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Off the Shelf: Boobalicious

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MICHELLE: Welcome to a rather… special edition of Off the Shelf! Before we launch into our selections today, I wanted to provide a little background. Y’see, although I genuinely love a very wide spectrum of manga, no matter the demographic to which it’s aimed, there’s still one genre from which I instinctively steer clear: the blatantly fanservicey. When two debut series, each putting its cover to boobalicious use, were released in the same month, I decided to challenge myself to read them, hoping that beneath the titillating exterior I’d find a good story that I would’ve otherwise missed.

MJ: Boobies!

MICHELLE: Er, yes. Anyway, I enlisted MJto participate in this experiment along with me, which brings us to this evening’s mammarian extravaganza.

How went your forays into fanservice?

MJ: Well, they were mixed, to be sure. I’ll start from the bottom (so to speak) and move up. My first ultra-servicey selection was Mario Kaneda’s Saving Life, published in English by TOKYOPOP.

Haruhiko is a rich high school kid who has left home to escape his father’s influence. Living on his own is tougher than Haruhiko imagined. He’s pretty lonely in his new digs, and has even filled the place up with scavenged (mostly broken) appliances just to make the place feel less empty. On top of that, money troubles send him scraping for part-time jobs and scrounging for change from his school’s vending machines. Fortunately, his two closest childhood friends, Yoriko and Nanako (who just happen to be totally boobalicious babes) are waiting to come to the rescue!

Haruhiko’s accident-prone and super-clumsy (unless he’s working), so much of the story so far consists of him accidentally falling into one (or both) of the girls, often while they’re nearly naked, and there’s always some kind of water-related incident coming into play just in time to ensure that the girls’ clothes get soaked through.

Obviously story was never the point here, and Kaneda barely tries. I have to give high marks to the boobs, though. While it’s established early on that Haruhiko is an ass man, Kaneda doesn’t skimp on the chest area in the slightest. They’re all on the large side (but not toooo large), and Kaneda brings them into focus pretty much whenever possible. The worst part of this series’ fanservice is its contrived human pile-ups and blushing-shy-girl cheesecake poses the female characters are constantly maneuvered into.

I assume that this series’ target audience knows what it’s getting into here. Unfortunately, despite its perfectly nice boobies, I can’t recommend it for anyone else.

MICHELLE: Your description reminds me of the the time I tried to read Negima!. Though I’ve heard it develops a plot later on, the first volume was almost entirely girls tripping and sprawling over the young protagonist or him accidentally walking into someone’s bountiful bosom.

You bring up a good point: characterization counts with boobalicious ladies! Badass ones, like Revy from Black Lagoon (as seen here) do not trouble me one bit, especially if it seems that they dress the way they do because they want to and not to catch some fella’s eye. Boobalicious girls who simper and are brainless, however, make steam come out of my ears.

MJ: What’s a little sad, is that both Yoriko and Nanako have some interesting character traits and they’re generally not weak. But they’re always weak when Kaneda is overtly sexing them up, which is pretty gross to me.

So what bountiful bosoms do you have to share tonight?

MICHELLE: Interestingly, both of my picks are disaster/survival stories, so they’ve got much more plot than Saving Life seems to have.

First up is Highschool of the Dead, by Daisuke and Shouji Sato, a fast-paced action movie sort of manga in which a sudden zombie outbreak at Fujimi High School is just the latest development in a more widespread epidemic. A few resourceful students manage to escape the carnage, after many scenes in which classmates maul and/or kill one another, and the volume ends with the small band poised to check on their families and gauge the condition of the rest of the town.

Does it matter that I haven’t given you any characters’ names? No, not really. You’ve got the hotheaded guy, the girl who was his childhood friend, a geeky dude, a smart girl, the cool and composed female kendo captain, et cetera. No one has any depth, and a few things don’t make much sense, but at least some of the girls are given the opportunity to be strong and useful.

It’s certainly not a great manga, but I enjoyed it well enough—about on par with how I enjoy Raiders, another zombie-related Yen Press title—to want to see what happens next. (Plus, it earns a few bonus points for what might have been a Shaun of the Dead reference.)

But oh, the boobs. They are hideous. I think Kate Dacey called them something like “distended lemons,” and there’s really no better way to put it. The ones on the cover are bad enough—that pose is impossible and her arm looks like it’s on backwards!—but worse lurk within. I have seen my share of bodacious boobs, but never any that were so huge that they had to extend beyond the panel’s border! Behold:

Those are not attractive bosoms. Those are head-scratchingly bizarre bosoms. How can one pay attention to a zombie uprising whenever these avocados of doom keep thrusting themselves in one’s face?

MJ: Well, heavens. You know, I was so distracted by the hilariously unnecessary panty shots when I read this manga, I somehow missed the strange, missile-shaped boobs entirely. Also, I’m quite taken with the phrase, “avocados of doom.”

