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I Wish I Wrote That!

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Welcome to the first I Wish I Wrote That of 2011! I’ve got a great batch of writing to share with you this month, which is a pretty great way to start off the year.

First off, today’s main attraction is a wonderful essay posted just last night, the latest in Jason Thompson‘s “House of 1000 Manga,” this time featuring Swan.

Published incompletely in English by the now-defunct CMX, Swan is one of those manga I am trying my hardest to collect before the volumes become so scarce that they all go for $300 apiece from skeevy Amazon sellers. I haven’t yet made it to the double-digits, something that reading Jason’s essay makes me deeply regret. Almost nobody can make me want to read a manga the way that Jason Thompson can (which is why I went immediately broke after the release of Manga: The Complete Guide), and the way he talks about Swan, I expect my bank account will suffer again. A quote:

“I didn’t expect that a shojo manga about ballet would be one of the most fiery-spirited shonen manga I’ve read in the last few years. Blood and sweat, competition, agonizing training sequences — these are things that are more common in boys’ manga, but Swan transfers them to the ballet and somehow makes it a perfect fit. It’s a mixture of rivalry and hard work, art and elegance; a combination of yûjô, doryoku, bigaku … I don’t know if this is just stereotypes, but judging purely from Swan, Japanese girls in 1976 were 10 times more badass than men in most countries today.”

Jason’s maybe not as “quotable” as some snarkier manga critics–I’m not doubled over with laughter when I read even his funniest lines. The beauty of his writing is found in the whole, and the whole is what must be read. I wish I wrote that!

A few other terrific links:

Khursten Santos has a new review up at Otaku Champloo, for est em’s gorgeous BL anthology, Red Blinds the Foolish. “There was a time when I used to dream of Spanish fiestas. La Tomatina. Hogueras de San Juan. San Isidro de Madrid. Corrida de toros. And I did not dream of this because my country, the Philippines, used to be a Spanish colony. My fascination with it lies in the romance of the activity. There was something beautiful and romantic with the order that comes with the chaos of a fiesta.”

At The Manga Critic, Kate Dacey reworked a older review of Taiyo Matsumoto’s Blue Spring, and the result is beautifully descriptive: “Matsumoto eschews linear narrative in favor of digressions and fragments; as a result, we feel more like we’re living in the characters’ heads than reading a tidy account of their actions. Snatches of daydreams sometimes interrupt the narrative, as do jump cuts and surreal imagery: sharks and puffer fish drift past a classroom window where two teens make out, a UFO languishes above the school campus. Even the graffiti plays an integral part of Matsumoto’s storytelling; the walls are a paean to masturbation, booze, and suicide, cheerfully urging ‘No more political pacts–sex acts!'”

This one’s going to get super-meta, but in my very first incarnation of this column, I praised Shaenon Garrity’s essay about Cathy Guisewite’s Cathy. Today, Noah Berlatsky did the same at The Hooded Utilitarian, and dammit, his is better than mine. “Ultimately, though, while I appreciate the insight into my own animosities, what really made this perhaps my favorite piece of the year was the insight into Shaenon’s affections … the piece is filled with affection, and indeed love. That love is directed precisely at Cathy’s fans; the Baby Boomer women. Among those women is Shaenon’s mother…and Cathy Guisewite herself.”

And speaking of Shaenon Garrity, her latest post at comiXology, about Neil Gaiman’s Sandman makes me want to finally finish the series, which I had loved until I got too bogged down in the visual overload of its ever-changing artwork. “I dreaded rereading Sandman because it was the comic that got me hooked on comic books, when I was a nerdy teenager who hung out with the goths and followed them to Kent State coffeehouses on Friday nights, and there was no way it could possibly live up to my memories. The Dark Knight Returns didn’t; the art’s still amazing, but all of Batman’s monologues now sound like they’re about butt sex, and the fact that I can’t read them without giggling indicates that I’ve somehow gotten more juvenile since I was sixteen.” Or maybe I just want to read more Shaenon.

That’s what I wish I wrote this month! Readers, what about you?

License Request Day: Akuma to Dolce

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I’ll confess that I wasn’t familiar with the work of Julietta Suzuki before the announcement of the current Manga Moveable Feast. My mixed history with aspirational robotic fiction didn’t make Karakuri Odette an insta-buy, and my standoffishness towards reedy boys with more than one set of ears, while not yet the stuff of legend, is at least strong enough to make me look askance at Kamisama Kiss (Viz). But I do like what I’ve read of Karakuri Odette, and reliable sources have reassured me that Kamisama Kiss is a pleasant diversion.

As is the way of things (with me, at least), I’m disproportionately excited about a Suzuki series that has yet to be licensed. This is because Erica (Okazu) Friedman mentioned that her wife is very fond of Suzuki’s Akuma to Dolce. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Erica’s wife, but I’ve divined the fact that our tastes in shôjo are eerily similar. (Never underestimate the bond formed by a shared love for V.B. Rose.)  Add to this the fact that I really like comics about people who bake, and my anticipation becomes more pronounced.

