There’s just so much of it, it usually has to be both outstanding and irresistible to really catch my attention. Butterfly doesn’t really fit into this category for me, but there are a few things about it that make it quirky and potentially interesting. First of all, this series is actually seinen manga written by a woman. I have great fondness for other seinen by female authors like Soryo’s ES (Eternal Sabbath), so those publication details did make me more intrigued about the title. While this is a seinen series, it is set in high school with a male main character who is not all that great at school. Ginji refuses to write any career goals as he heads into his final months of school. His life is changed when he meets Ageha, an elementary school kid with glasses and long hair who promises to pay his debts if Ginji will work them off by doing some ghost busting.

Ginji hates the idea of ghost, but he’s haunted by an event that happened to his older brother. When Ageha suddenly appears before him, asking if he wants to “Go and kill…all the ghosts in the world together,” Ginji is extremely skeptical. He tags along on one of Ageha’s missions and finds out that the exorcisms he’s going to be involved in are a little different than he expects. It turns out that Ageha has the ability to manifest images of the things that haunt people, and Ginji has the ability to destroy them. So Ageha is effectively exorcising people’s worries and fears by giving them a form that Ginji battles with. Ageha and Ginji have complementary powers, but the way they work isn’t fully explained in the first volume. Ageha is a bit of a mysterious being as well, because while people tend to assume she’s a girl, others maintain that she’s a cross-dressing boy.

Aikawa’s art is clear and easy to follow during the action scenes, but lacks a unique style. I was fond of Ageha’s mannerisms, just because after reading The Secret Notes of Lady Kanako, I’m happy to see yet another glasses-wearing protagonist with social issues. While Butterfly didn’t totally win me over with the first volume I was intrigued by the idea that Ageha is manifesting people’s internal demons, and Ginji’s destruction of those illusions brings the afflicted some peace. I’m curious to see if some of the mysteries behind Ageha’s origin and the nature of the duo’s complementary powers are explored more in the next volume. I think that Butterfly would probably appeal most to older high school students and adults who want a slightly different spin on monster hunting manga.


Review copy provided by the publisher

New NANA Project, Vols. 17-18

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This entry will be brief as I’m convalescing with the flu, but here’s a quick link to the latest installment of The NANA Project, in which Danielle Leigh, Michelle Smith, and I discuss volumes 17 and 18 of Ai Yazawa’s NANA.

From Danielle’s introduction, “This month, MJ, Michelle and I return to discuss volumes 17 and 18 of NANA. Michelle decides she likes Miu, Danielle has a Yasu-epiphany, and MJtakes on Takumi and Reira’s dysfunctional relationship.”

Between this month’s Let’s Get Visual and the Project, I’ve had NANA on the brain lately, and so should you!

Come join us in comments to dish about Misato’s past, Shin’s arrest, and volume 18’s Takumi side-story!