MICHELLE: Oh god, yes. Even scenes that I wanted to like for their grim depiction of human nature—for example, a pair of girls whose eternal friendship lasts precisely as long as it takes one of them to fall into a zombie’s clutches—are marred by gratuitous panty shots. I really don’t get the appeal. I conducted an informal poll of two whole guys and neither of them found it sexy, either. They could’ve been dissembling, I suppose, but I doubt it.

MJ: That was really the saddest thing about this book, wasn’t it? There was some stuff to say, after all. It may not be the most original stuff–this ground has been covered pretty extensively in nearly every medium-but it was there. Still, it’s the fanservice that drives the series, which is just kinda… icky.

MICHELLE: Yeah. In the end, I’ll be back for volume two, but I won’t be expecting much.

I take it you liked your second selection more than the first.

MJ: I did in a way, though not for itself, actually. My second pick was volume one of Spice & Wolf, adapted by Keito Koume from Isuna Hasekura’s novels. Yen Press is publishing both concurrently, which on one hand is pretty cool, but on the other, really exposes the weaknesses of the adaptation.

Kraft Lawrence is a traveling merchant who, after encountering a village harvest festival in the midst of his travels, discovers that the village’s harvest “god” (a 600-year-old wolf-spirit named Holo, who appears as a teen girl with a wolf’s ears and tail) has stowed away on his wagon. Anxious to return to her northern homeland, Holo begs to join Kraft on his travels, and though he’s initially a bit wary, Kraft agrees. As it turns out, 600 years of observing mankind has given Holo a great sense for both business and human nature, so she’s pretty useful as a merchant’s companion. Unfortunately, with the church so much in power, her supernatural appearance poses a threat to her survival.

This premise sounds fascinating, and honestly it is. But wordy explanations of medieval economics don’t necessarily translate well into visual storytelling, and unfortunately that’s what happens here. While the series’ first novel is a pretty good read, especially for fantasy fans who are weary of the usual swords and magic stuff, the manga’s debut volume plods endlessly along, so unsuited to full visual treatment, the illustrations feel like they’re actually in the way of the story.

Furthermore, while Jyuu Ayakura’s original character designs offer just the slightest taste of fanservice–more than enough, in my view, when the lead female reads visually as a very young teen–the manga’s prolonged nude scenes end up feeling just creepy. Holo’s childlike, impish expressions may be cute when she’s conning another merchant, but coupled with color pages filled with nude poses, it’s another story indeed.

In the end, I’d recommend picking up the novels, but leaving the manga alone. With a title this popular, I’m sure there are plenty of Holo artbooks out there for those who require their sexy teen fix.

Unlike Saving Life, Spice & Wolf gives Holo the full bare-breasted treatment, and since even I feel creepy discussing this with a character who looks so young, I’ll refrain from attempting to rate them.

MICHELLE: I have seen the adjective “creepy” applied to Holo’s nude scenes before, which is why I have no intention of reading the manga adaptation of a light novel series with such a unique and interesting concept. This is another case where I just have to go, “Why?” Do you think it’s partly to compensate for the elements of the story that fail to translate well to a more visual medium?

MJ: Well, this may be an unfair assumption, but it seems to me like it’s just for the purpose of pleasing male fans who aren’t able to fantasize on their own with the prose.

MICHELLE: Could be, though I’m sure plenty of guys find this all creepy, too.

MJ: Well to be clear, I’m sure that lack of imagination doesn’t apply to all men. :)

So, what was your second boobalicious book?

MICHELLE: My second pick was the first volume of Lives, a new two-volume series from TOKYOPOP. Like Highschool of the Dead, it wastes little time getting to the disaster du jour—a rain of asteroids that appears to kill a few people who then, mysteriously, wake up unharmed in a jungle. It quickly becomes clear that all of the creatures there were at one point human and that many are unable to overcome the urges that compel them to attack and eat their fellow mancritters. There’s no explanation for this—unless you count the nude angel who descends to inform a schoolgirl she was perfectly right to eat her brother—and I’m a little concerned that there won’t ever be much of one, given that there’s only one more volume in the series and that this one spends far too many pages on a subplot about intra-dojo rivalry.

The fanservice is not quite as intrusive as in Highschool of the Dead, though there are still visuals like topless, disemboweled corpses that I could have done without. What bothers me more is the characterization of the women. The fact that the girl on the cover is wearing very little, for example, is less troubling than the fact that she looks completely dazed and vacant. Another female character is introduced as the most competent member of a sexy singing group, but she very quickly loses any cool points she might have possessed by blushingly making out with her skeevy manager about two minutes after her bandmates have been viciously slaughtered.

Scattered storytelling and weak women don’t do much to encourage me to keep reading, but since there is only one more volume I will probably be a completist and read it, even though I expect that it will be lame.