It’s apparently about a girl with an aptitude for both magic and cooking. She inadvertently summons a powerful demon who, conveniently enough, will do just about anything for a sweet treat. From there, I would imagine that standard but charming, slightly idiosyncratic shôjo antics ensue. And this is sometimes all I require from a series.

Akuma to Dolce is currently running in Hakusensha’s The Hana to Yume, which is not to be confused with Hana to Yume, the magazine home to all of her major works to date. There are two volumes available thus far.

Speaking of yet-to-be-licensed manga about people who make dessert, Alexander (Manga Widget) Hoffman conducts a thorough investigation of Setona Mizushiro’s Un Chocolatier de l’Amour Perdu, which was recently nominated for a Manga Taisho Award.

3 Things Thursday: ‘ships ahoy!

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So, I used to be in fandom. No, I mean, Fandom. The kind with a capital “F.” Of course, anyone who’s ever been in Fandom knows that this means I used to read and write a whole lot of fanfiction. The less said about most of that now, the better, but somewhere around the New Year, I got a bit nostalgic and revisited my old writing. It was a fairly horrifying exercise, all told, but I came out of it all remembering just how much I enjoy ‘ships, and I don’t necessarily mean heavy-duty One True Pairing-type ‘ships (though I did have those from time-to-time), but more often the obscure, quiet, barely fannish ‘ships. I love the tiny, off-screen pairing whose story never gets told, the Big Fandom non-canon pairing with maybe three active fans, or the super-duper Big Time pairing… in a fandom with only three fans.

While it’s unlikely I’ll ever return to Fandom with the kind of zeal I once had, the whole thing got me thinking… what would I read now? Now that I read no fanfiction at all, is there any kind of ‘ship so compelling I’d throw aside everything in my too-busy day to read it? It just might be possible, I thought. And so I give you…

3 pieces of fanfiction I might actually read

1. Twin Spica | Mr. Lion/Yuko Suzunari | Kou Yaginuma | Vertical, Inc – One of my very favorite things about Twin Spica is the existence of Mr. Lion, first introduced as Asumi’s imaginary friend, and then later as the ghost of a young man who died in the tragic crash of the Lion space shuttle. The series’ first volume includes some of Mr. Lion’s backstory, including his romance with a young woman named Yuko Suzunari, who, years later, ends up being Asumi’s elementary school teacher. Though Mr. Lion intended to propose to Yuko, he never got the chance before he died.

There are any number of stories I might like to read about this couple, ranging anywhere from additional backstory depicting them as students to a bittersweet reunion that can never be made real. They’re a perfect fit for fanfiction, really, with just enough existing story to get a handle on the characters, but with so little actually written, there’s plenty of ground to cover.

2. One Fine Day | No-Ah/Aileru | Sirial | Yen Press – After finishing volume two of this whimsical children’s manhwa, I went directly to Twitter and said something like, “If nobody is writing No-Ah/Aileru fanfic, I don’t know what Fandom’s been doing with its time.” At least one person expressed horror over my statement at the time, but come on. There hasn’t been a pairing more obvious since Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

Again, this pairing could really go anywhere, and they have the advantage of being both “friends” and antagonists, depending on when you catch them. Magical powers don’t hurt either, though I’m not a big fan of overdoing that sort of thing. I’d enjoy anything from a sweet domestic scene to an out-and-out magician fight between these two. And Sirial keeps drawing them prettier and prettier, so I know it’s not just me. ;)

3. Flower of Life | Yamane/Sakai | Fumi Yoshinaga | Digital Manga Publishing – So, despite the fact that Sakai’s boyfriend clearly suspects that his girlfriend is having a crush (“Are you a lesbian?” he even asks her outright at one point), it’s possible Yoshinaga would say I am making this one up. Still, these two are adorable in their little side story in which slovenly Sakai borrows a beloved book from mature, meticulous Yamane.

Though something set in the same time-frame as the manga could certainly be sweet, I actually think I’d prefer future-fic here, with the two meeting up as adults, or perhaps in later college years. I’d like to see how both of them might grow up–especially Yamane who appears so grown-up even in high school. I can imagine the story already, really… like the reunion of the two women near the beginning of Antique Bakery, only this time Tachibana might be right. Hey, maybe it’s a Yoshinaga crossover!

Okay, I’ve indulged myself enough here, I think.

So, readers, if you did read fanfiction, what fanfiction would you like to read? Or maybe you could write me some comment-fic? :D

Karakuri Odette Thursday Commentary

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Today we have a bit of a change of pace from the usual reviews, there are two commentary pieces on the series served up for your reading pleasure instead.

