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Welcome, Cathy!

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Not long ago, we asked readers what they’d like to see from the new, multi-site Manga Bookshelf. One of the requests made of us at the time was for some kind of “anime vs. manga” feature, in which anime adaptations would be compared against their manga source material. We all thought it was a great idea! Trouble is… none of us watch much anime.

Today, please welcome Cathy Yan, the newest contributor to Manga Bookshelf, who will be sharing her thoughts on anime with us monthly via her new column, “Don’t Fear the Adaptation.” The first of Cathy’s articles has been posted this morning, featuring Rumiko Takahashi’s classic seinen romantic comedy, Maison Ikkoku.

So check out Cathy’s post, and let her know what you think! Then don’t forget to add her on Twitter!

Don’t Fear the Adaptation: Maison Ikkoku

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Hello, this is Cathy! I’m so excited to be a part of Manga Bookshelf! To kick off the anime reviews, I thought I’d start with something long, old, and beloved.

Maison Ikkoku | by Rumiko Takahashi | Manga: Shogakukan/Viz Media | Anime: Studio Deen/Viz Media

Buy at Amazon

Anyone who’s ever read manga has probably read a Rumiko Takahashi story, whether it be Rumic Theater, Ranma 1/2, or Inuyasha. She is easily one of the most recognizable and popular mangaka, one of the few that all American readers can name with ease. But in 1980, Takahashi was 23 and her first major work, Urusei Yatsura, was only just beginning to pick up. Armed with her own experiences of living in a small apartment with her two assistants, she sat down to write what became my favorite of her long epics: Maison Ikkoku.

Maison Ikkoku is about the residents of Ikkoku-kan, a boarding house in Tokyo. The protagonist, Yusaku Godai, is a 20 year old ronin student deep into his second year of trying to pass college entrance exams, when the story opens on the arrival of Kyoko Otonashi, the young widow who’s Ikkoku’s new manager. Yusaku instantly falls in love with Kyoko, but like all Takahashi romances, there are plenty of obstacles. The other residents of Ikkoku do their utmost to create embarrassing situations for the uncertain couple. The local tennis coach Shun Mitaka, a rich and suave playboy, declares his own intentions towards Kyoko within hours of meeting her and spends the rest of the series wooing her. Yusaku’s cheery ex-coworker Kozue Nanao eventually becomes his cheery girlfriend, though, much to everyone’s chagrin, she never cottons onto Yusaku’s feelings for Kyoko. Then of course, there’s Kyoko herself, who worries that loving a new man would be betraying the memory of her dead husband. Throw in three interfering families, an engagement made and broken by a fear of dogs, and a high school girl determined to marry Yusaku, and it’s easy to see how the story spanned seven years, fifteen volumes of manga, and 96 episodes of anime before coming to a satisfactory end.

Maison Ikkoku is ultimately a slice-of-life romantic comedy, but unlike Takahashi’s other series, it’s set firmly in the real world. The recurring characters, while exaggerated, are perfectly ordinary people with perfectly ordinary problems. Families get into screaming arguments, marriage is complicated by monetary concerns and societal approval, young men and women worry about their future careers. The path leading up to Ikkoku, the persimmon trees, the kotatsu, the fear of the economic downturn, Kyoko’s habit of sweeping the sidewalk free of leaves– all these are still elements of everyday Japanese life.

Yet the more humorous plot devices of Maison Ikkoku could have only existed in the Internet-less, cellphone-less world of the eighties. If gimmicks like mistaking the French restaurant “Ma Maison” for the local pub “Mamezou,” or Yusaku’s female friends pranking Kyoko so badly she ends up installing a public phone for the rest of the boarding home seem ridiculous at first glance, they’re enjoyable for nostalgia’s sake. In 2011, hijinks like that just don’t happen anymore– people just text each other!

The main love triangle

The relationship between Yusaku and Kyoko is the highlight of the entire series. The anime does a wonderful job of showing how it changes from obsession (on Yusaku’s part) and annoyance (on Kyoko’s part) to a mutual affection. Surrounded by secondary characters who are more or less caricatures, the main romantic players come across as surprisingly real. Yusaku might appear at first to be simply a lecherous loser just barely out of his teenage years, but with time, he emerges as a man who, if nothing else, will always do the right thing, even if it’s to his disadvantage. And Kyoko is never just a pretty face. While Mitaka and Yusaku are both guilty of idealizing her, they also embrace her faults: her tendency towards jealousy, her bad temper, her indecisiveness. In an adorable moment in episode 43, they even spend a night drunkenly swapping notes and consoling each other. Kyoko is secretive to a fault with her feelings, so it’s no surprise that most of the series consists of both men learning to reconcile their idea of Kyoko with the person she actually is. An admirably realistic portrayal of love, for sure, but gosh if the story isn’t repetitive! If you don’t find yourself tempted to throw your TV out the window by episode 58, you’re doing it wrong.