MJ: But what about the boobs, Michelle? You’re missing what’s really important here.

MICHELLE: They’re your standard big bazongas. Improbably huge and round and bouncy, but at least they won’t poke your eye out.

MJ: And so we give thanks for small blessings.

MICHELLE: Ha, yeah. Ultimately, I’m glad I didn’t let the fanservice keep me from reading these two books. Perhaps I fared better than you did in terms of my selections actually having plots—I still can’t picture myself reading an ecchi romantic comedy, really—but though they weren’t that good, they weren’t that bad, either.

MJ: Agreed. :)

Join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Toriko, Vol. 1

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Imagine, if you can, an extreme sports edition of Iron Chef, one in which the contestants have to catch and cook the show’s theme ingredient. That’s essentially what Toriko is: an over-the-top food manga in which a hunter and a chef find — and eat — the world’s rarest delicacies.

Toriko, the titular character, is a peculiar mix of id and super-ego. On the one hand, he’s pure instinct: he hunts with his nose, uses brute strength to overwhelm his opponents, and gobbles every meal with animalistic gusto. On the other, he’s a hunter-philosopher who disdains slaughter for sport; Toriko may wrestle six-armed gorillas into submission, but he only kills creatures for food.

His sidekick, Komatsu, is a small, nervous chef who plays Chester to Toriko’s Spike, twitching and talking up a storm whenever they embark on a new mission or face danger. Komatsu is initially assigned to supervise Toriko; Komatsu’s boss, head of the International Gourmet Organization (IGO), wants to make sure that Toriko successfully fulfills an order for garara gator, an eight-legged, bus-sized monster prized for its delicate meat. Though Komatsu spends most of their expedition screaming, cowering, and clinging to Toriko, Komatsu is moved by Toriko’s passion. “When I saw you on the hunt close up,” Komatsu tells Toriko, “I decided it’s worth risking my life to follow you.” He elaborates:

I want to understand where those ingredients come from and what they look like in their natural habitat. By the time the high-level prey are shipped to us, they’re already slaughtered and just pieces of meat.

I never thought I’d see a Shonen Jump character extol the value of slow foods, but that’s a big part of Toriko‘s appeal: the concept screams Ted Nugent, but the underlying philosophy says Michael Pollan. Toriko still barks like a shonen manga, of course, with lengthy fight scenes, colorful opponents, and jokes a-plenty. But there’s a more thoughtful dimension to the story than is warranted by the material; many of the characters’ soliloquies wouldn’t be out of place in Oishinbo or The Omnivore’s Dilemma, as Toriko and Komatsu wax poetic about the flavor and succulence of freshly-caught meat.

Toriko‘s other strength is the artwork; look past that god-awful cover, and what you’ll find is some excellent cartooning. The monsters are fierce and slightly repulsive but plausibly edible, while the humans run the gamut from ridiculously virile — Toriko looks like a youthful Sylvester Stallone — to thoroughly decadent — the IGO’s Bureau Chief wears a leisure suit, aviator shades, and an ill-advised shag. Artist Mitsutoshi Shimabukaro renders each setting with enough detail to make it feel like a distinctive habitat; his mangrove swamp, where the garara gator lives, looks just pre-historic enough to harbor a pterodactyl or two. Not all of the visual gambits work: Toriko lives in a candy house, for example, a choice that seems out of character for a manly meat-eater, while a rainbow fruit tree falls flat in grayscale. Shimabukaro never belabors a sight gag, however, nimbly moving to the next set-piece before the failures even register.

I’d be the first to admit that Toriko won’t be every locavore’s idea of fun. I nearly lost my appetite watching Toriko lay waste to an entire banquet’s worth of food, and found some of the hunting scenes too protracted. If you’ve got a hearty constitution and a deep, abiding love of cooking competitions, however, this macho food-fest might just tickle your taste buds.

TORIKO, VOL. 1 • BY MITSUTOSHI SHIMABUKARO • VIZ MEDIA • 207 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Toriko, Vol. 1

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Imagine, if you can, an extreme sports edition of Iron Chef, one in which the contestants have to catch and cook the show’s theme ingredient. That’s essentially what Toriko is: an over-the-top food manga in which a hunter and a chef find — and eat — the world’s rarest delicacies.

Toriko, the titular character, is a peculiar mix of id and super-ego. On the one hand, he’s pure instinct: he hunts with his nose, uses brute strength to overwhelm his opponents, and gobbles every meal with animalistic gusto. On the other, he’s a hunter-philosopher who disdains slaughter for sport; Toriko may wrestle six-armed gorillas into submission, but he only kills creatures for food.