Manga Bookshelf’s Off The Shelf features a conversation between Michelle and MJabout the series. As I’ve mentioned before one of things I’ve enjoyed about this MMF is seeing the contrasting impressions of people who’ve been reading the series all along verses those who picked up some volumes just for the feast. Michelle has been reading Karakuri Odette for some time, but MJchecked out the series due to the MMF.

Over on animemiz, Linda compares Odette to other androids in manga.

Enjoy today’s links! If you’ve written on Karakuri Odette and I’ve missed your post somehow, please contact me so I can include it.

From the stack: Sand Chronicles vols. 9 and 10

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If Hinako Ashihara had contented herself with the conclusion of the main story of Sand Chronicles (Viz) in the eighth volume, I don’t think most fans of the series could have reasonably complained. We’ve seen our heroine, Ann Uekusa, grow from pre-teen to woman, through a stormy adolescence packed with setbacks, disappointments, and rewarding steps forward toward maturity. Ann’s is a fully realized character arc, one of the most complete you’re likely to find in comics.

I’m a bit of a glutton, and I’m a sucker for side stories, so I was thrilled to learn that there were two more volumes of material, checking in with supporting characters and giving readers a look at Ann’s life after “happily ever after.”

In the ninth volume, Ashihara gives us a glimpse into the troubled adolescence of Ann’s mother, whose beauty and gentleness make her the object of jealousy and the subject of rumor in her very small town. As tricky as the core conceit of the story can be – she’s too pretty and fragile for this world – Ashihara grounds it with surprising skill. It highlights the underlying emotional brutality that bubbles up in Ashihara’s work, and while it doesn’t fully excuse Ann’s mother’s later choices, it does give those choices additional context.

The second half is given to a chance encounter between Ann’s friend and rival, Shika, and one of Ann’s exes as they build lives for themselves in New York City. Given the tendency of some shôjo mangaka to exile the ostensible bad girl to a faraway land where she can build a new and better life – you generally see her in a panel, reading a letter from the heroine, who has graciously forgiven her – it’s nice to see that new life in detail. It’s a generous impulse, and it results in a sweet, redemptive encounter for the characters involved.

The tenth volume returns us to our heroine, Ann, and her true love. I’m reluctant to go into too much detail, since who that true love turns out to be is a significant plot point through the series, but the volume-length story shows us the satisfying adult relationship that evolved from turbulent, youthful love. We see Ann’s partner adapt to adult responsibilities, and we see her as a supportive, functioning person, which is a lovely gift to longtime readers.

Aside from being gracefully written and beautifully drawn, these volumes repay patience and investment that resulted not from flash but from sincerity and craft. It’s like a sumptuous brunch the morning after the wedding of a couple you rooted for but were never quite certain would make it to “I do.” They’re essential reading for fans of Sand Chronicles, and they’re additional inducement to read the series from beginning to end if you haven’t already.

Off the Shelf: Karakuri Odette

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MICHELLE: Hello, Off the Shelf readers! MJand I are devoting this week’s column to Karakuri Odette, the topic for this month’s Manga Moveable Feast hosted at Manga Report. I had read some of this series before the MMF was announced, but MJnever had. That has since been rectified!

MJ, it has taken a lot of self-control not to pester you with repeated, “Did you like it? Did you like it?” inquiries this past week. And of course I’d like to know that, but I’d also like to ask what you expected Karakuri Odette might be like going into it and how it compared to your expectations.

MJ: I have to say that I actually had very few expectations going in, other than knowing that it was shoujo that you like and having a vague sense of what that means. And in those uncertain terms, I’d say it fulfilled my expectations entirely. Probably the series it most reminds me of is Kimi ni Todoke–a prime example of “shoujo Michelle likes” if there ever was such a thing. Its tone is similarly good-hearted, and there are actually quite a few similarities between Odette and Sawako in that both of them are really learning to be high school girls for the very first time. That robot Odette seems to accomplish this more easily than human Sawako says quite a bit about both of them and the worlds they inhabit.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I tend to like a lot of those good-hearted shoujo series (many of which were serialized in Margaret or one of its offshoots). And you’re absolutely right about the similarities between Odette and Sawako. Both, for example, have people around them who *like* someone, which is a concept somewhat alien to heroines who are happy enough just to have some friends! So they both must learn what liking someone actually entails. As of volume five, Odette hasn’t really figured that out yet, and Sawako gets it by volume four or so, so the human’s not too far ahead!

MJ: Well, though Odette may not have figured it out intellectually, she’s certainly got the symptoms! This is actually something I wanted to bring up with you. Odette has clearly picked up some genuine emotion along the way, and while this is certainly not a sci-fi series by any means, that’s still a pretty big deal for a robot in any universe. It seems clear, too, that mangaka Julietta Suzuki is charting a romantic course for Odette with Asao, one way or another. How do you feel about that? Does this at all impair your ability to suspend disbelief? And should Suzuki ultimately not go down that road, how will you feel about this as a shoujo manga?

I’m personally torn on both these questions, so I’m curious to hear your take on it all.

MICHELLE: Ooh, what a good question. I have vastly enjoyed Odette’s gradual acquisition of feelings, because Suzuki’s take on it has been laudably understated. Odette’s growing interest in Asao doesn’t impair my ability to suspend disbelief, because honestly I think accepting the whole robot protagonist concept in the first place means one has given blanket acceptance to all sorts of things. I like that she’s beginning to see him in this light, particularly because he was introduced as having feelings for someone else and, so far, does not seem to be thinking of Odette in a romantic light. I always admire series that go for the unexpected ending, so seeing Odette and Asao together at the end would be somewhat of a disappointment, actually. In my ideal ending, she realizes that she loves him, recognizes that he doesn’t love her, and is totally happy that she understands the feeling, even if it must remain unrequited.

An even worse case scenario than Odette ending up with Asao would be to see her paired up with either of the robot boys who seem interested in her. Chris is just too bland, and Travis just too flamboyant.

MJ: Poor Chris! He works so hard only to be labeled “bland!” ;) I think Chris is an especially sympathetic character, actually, because he’s most likely not capable of ever understanding Odette fully or catching up with her at all. He’s simply not an advanced enough robot. Yet if there’s anything he’s learned to actually want it is to please Odette so that he can continue to be with her. It’s subtly written and heartbreaking to watch. And really not that different from some tragic human relationships I’ve seen in my day.

MICHELLE: Well, when you put it that way! Poor Chris, indeed! It’s not that I dislike him—perhaps what I mean is that a relationship with Asao would be more challenging for Odette and prompt further progress toward humanity. Though, of course, I suppose it could say something creepy about Asao if he wanted to date a robot, even one as awesome as Odette.

MJ: Yes, I suppose that’s true. It’s hard to really keep a handle on concepts like that in this series’ universe, where there seem to be robots turning up all the time. This is actually the one aspect of the series I’m not completely sold on at this point. I am enjoying the story of Odette. Where better for any character to learn to be a “girl” than in the pages of a shoujo manga? But though I’ve liked most of the other robots who have turned up in the story, there have been so many of them at this point, it actually is beginning to wear on my ability to suspend disbelief. Or perhaps it’s that too many robots are muddying the waters. This may seem unreasonable, I realize. If I’ve already accepted one robot in the story, what’s keeping me from accepting five? But somehow Odette losing the uniqueness of her existence makes it progressively harder for me to take her circumstances seriously.

I like this manga, I really do. But I wish there were fewer robots. Does that make any sense at all?

MICHELLE: It does, and I get your point. It’s been a while since I read the first three volumes, but I recall a more social robot appearing there against which Odette measures herself. I suppose that’s useful for her, but the pair of robots introduced in volume five feels completely superfluous to me. There are already enough guys (human and mechanical) who are interested in Odette—we didn’t need another. I have a feeling they were introduced only as accessories to their creator, who is probably going to do something dastardly in the final volume.

MJ: Yes, I believe this feeling really did kick in with the introduction of Travis and Grace. It’s not that they’re bad characters, but they feel really incidental to Odette’s story. Honestly, I feel the same way about their sinister creator. This story doesn’t need that kind of melodrama to survive. It was so much more than that when we were just watching Odette learn how to be human.

MICHELLE: Definitely. I reviewed volumes four and five together and liked the former—which focuses largely on Odette’s friendship with sheltered rich girl, Shirayuki—much more than the latter. I wonder whether you share my affection for Shirayuki. I was quite impressed that Suzuki-sensei introduced a new significant character into the cast so seamlessly. She functions as a kind of Sawako, actually. Someone who has shunned human contact and so provides Odette a friend who is also experiencing some commonplace things for the first time.

MJ: I do like her quite a bit, yes! Though I’ve felt that since Shiayuki started attending school with Odette, the author has conveniently ignored her condition, for the most part. We’ve watched Shirayuki go through some rough times, but I can’t recall anything that’s actually had to do with the fact that she hears people’s thoughts whenever they touch her. It was supposedly this huge, terrifying issue that had cut her off from her family and society, but now that she’s in society, it seems to have ceased to exist, at least to any significant extent. So what was the problem again? I like the character, but maybe she really didn’t need that trait to be the person the author wanted to write.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I noticed that, too. And I wasn’t sure how she initially concludes Odette will never lie to her based solely on the fact that she can’t hear Odette’s thoughts, either. I think you’re right that that trait wasn’t necessary and probably Suzuki realized it, too. It must speak highly of my fondness for this series that I, usually such a stickler about plot continuity and the like, am willing to forgive and forget the mishandling of Shirayuki’s ability just because I like the character so much.