His sidekick, Komatsu, is a small, nervous chef who plays Chester to Toriko’s Spike, twitching and talking up a storm whenever they embark on a new mission or face danger. Komatsu is initially assigned to supervise Toriko; Komatsu’s boss, head of the International Gourmet Organization (IGO), wants to make sure that Toriko successfully fulfills an order for garara gator, an eight-legged, bus-sized monster prized for its delicate meat. Though Komatsu spends most of their expedition screaming, cowering, and clinging to Toriko, Komatsu is moved by Toriko’s passion. “When I saw you on the hunt close up,” Komatsu tells Toriko, “I decided it’s worth risking my life to follow you.” He elaborates:

I want to understand where those ingredients come from and what they look like in their natural habitat. By the time the high-level prey are shipped to us, they’re already slaughtered and just pieces of meat.

I never thought I’d see a Shonen Jump character extol the value of slow foods, but that’s a big part of Toriko‘s appeal: the concept screams Ted Nugent, but the underlying philosophy says Michael Pollan. Toriko still barks like a shonen manga, of course, with lengthy fight scenes, colorful opponents, and jokes a-plenty. But there’s a more thoughtful dimension to the story than is warranted by the material; many of the characters’ soliloquies wouldn’t be out of place in Oishinbo or The Omnivore’s Dilemma, as Toriko and Komatsu wax poetic about the flavor and succulence of freshly-caught meat.

Toriko‘s other strength is the artwork; look past that god-awful cover, and what you’ll find is some excellent cartooning. The monsters are fierce and slightly repulsive but plausibly edible, while the humans run the gamut from ridiculously virile — Toriko looks like a youthful Sylvester Stallone — to thoroughly decadent — the IGO’s Bureau Chief wears a leisure suit, aviator shades, and an ill-advised shag. Artist Mitsutoshi Shimabukaro renders each setting with enough detail to make it feel like a distinctive habitat; his mangrove swamp, where the garara gator lives, looks just pre-historic enough to harbor a pterodactyl or two. Not all of the visual gambits work: Toriko lives in a candy house, for example, a choice that seems out of character for a manly meat-eater, while a rainbow fruit tree falls flat in grayscale. Shimabukaro never belabors a sight gag, however, nimbly moving to the next set-piece before the failures even register.

I’d be the first to admit that Toriko won’t be every locavore’s idea of fun. I nearly lost my appetite watching Toriko lay waste to an entire banquet’s worth of food, and found some of the hunting scenes too protracted. If you’ve got a hearty constitution and a deep, abiding love of cooking competitions, however, this macho food-fest might just tickle your taste buds.

TORIKO, VOL. 1 • BY MITSUTOSHI SHIMABUKARO • VIZ MEDIA • 207 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

3 Things Thursday: Peepo Choo

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As David reported earlier this week, both he and I were guests on a recent episode of Ed Sizemore’s Manga Out Loud podcast, along with Ed (of course) and Okazu‘s Erica Friedman. Our topic of discussion was Felipe Smith’s Peepo Choo, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Morning Two magazine and published in English by Vertical, Inc.

To prepare for the podcast, I did a full re-read of the series as it stands, and as I reached the end, I felt incredibly sad that there was no more of it. Whatever the reason(s) for the three-volume wrap-up, and however gracefully Smith managed to wrap it up (quite gracefully, indeed), there was so much more I wanted to see, and I was pretty much heartbroken to know I’d never see it. Would Milton really be able to be true to himself once he got back home? What happens when Reiko gets there? Can Rockstar possibly survive Chicago, and who will he ultimately be if he does? These questions tease me mercilessly, along with many more.

Most of what I have to say about the series, I said on the podcast, but I do want to emphasize how much I enjoyed it and how much I thought it had to say, not just about fans, but about people in general, and how much energy we devote to our strong need for connection and identification. There’s a subtle warmth running quietly through the story that becomes evident as it progresses, offering a fascinating contrast to the outrageous, even shocking imagery Smith often uses to make his points. Ultimately the series was one of my favorites of the year, and if I can’t have more of it, I hope at least that we’ll soon see new work from Smith, whatever it might be.

On to the point of this column! There are a whole lot of reasons to read Peepo Choo, but since this is Thursday, I’m going to give you 3. Trust me, they’re more than enough. A bonus: alliteration.

3 Reasons to Read Felipe Smith’s Peepo Choo

1. Rants – One of the series’ most winning moments occurs right near the beginning of the first volume, when comic book store employee Jody calls out both the superhero fans and the anime fans in the store for being equal losers in the eyes of general society. Most fans will find that this rant hits home (maybe more than they’d like to admit). And just wait for what Smith does to US anime and manga companies later in the series.

2. Reiko – Easily the best (and best-written) character in the series, jaded teen gravure model Reiko kicks some serious ass, both literally and figuratively. She’s a strong female character who doesn’t have to give that up in order to find out who she really is. Hers is the most complete journey of the series, and it’s more than worth following.