MJ: And it’s funny, you know I generally don’t care all that much about such things, so you know it all must be really, really obvious. :D Still, I’ll forgive this series nearly anything because I just really like Odette. She’s a wonderfully written character, and that’s something that hasn’t changed in the slightest over the course of the series so far. In fact, I’d say some of the best writing involving her happens in volume five, when she’s struggling over her irritation with Chris. In those moments, she’s both authentically human and authentically not at the same time. It’s brilliantly written. And while I wish the writing was more consistent, I’m not actually unhappy.

MICHELLE: I wonder, since you read Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss first, do you prefer it over Karakuri Odette? It’s a later work, so will probably be more polished (it’s hard to tell from the single volume that’s been released in English so far) but I’m not as captivated by its lead as I am by Odette. Hopefully that will change in time.

MJ: I think that it’s really too early to tell. I’m very attached to Odette, and I barely know Nanami at all. I will say that one thing both series have in common is their sense of humor. This is actually something I wanted to be sure to bring up here, because despite the fact that Karakuri Odette is, in many ways, a standard high school shoujo series, the humor grabs me more than most. There was one bit of dialogue, for instance, that delighted me so much, I stopped to write it down. It appears near the end of volume three, when Odette has coerced Asao into going on a double-date with her at an amusement park. Startled at Odette’s choice of date, her friend Yoko asks, half jokingly, whether they need to worry that Asao (who has a reputation for fighting) might “snap and get violent all of a sudden.” Odette responds earnestly, “It’s okay. I’ve never seen any part of Asao snap off.” It’s the tiniest thing, but I actually laughed out loud. The series is full of moments like that.

MICHELLE: It is! The interaction between Odette and the Professor is frequently amusing, as well. And it’s all humor born of the characters’ personalities and not based at all on “oh, the wacky android doesn’t understand our ways” gags or something.

MJ: Yes, you’re absolutely right. Even the line I mentioned, which is certainly a symptom of Odette’s inexperience with human idioms, is not overplayed. The laugh is there, but it isn’t telegraphed in that goofy gag kind of way. It’s the simplicity and honesty of it that makes it so funny.

MICHELLE: I agree. :)

So, I talked a little about what I’d like to see in the final volume. What would you like to see happen?

MJ: This is probably going to sound like a cop-out, but with occasional exceptions, I try to avoid expecting specific outcomes when I read. In general terms, I’d like to see some kind of satisfying conclusion for Odette (whatever that might mean), and for Chris and the Professor as well, since I’ve become quite fond of the three of them. As long as it feels like an ending, though, I’m not feeling too picky about it. Sure, a romance is always nice, but problematic in this case, as you’ve pointed out. So I think I just want to see it come to a real stopping point–one that’s hopefully positive for Odette.

MICHELLE: I can’t quarrel with that!

Check in next week for January’s installment of BL Bookrack, and then again the week after for an all new Off the Shelf!

Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers by Grant Naylor: B

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Book description:
The first lesson Lister learned about space travel was you should never try it. But Lister didn’t have a choice. All he remembered was going on a birthday celebration pub crawl through London. When he came to his senses again, he was living in a locker on one of Saturn’s moons, with nothing in his pockets but a passport in the name of Emily Berkenstein.

So he did the only thing he could. Amazed to discover they would actually hire him, he joined the Space Corps—and found himself aboard Red Dwarf, a spaceship as big as a small city that, six or seven years from now, would get him back to Earth. What Lister couldn’t foresee was that he’d inadvertently signed up for a one-way jaunt three million years into the future—a future which would see him the last living member of the human race, with only a hologram crewmate and a highly evolved Cat for company. Of course, that was before the ship broke the light barrier and things began to get really weird…

Review:
Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers retells a handful of episodes from the first two seasons of the BBC sci-fi comedy, Red Dwarf, and provides additional background information on its two main characters, priggish Arnold J. Rimmer and slovenly Dave Lister.

For those unfamiliar with the show, it takes place aboard the mining ship Red Dwarf. Rimmer is a lowly technician—just about the lowest rank on the ship, tasked with things like unclogging chicken soup nozzles on vending machines—and his only underling is Lister. While Lister is in stasis as punishment for smuggling a (pregnant) cat on board, Rimmer causes an accident that floods the ship with radiation, killing the entire crew.

It takes three million years for the radiation to reach levels safe enough for the computer to let Lister out, which triggers an iconic scene wherein Lister wanders around while the computer, Holly, repeats, “Everybody’s dead, Dave,” with varying inflections until the Liverpudlian finally gets it. Holly brings Rimmer back as a hologram, judging him to be the companion best suited to keep Lister sane, and they soon discover that the cat’s descendants have evolved into a highly fashion-conscious civilization, of which only one member now remains. Episodic silliness ensues.