3. Rockstar – I already admitted it in the podcast, so I might as well come clean here. Morimoto Rockstar is one of my favorite characters in the series, despite the fact that he’s pretty much a morally bankrupt psychopath. Somehow, right alongside his murderous impulses and shocking cruelty, he’s wearing his inner child right on the outside, plain for anyone to see. This juxtaposition of heartlessness and vulnerability is more than enough to fascinate me. Perhaps it’ll do the same for you!

All images and translation © copyright Felipe Smith. First published by Kodansha, Ltd. Published in English by Vertical, Inc.

So, readers, have you read Peepo Choo? What were your top three reasons?

From the stack: Kamisama Kiss vol. 1

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One of the bonuses of the most recent Manga Moveable Feast was being introduced to a series I really liked (as opposed to the pleasure of talking about a series I already appreciated), Julietta Suzuki’s Karakuri Odette (Tokyopop). For more points, the feast convinced me to pick up a copy of Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss (Viz), so now I have two new series that I enjoy. I also have a creator added to my “try automatically” list in Suzuki.

I’ve read good manga about supernatural boys sparking with human girls, and I’ve read some fairly icky manga about the same subject. Kamisama Kiss is decidedly on the good end of the spectrum; it’s endearingly familiar, but it has the same evidence of a quirky, distinct sensibility that Suzuki displayed in Karakuri Odette.

Nanami, a high-school girl, finds herself orphaned and homeless when her irresponsible father flees his gambling debts. Even in distress, she’s good hearted, and she helps a stranger she meets in the park where she’s planning to sleep. In return, he offers her shelter. Unfortunately, it turns out to be a dilapidated shrine, and the free rent is balanced by some heavy responsibilities.

One of those is riding herd over the supernatural staff, which includes a snide (but cute) fox demon named Tomoe. He dislikes Nanami and is reluctant to serve under her. Nanami finds him obnoxious, but she’s a responsible person, and she wants to fulfill her duties to the shrine (and not die at the hands of some rival demon). Disgruntled protagonists are nothing new, but Suzuki makes an important choice in her portrayal of them. She makes them equally matched.

Much as Tomoe would like to bully and deride Nanami for her human incompetence, Suzuki gives the girl an edge over the fox. He still has the advantage of his knowledge and powers, but Nanami gets just enough of the right kind of authority to hold her own. She approaches her responsibilities at the shrine differently, which Tomoe finds both irritating and intriguing. Suzuki finds small, surprising ways to indicate that their relationship may evolve further.

The art is appealing. After the appropriate restraint exhibited in Karakuri Odette, it’s nice to see Suzuki get a little goofy, even over the top at times. Her designs for the supernatural characters are great fun, particularly a visiting demonic dignitary Nanami tries to help. She’s a catfish priestess, of sorts, and Suzuki goes to town making her aristocratic, unnerving, and strangely adorable.

Kamisama Kiss is off to a very promising start. It’s got grumpy, likeable leads, a solid premise, and an endearing look to it.

The Josei Alphabet: A

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Welcome to the Josei Alphabet! For this installment, I’ve decided to focus on a small number of unlicensed titles, then try to list all of the titles that are available in English, along with Japanese magazines that start with that letter. As always, I hope you’ll mention your favorites that I’ve omitted, either licensed or not.

Some sites include yaoi titles in their josei listings. I’ve decided to exclude these for the simple reason that I may someday want to do a yaoi/boys’-love alphabet. So, while they’re often demographically targeted at adult women, I’ve decided to exclude them from this exercise. Now, without further ado…

“A” is for…

Abunazaka Hotel, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, serialized in Shueisha’s You: A mysterious hotelier seems to specialize in guests in the midst of romantic transition or turmoil, challenging their current state of affairs. It’s by Hagio, so it’s instantly desirable, and it only ran for three volumes, so it seems within the realm of reasonable risk.

Ai wa Kassai ni Tsutsumarete, based on a novel by Metsy Hingle, adapted by Shin Kurokawa, published by Oozora Shuppan: It would be remiss of me to ignore the romance-novel end of the josei equation, particularly adaptations of popular Harlequin properties. This one is about a man trying to protect his brother from a fiancé he believes to be a gold-digger. My choices from this subcategory will probably be based on how much I like the covers, which I fully admit is lazy.

Akatsuki no Aria, written and illustrated by Michiyo Akaishi, serialized in Shogakukan’s flowers: This one’s about a beautiful young student pianist who may have supernatural connections. It’s ongoing and up to around the 11 volume point. Another of Akaishi’s josei titles, Amakusa 1637, ran for 12 volumes in Shogakukan’s flowers, and it’s about a high-school kendo champion who’s thrown back in time and uses her skills to protect persecuted Christians in Japan in the 1600s. No, seriously. It was published in French by Akiko.

Applause, written and illustrated by Kyoko Arisohi, serialized variously in Akita Shoten’s Princess, Margaret, and Elegance Eve. This classic yuri tale from the creator of Swan follows a Japanese transfer student from a Belgian boarding school to a career as an actress in New York City. Erica (Okazu) Friedman is on the case. The series ran for a total of seven volumes.

Aisuru Hito, written and illustrated by Yuki Yoshihara, serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic. This smutty, four-volume comedy follows the dubious attempts of a broke college student to stay close to the professor she adores. This kind of story seems to be a specialty for Yoshihara, who also created Butterflies, Flowers (Viz).

Licensed josei:

  • All My Darling Daughters, written and illustrated by Fumi Yoshinaga, published by Viz, one volume, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Melody.
  • Angel, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha. (I’m sure I’ll have occasion to mention this again, but Johanna Draper Carlson wrote a piece on Sakurazawa’s translated manga for The Comics Journal that she’s made available at Manga Worth Reading.)
  • Angel Nest, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha.
  • The Aromatic Bitters, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, published by Tokyopop, one volume, originally serialized by Shodensha.
  • Awabi, written and illustrated by Kan Takahama, is licensed for publication in English by Fanfare/Ponent Mon, but it’s on hold. These short stories originally ran in Yukagu Shorin’s Junkudo.

What starts with “A” in your Josei Alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Anywhere But Here, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s flowers, two volumes.
  • Ashita no Ousama, written and illustrated by Emiko Yachi, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Young You, 10 volumes.
  • Amatsuki, written and illustrated by Shinobu Takayama, currently serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, 12 volumes at the time of this writing. due for publication in French by Kaze.
  • Amazoness no Matsue
  • Aru You de Nai Otoko, written and illustrated by Miho Obana, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, 1 volume.

Demon Sacred Volume 3

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Demon Sacred Volume 3 by Natsumi Itsuki

I absolutely love this series. The third volume wasn’t quite as crazy as the first two, but some good stuff happens. We get to see melancholy teen idol Keito’s reaction to meeting his demon doppleganger K2 and learn that Shinobu, hot young doctor and guardian to mystical teen twin girls has an Evil! Adoptive! European! Family! in his past. I feel somehow like this manga should come packaged with a musical microchip to play suitable dramatic music during these important plot revelations.

Nothing good can happen when a doppleganger takes the place of a teen idol in a photo shoot and manages to produce better pictures. Keito is amazed and disturbed when he sees photos of K2, and a little worried about his livelihood because the photographer is saying that he doesn’t need any other subjects for the rest of his life. Keito tracks down K2 at Mona and Rina’s house, and the teens begin to hash out this case of mistaken idol identity. Mona learns that Keito has been orphaned by return syndrome too. He sent his parents on a celebratory trip when he made it big, and they disappeared after encountering demons. Mona’s hesitant about telling Keito the truth about K2, but they end up forming an alliance after Mona explains about the increased numbers of demons, the possible government involvement, and her desire to cure Rina’s return syndrome. Itsuki continues to do a great job with characterization for two people that look the same but have totally different personalities. Keito is mature and a little bit withholding and glum, which is at odds with his job. K2 is a dangerous 5000 year old little kid with a severe case of puppy love. When Mona hugs him and tells him she’s glad to see him when he shows up just in time to fend off a demon attack, he’s delighted.

Shinobu has plenty of problems to deal with when he is abruptly called into work due to his malicious European adoptive siblings suddenly showing up to find out how he’s doing with the family business. It turns out that tortured scientist Shinobu is tortured because his evil blond brother Helmut abused him so badly as a young child, he lost his memory of the abuse. Now nothing is left but Shinobu’s severe repulsion whenever he has to look at Helmut’s angelic Aryan face. Shinobu has a few other evil European siblings but the one that seems like the most trouble next to Helmut is the bitchy Zophie, who quickly susses out the woman at work who has a crush on her Japanese brother, makes some horribly cutting comments, and figures out that Shinobu’s research interests are not what they seem. She really is amazingly efficient.

I put down this volume amazed at the sheer amount of plot Itzuki was able to cram into 200 pages. I didn’t even mention the way the group dealt with the pesky Griffin that’s been bothering them, and the hints about demon/human chain relations and the nature of K2’s power. Sometimes Demon Sacred has passages here and there that rely a little too much on exposition, but the world that Itsuki is building is so interesting, I don’t mind it at all. Demon Sacred‘s combination of cute guys, plucky in the face of tragedy teen girls, and wacky fantasy complete with conspiracy theories is so compelling. I can’t wait for the next volume.

Canada is just plain cooler

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The Toronto Comics Art Festival has scored a coup:

The Toronto Comic Arts Festival (TCAF) is excited to announce that internationally renowned manga creator Natsume Ono will make her first-ever North American public appearance as a Featured Guest at TCAF 2011. Hailing from Japan, Ono is one of the most exciting and unique women working in the medium today, and she will appear on panels and sign books in support of her English language works at Toronto Reference Library, May 7 and 8, 2011. Ono appears with the support of her English-language publisher VIZ Media.