The book follows this basic outline, too, but adds some scenes to flesh out the characters. For example, rather than meeting Rimmer and Lister aboard the ship, we first encounter them on Mimas, one of Saturn’s moons, in a scene in which Lister has stolen the equivalent of a taxi and picks Rimmer up as a fare. We learn that Lister joined the Space Corps solely as a means of getting back to Earth—and purposefully got caught with the cat so that he’d be put in stasis and the journey home would feel shorter—and receive additional insight on Rimmer’s desperation to become an officer. Both benefit from this treatment and emerge as more sympathetic characters.

Not every episode from the first two seasons is represented—Lister isn’t shown taking the chef’s exam in order to outrank Rimmer, for example—but some, like “Future Echoes,” are included almost verbatim. Because of this structure, there’s not so much a cohesive plot as a string of linear events, culminating in the crew believing that they’ve managed to return to Earth. The material, both old and new, provides quite a few giggles, but can also be extremely unfunny, like when Rimmer and his holographic double squabble interminably.

In addition, a few changes have been made that outright contradict the show. The captain, once male, is now female. Although Lister never was able to tell his long-time crush, Kristine Kochanski, about his feelings on the show, in the book they enjoy a month-long fling. There’s no obvious reason for these alterations, but it’s better to think Grant Naylor—the pseudonym adopted by the show’s creators, Rob Grant and Doug Naylor—made them for some purpose rather than merely by accident.

What this all boils down to is that the content of this book is decently entertaining, though not excellent, and probably deserves somewhere in the vicinity of a B-, which is the grade it likely would have received had I read the print edition. But I didn’t. Instead, Hubby and I listened to the unabridged audiobook read by Chris Barrie (the actor who portrayed Rimmer) and holy freakin’ crap! He was amazing!

Okay, true, Barrie mispronounces the occasional word—“irrevocably” being the most egregious—but his skill in impersonating his castmates is truly incredible. So good, in fact, that I found myself thinking, “I can’t wait until they discover Cat so I can hear Chris Barrie do his voice!” Every single one is great, and though Kryten is perhaps the most eerily accurate, I found myself most transported by Barrie’s take on Lister. Many, many times I forgot that I was not actually listening to Craig Charles in the part.

Barrie’s performance bumps the grade up a notch, and I’d go so far as to say that one should eschew the print edition entirely. He really does bring that much to one’s enjoyment of the book.

Manga Moveable Feast: I sense a pattern

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Just like yesterday, today we have reviews of the first and fifth volumes.

Here’s a look at volume 1 at Experiments in Manga, from a fan of androids in science fiction, “Odette’s eyes and subdued facial expressions visually set her apart from her classmates, but the effect is marvelously subtle. Suzuki also is able to capture the good-natured eccentricity of the professor in how he dresses and behaves—an aspect of his character that isn’t immediately obvious from dialogue alone. And both his and other characters’ (especially Asao’s) frequently over-the-top reactions are a lot of fun to see.”

I also posted my review of volume 5 earlier today.

I’m excited to see new readers discovering this series due to the Manga Moveable Feast, and am looking forward to reading more posts about Karakuri Odette tomorrow.

Best Online Comics Criticism 2010

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You may remember last year, when Johanna Draper Carlson pointed out the absence of both manga and female writers in the Hooded Utilitarian’s Best Online Comics Criticism 2009, featuring pieces chosen from throughout the year by a jury of five (male) critics. It seems likely that Johanna’s criticism was a factor in the selection of the subsequent jury, which included several female manga critics, one of whom was me.

Along with me, 2010’s jury was made up of Derik Badman, Johanna Draper Carlson, Shaenon K. Garrity, Tim Hodler, Chris Mautner and Bill Randall. Throughout the year, we submitted links to the group, pointing to comics criticism we found exceptional. At the end of the year, these links helped us each create a list of our top ten pieces, which were then compiled by the jury’s organizer, Ng Suat Tong. As Suat tallied the year’s votes, he suggested that multiple votes for the same author (on different pieces) be consolidated into votes for a single article, which ultimately gave me more spots on my top ten, and also helped to solidify some writers’ inclusion on the final list.

2010’s top picks among the jury were:

Jason Thompson: The Other Love that Dare Not Speak Its Name

Katherine Dacey on Ayako

Joe McCulloch: Essay on Thought Balloons (“The Problem with American Vampires Is That They Just Don’t Think”)

Craig Fischer on David Mazzucchelli (Born Again Again)

David Bordwell on Hergé (Tintinopolis)

Dirk Deppey: The Mirror of Male-Love Love

Ken Parille: Casper, Formalism, and the ‘Great’ Search Party

Before I reveal my own final list, I’d like to mention a couple of pieces that are not there and why. I must begin by confessing how disappointed I was to discover after I’d agreed to participate, that Shaenon Garrity would also be on the jury. One of the great injustices of the 2009 list, I felt, was that nothing of Shaenon’s appeared there, and her inclusion on the 2010 jury meant that I would have no opportunity to right this terrible wrong! In particular, this year, I raved about her wonderful piece on Cathy Guisewite’s Cathy, and nearly anything pulled from her weekly column at The Comics Journal, The Strangest Pictures I Have Seen. Also not on my final list, but one of my favorite pieces this year, was Ariel Schrag’s Queer identities in comics, the first of her articles to appear at AfterEllen.com.