Since I can’t resist praising Ono whenever her name comes up, I will happily repeat another paragraph from the press release:

“Ono’s fantastic work fits squarely into the ‘art comix’ idiom that’s at the core of the Festival,” enthuses Festival Director Christopher Butcher. “It’s the type of work we try to encourage. She’s a true auteur, working in a variety of styles and on different subjects, and her work is sure to find favour with fans of our other Featured Guests including Chris Ware, Jillian Tamaki, Mawil, and Adrian Tomine.”

You may recognize Mr. Butcher from his awesome blog or his work as manager of The Beguiling.

The cruelties of the calendar generally mean I can’t travel during the Festival, but I’m sure Ono’s appearances will be packed. I would certainly be elbowing people out of the way to get floor space, believe me. This is because I uniformly adore Ono’s work, going so far as to theoretically adore work that has yet to be published in English.

Other people who are excited by this news include Brigid (Robot 6) Alverson, Deb (About.Com) Aoki, and Heidi (The Beat) MacDonald. Erica (Okazu) Friedman and I were yammering on Twitter the other day about her concept of a “fifth genre” of manga that extends beyond, fuses, or ignores traditional demographic categories, and I only half jokingly suggested that you can identify a fifth-genre anthology by its serialization of work by Natsume Ono. Sure, she hasn’t had work run in Comic Beam, to my knowledge, but she’s all over IKKI, Manga Erotics F and Morning Two.

Enter the Digital Manga Guild

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Back in November, I posted a quick blog entry about the Digital Manga Guild, asking readers what they thought of its pretty radical proposal. Not unsurprisingly, much of the response was wary. Prospective participants were unwilling to trust an untested system with admittedly sketchy details on things like process and payment.

With that in mind, I contacted the folks at Digital Manga Publishing to ask how they’d feel about having someone report from the inside. I proposed that I sign up and take the editor’s test, and if I passed, I’d enter the Guild as both a participant and a journalist, reporting my experiences at Manga Bookshelf, so that prospective Guild members could get a real feel for how the Guild works, where the kinks are, and how the process might evolve during its debut run. To their credit, DMP was very enthusiastic about my proposal, and eager to hear any feedback I might have for them along the way. They also gave me the go-ahead to reveal anything about the Guild I felt necessary, including details like payment.

Last night, I received notification that I passed the editor’s test, so I guess it’s time to begin! I have three important notes before going forward. First, in order to report accurately, I must treat my participation as seriously as anyone else going in. So I’ll be approaching the DMG as a job with hard deadlines and high standards. Secondly, as a journalist, I feel it would be inappropriate for me to accept payment from DMG, so anything I personally make on the job will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. And lastly, I want to assure any participants who end up working with me that I will never reveal their names in my reports, and that my intention is to report on the Guild and not them.

Unsure if I’d be going forward until I received the results of my test, I took a few notes along the way. We’ll start with those here, with more detailed reports to come as my experience really gets underway.

11/4/10 – Just submitted my pre-registration. The process was easy, though the information requested seems sparse. Since I’ve never edited manga before, I submitted links to my own website, with a bit of discussion on other writing and editing I’ve done. From the form, I get little sense of how much experience they’re really looking for, or if the only thing that really matters is the upcoming test. Time will tell.

11/9/10 – Submitted my editor’s test. Had a little trouble uploading, because the file format the test was delivered in is not one of the formats accepted by their uploader. The webpage promises I’ll be contacted “shortly” but discussion on the forums reveals that they have a high volume of submissions & it might take a while. It might be nice to have a little more clarity on this subject. Also confusing, they are asking people who registered as individuals to form groups on their own, even though we haven’t found out yet if we’ve passed the test. This seems backwards.

1/31/11 – Received notice of acceptance into the Guild!

Dear MJ,

Thank you for taking the test, and for your patience in our grading. We are happy to let you know that you have passed the test, and welcome you to the Digital Manga Guild! If you haven’t already, please begin forming a group of at least three (typesetter, editor, and translator) and choosing one member to be your representative. The group representative will handle all communication, projects, and payments, so choose wisely! Feel free to visit our forums (http://www.digitalmanga.com/forums/viewforum.php?f=56) to find other group members. We will be contacting you very soon with the next step, including more details on a Q&A teleconference in mid-February with our President and agreement forms. Congratulations and welcome to the Guild!

Sincerely,
Digital Manga Publishing

My next step is to try to find myself a group. Most of the groupless have gathered in this thread at the DMG forum to introduce themselves and spell out their experience. It’s immediately apparent that there are more homeless editors than anything else, so we may have some difficulty each finding a place. With this in mind, my initial feedback to DMG is that I think some of the groupless editors feel a bit lost at this point. Understanding that the DMP staff is pretty swamped, I hope they’ll be able to provide a little moderation and assistance should things get dicey for groupless participants.