Now for my final ten votes! These notes are mainly personal reflections on the pieces rather than profound statements on their critical achievement, and should be taken as such. Here they are:

Katherine Dacey on Sexy Voice and Robo/Harriet the Spy. I originally nominated both this and Kate’s Ayako review, with the first consolidation effort resulting in this single vote. Though later discussion between jurors led to all votes going for Ayako (fine with me, obviously), I wanted to put a little spotlight on this review as well, as it was one of my very favorite pieces of the year. Kate has a magnificent ability to make connections between works from different mediums and to express those connections with insight and clarity, and her Sexy Voice essay is a prime example of this talent.

Jason Thompson – To Protect and Kill: Morality in Action Manga: Again, this vote ended up being consolidated into a vote for Jason’s incest piece, both of which I nominated in my original ten, but since this one didn’t make the cut, I thought I should give it a boost. I always enjoy Jason’s writing, and as someone who first came to comics via shounen manga, this piece had special appeal for me.

Dirk Deppey – The Mirror of Male-Love Love: This honest, personal discussion of the writer’s own history as a foundation for criticism of Boys’ Love Manga is a perfect example of what makes compelling writing, online or anywhere else. I’m always most swayed by writers who are able to talk about their personal experience without losing their argument inside it all. Dirk Deppey does that astonishingly well.

Peter Sattler on R Crumb’s Genesis: What’s fantastic about this piece of criticism is how deliberately and clearly it is structured, making it an incredibly informative read even for someone (like me) who hasn’t actually read the comic being discussed. Oh, to be able to write like this. I can only dream of that day!

Karen Green on Pushwagners Soft City: There’s already been some discussion of the fact that our votes lean heavily towards positive criticism, but this piece is actually a wonderful example of why. Karen’s essay here made me feel truly excited about the book she was discussing–I mean really, truly inspired and excited. “This is why I read comics!” I thought at the time. Who doesn’t want to feel like that?

Deb Aoki, David Welsh, Sean Gaffney, Tucker Stone, David Brothers, Joe McCulloch, Ryan Sands, & Scott Green – “AXed” Intro | Part 1 | Part 2: Suat has already expressed his dismay at the inclusion of AXed in this year’s list of runners-up, but in my opinion, this collaborative criticism created entirely on Twitter best demonstrates one of the ways in which online criticism can actually be unique as online criticsm. In the hands of bloggers, concepts of journalism, criticism (and any other kind of writerly “ism”), have ceased to be the precisely distinct entities they once were, carefully controlled and meted out by the keepers of their mediums. Online platforms give writers the opportunity to mash these things up as they please, and to discover new ways in which to express critical thought. While some certainly see this as an assault on traditional criticism, I think it’s fantastic. And it’s not just the “isms” that are being challenged here. The writers who participated in AXed also challenged the platform they were writing on, utilizing Twitter for something far more ambitious than it was ever intended. The result? More of what I’m looking for in the places I frequent online: smart, thoughtful people talking about manga.

Joe McCulloch on thought balloons (“The Problem with American Vampires Is That They Just Don’t Think”): Thought balloons (or boxes, or pieces of floating thought text) are tricky business in my book, always endangering the directive of “show not tell.” But this essay gave me a new appreciation for representations of the inner monologue in any form. It’s a great read.

Phil Nugent on Doonesbury: My very first exposure to comics was by way of my dad. There were two comic strips he loved enough to collect in full, book by book. One, unsurprisingly, was Charles Schultz’s Peanuts. The other? Gary Trudeau’s Doonesbury. I read all of my dad’s extensive Doonesbury collection multiple times over when I was a kid in the mid-seventies, despite the fact that I had little understanding of the politics behind it all. My early love for Doonesbury was no doubt the seed for my teenaged obsession with Berkeley Breathed’s Bloom County, the only comic strip I ever followed as ravenously as my dad followed those he loved. Having not kept up with Doonesbury as an adult, I found Phil Nugent’s analysis of his eventual disappointment in the strip sad, but I can’t deny that it reads like truth.

David Welsh on To Terra… : Though this particular installment of the Manga Moveable Feast brought out quite a bit of interesting criticism from around the manga blogosphere, David’s discussion of the series’ shounen-ai undertones was probably my personal favorite. Eternally fascinated as I am by Japan’s system of manga demographics, this essay could have been written just for me. Thanks for that, David!