I’ll be posting my credentials over there along with the rest. Anyone want to join up with me? Please let me know!

More updates to come!

ETA: I’ve (sort of, maybe definitely) been invited to a group! More on this in the next installment!

Upcoming 2/2/2011

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No one should be surprised by my Pick of the Week, should they? With that out of the way, I thought I’d take a look at two of the titles on this week’s crowded ComicList. (Okay, they aren’t confirmed on the list, but they’re probably already available through sources other than Diamond.)

I’ve had a pretty good track record with comics about yokai, diverse supernatural creatures of varying degrees of menace. It’s a fairly popular genre, though, so you’re bound to come across a mediocrity from time to time. This week, the middling yokai are brought by Hiroshi Shiibashi’s Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan (Viz). It’s about a dull boy whose one-quarter yokai heritage puts him in line to be the big boss of a motley group of minor demons. He’s surrounded by fabulously rendered, energetic creatures who spend too much time in the background in favor of his stereotypical human classmates.

Rikuo wants to emphasize his human heritage rather than his yokai legacy. He objects to the anti-human meanness of his prospective subjects, and he struggles to conceal his weird home life when he’s at school. Dangerous circumstances occasionally draw the yokai part of Rikuo to the forefront, and he becomes an assertive butt-kicker who bears at least a passing resemblance to InuYasha. This only serves to remind you that there’s better folklore-based manga out there for your perusal.

Even with a sprawling cast of frequently charming monsters at his disposal, Shiibashi can’t seem to devote much attention to them. He’s more interested in Rikuo’s secret-identity shenanigans, his generically flinty female friend, and the idiot rival who develops a boy-crush on Rikuo’s forceful alter ego. They’re a predictable group, as are their escapades. I’d much rather see what was happening at Rikuo’s yokai-packed family manse than follow this shônen-ready Marilyn Munster around.

On a happier, though still decidedly gothic note, I like the second volume of Kaori Yuki’s Grand Guignol Orcheastra (Viz) better than I did the first. It inches closer to becoming a Yuki title that I can fully embrace, balancing melodrama, a dizzying aesthetic, and weird spikes of both humor and gore.

For those who have forgotten, it’s about a traveling group of magicians who battle the zombies that have overrun their sort-of period, kind-of European country. Their leader and vocalist, a guy named Lucille, has dark secrets and likes to dress in drag. Their pianist, a girl named Eles, has a tragic past and disguises herself as a boy. Their companions are seedy, and the government line on their efforts is ambivalent on the best days.

In the second volume, Yuki seems to find both a more assured narrative rhythm and more underlying heft to her story. The back story she reveals about Lucille adds necessary layers to the character without undermining his essential ridiculousness. It also provides a strong, underlying subplot to fuel future stories.

Yuki’s penchant for the absurd and just slightly perverse is still on unapologetic display. Our protagonists go undercover in a convent, looking for a sacred relic and investigating the grisly murders of young nuns. This mini-arc is shaping up to be both creepy and very funny, provided you find secretive nuns committing and subjected to unexpected violence funny, which, I assure you, I do.

Grand Guignol Orchestra is still a bit on the bubble for me, but it’s sliding off of it and onto firmer ground. It’s not a singular kind of story, but Yuki’s work is as coherent as I’ve seen it while still displaying the quirkiness that’s made her a sort of superstar.

(Comments are based on review copies provided by the publisher. Nura is currently running in Shueisha’s Weekly Shônen Jump, and it’s up to about 14 volumes, so maybe it gets better. Grand Guignol Orchestra ran for five volumes in Hakusensha’s Bessatsu Hana to Yume.)

As for books that will be available through Diamond, the highlight has to be the 13th volume of Osamu Tezuka’s medical melodrama, Black Jack (Vertical). In the perfectly understandable excitement over Vertical’s announcement of the licensing of Tezuka’s Princess Knight, we shouldn’t forget this often gruesome, frequently moving, creepily funny classic.

Another excellent arrival is the 22nd volume of Hikaru no Go (Viz), written by Yumi Hotta and illustrated by Takeshi (Death Note, Bakuman) Obata. This marvelous series about a young man who dreams of becoming a great Go player ends with volume 23, I think, but it’s worth starting from the beginning if you haven’t yet done so.

I haven’t read the first volume yet, but various enthusiastic reviews have persuaded me that I need to catch up with Yuuki Fujimoto’s The Stellar Six of Gingacho (Tokyopop), second volume due Wednesday, about a group of kids, all children of local shopkeepers, who try and reestablish their waning friendship. In my defense, Tokyopop’s marketing is often confusing to me, and I’m never sure if I’m going to get The Secret Notes of Lady Kanoko or KimiKiss.