Tucker Stone on Blue Spring: Recommended quietly on Twitter by the awesome Kai-Ming Cha, this review simply enchanted me with its understated humor and insight. “… because youthful purpose is the single greatest murderer of youthful pleasure that I can think of,” is probably one of my favorite quotes all year. Also, this: “In the cult of comics blogging, I’m as guilty as many, with a long list of regretful moments of generous praise that strikes me now as being overly kind. I don’t think I’ll regret saying that this is the kind of comic that I would love to see more of, no matter who produces it. It’s eclectic and demanding, hysterically immature at times, and yet, from beginning to end, its viscerally entertaining, visually fascinating, and extremely unique. ”

As a sometimes-critic, that sentence rings startlingly true to my own experiences. And as a reader, what more can I possibly ask?

Kimi ni Todoke Volumes 6 and 7

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Even though I do enjoy manga series with a more cynical vision of love, it is nice sometimes to read something that does simple and sweet very well. Kimi ni Todoke end up being a gentle, feel-good series with a twist – its heroine is totally naive about normal human interaction because her unfortunate resemblance to a famous character from a Japanese horror movie has isolated her socially for years. High school is a time for her to finally come out of her shell as she finally begins to make friends and manages to attract the attention of Kazehaya, one of the most popular boys in school.

One thing I really enjoy is when manga series with a large ensemble cast take the time to give the supporting members their own stories. Sometimes this can lead to a series seeming unnecessarily drawn out (I’m looking at you, Kare Kano), but more often it seems refreshing to learn more about a character who hadn’t been the main focus of the storytelling previously. The sixth volume of Kimi ni Todoke focuses on Chizu, the tomboy in Sawako’s group of friends. Chizu is boisterous and a little dense, but she has a good heart. She’s nursed a crush on her friend Ryu’s older brother Toru for years, but when he returns home with a fiancee Chizu is forced to confront the reality that he mainly sees her as a sibling. It is obvious that Ryu has a crush on Chizu but she probably isn’t ready to deal with his feelings. Chizu’s friends support her as she works through her issues with Toru. She wants him to see her as a woman, but even when she appears before him in a miniskirt instead of her usual sporty attire, his response is that she’s been showing her legs off since she was a kid.

One of the nice things in this volume was seeing all of Chizu’s friends come together to support her in different ways. Sawako and Yano maintain a facade of normalcy, waiting for the moment when Chizu will feel like talking to them. Ryu always seems to be around when Chizu needs to talk or rage at someone, and Kazehaya keeps tabs on the situation in his own way. Shiina’s art is a little more scratchy around the edges than you might expect if you’ve been reading a lot of more polished-looking shoujo titles, but this actually serves to emphasize the changing emotional states of her characters very well. When Sawako is sunk in gloom wondering how to support Chizu, she does look like a caricature of the terrifying Sadako. Chizu seems to crackle with energy when she makes her outrageous pronouncements. When she sees Toru for the first time with her friends she screams “Hide Yano! Hide her boobs! Put her in a closet!” because she doesn’t want Toru to be drawn in by Yano’s natural sexiness. It was fun to see Chizu work through the loss of her first love, and it was interesting to see the way Ryu seems to serve as a quiet, steady counterweight to her more explosive personality.

Kimi ni Todoke Volume 6 by Karuho Shiina

Kimi ni Todoke Volume 7 by Karuho Shiina

The seventh volume switches back to focus on the romance between Sawako and Kazehaya, which is developing at an adorable but glacial pace. Sawako’s friends decide to spring a date on Sawako and Kazehaya by arranging a group New Year’s outing to a shrine and then abruptly disappearing once Sawako and Kazehaya are together. Sawako’s big secret is that Dec 31st is her birthday, but she’s thrilled that she’s going to be able to see Kazehaya on that special day. Yano and Chizu give Sawako a mini makeover and her horrifying facial expressions when she’s trying not to cry and ruin her makeup are hilarious.

The awkward date at the shrine begins, with Kasehaya seeming just as nervous as Sawako. They both are hyper aware that they’re walking together, and their friends hide in the bushes to spy on them and provide a running commentary. Seeing Chizu and Yano look so thrilled about the date was funny, as they exclaim to each other “They’ve started walking and talking side by side!” and “They’re gonna go get amazake!” Ryu just sits off to the side shaking his head. Even though Sawako’s never been out on an accidental date before, Kazahaya is in a similar position. It is the first time he’s gone to a shrine at New Year’s with a girl. I enjoyed all the cultural details of the shrine visit, and it was very cute to see the couple enjoying each others’ company with the type of blushing teenage awkwardness that only manifests itself with first love. They exchange e-mail addresses and when Kazahaya sees the sequence of numbers in Sawako’s after she texts him to say “Thank you for everything this year” he realizes that it is her birthday and comments that he wished he’d bought her a present. While they might have had a nice sudden date, Sawako isn’t really ready to take the next step even though she acknowledges to herself that she wants more than friendship with Kazahaya. It is a very good thing that Kazahaya seems to be the most emotionally intelligent, patient, and sensitive Japanese teenage boy that ever lived, because otherwise I could see rough times ahead for their romance.

Review copies provided by the publisher.