Despite the addition of numerous sidestories, Maison Ikkoku the anime feels more streamlined than its manga counterpart, simply because the anime has the benefit of hindsight. While the manga hesitates over how to resolve Kyoko’s and Yusaku’s relationship, the anime already knows how the story ends and stresses their romantic tension early on, most notably in episode 14 and and 22. Readers of the manga might actually wonder if Kyoko ends up with Yusaku; the anime, on the other hand, is emphatically a story about Kyoko and Yusaku, just with detours.

However, the anime never strays far from the manga’s wacky sitcom nature. Don’t expect Ichinose to be much more than a busy body with a fondness for alcohol, or for Yotsuya to stop being an infuriatingly mysterious leech. Just the opposite, as the Ichinose-Yotsuya-Akemi trio get far more screen time in the anime. On the other hand, Nikaido, an accidental resident introduced late in the manga, is absent from the anime, and his lines are given away to the other Ikkoku residents. Anime-only fans thus never experience the epic prank war that erupts between Nikaido and Yotsuya, but Nikaido’s absence is glossed over so well in the anime that it made me question Takahashi’s choice to introduce him at all in the manga.

With five opening and six ending songs, including a Japanese pop hit by Anzen Chitai and two songs by Gilbert O’Sullivan that never made it to the American release, the soundtrack is a perfect representative of the music from that time period. Likewise, the animation is classically eighties but holds up well despite its age. Among other things, the characters frequently change outfits — a rare feat even nowadays for an anime series! Despite its simplicity, the animation does an excellent job conveying the characters’ every emotion, no matter how nuanced, and manages to stay true to Rumiko Takahashi’s original art. Paired with an all around impressive performance from the entire Japanese voice acting cast, the characters of Maison Ikkoku have never been more alive as they are in the anime.

For those who have never read the original manga, Maison Ikkoku the anime is an excellent substitute or introduction. For those who are already fans of the manga, watching the anime is just like revisiting an old friend. Personally, three episodes — 27, 84, and 92 — make the anime adaptation for me. Episode 27’s masterful use of silence, a blinking light, and silhouettes elevate the anime treatment of Souchirou-san’s disappearance into something far more cinematic. I could write whole essays on how wonderfully episode 84 encapsulates repeating issues of trust, family, and determination, not to mention the little animation details — the classical music soundtrack, the Joan Miro in the hotel lobby — that build a world richer than the one in the manga. And Episode 92, split into three acts, each dedicated to one woman, is a great argument for why Takahashi writes some of the best women in anime.

Viz Media distributed both the manga and anime, and both are available through most major online retailers. As the series is pretty old now, it’s unlikely to be found in bookstores, but chances are good that if your local library is like mine and only stocks outdated anime or manga, the old Viz volumes (complete with cheesy titles like “The Hounds of War” or “Good Housekeeping”) will still be there.

The Josei Alphabet: D

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“D” is for…

Daisy Luck, written and illustrated by Tsunami Umino, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, two volumes. This series follows four lifelong friends. One is a housewife, one works as a baker, one is a salarywoman, and one is unemployed.

Darling wa Nanamono ni Tsuki, written and illustrated by Yuki Yoshihara, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, eight volumes. More funny smut from the prolific creator of Butterflies, Flowers (Viz), this time about the marriage of the daughter of a gay man and her attempts to keep things spicy. Published in German by Tokyopop and French by Panini.

Deka Wanko, written and illustrated by Kozeuko Morimoto, currently serialized in Shueisha’s You, seven volumes so far. This goofy detective series features a sleuth with a keen sense of smell and a fondness for frills. It’s been adapted into a live-action drama.

Doctor Lonely, adaptation of a novel by Glenda Sanders by Akiyo Izuka, originally published by Harlequin. A mail carrier finds her fantasies about an attractive doctor are muddled up by his nerdy reality.

Double House, written and illustrated by Nanae Haruno, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Young You, one volume. This story explores the complicated relationship between a young woman and a male-to-female transsexual. Erica (Okazu) Friedman has written about some of Haruno’s other works, including Pieta.

Licensed josei:

  • Dazzle, written and illustrated by Minari Endoh, published by Tokyopop, originally serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum.
  • Diabolo, written by Kaoru Ohashi, illustrated by Kei Kusunoki, published by Tokyopop, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Comic Crimson, three volumes.
  • Dolis, written and illustrated by Maki Kusumoto, published by Tokyopop, originally serialized by Shodensha, one volume.
  • Doll, written and illustrated by Mitsukazu Mihara, published by Tokyopop, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, six volumes.
  • A Drunken Dream and Other Stories, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, published by Fantagraphics, short stories originally serialized in various magazines, including Shogakukan’s Petit Flower, one volume.

What starts with “D” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Daite Daite Daite Darling, written and illustrated by Miwa Sakai, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Silky, 15 volumes.
  • Do Da Dancin’!, written and illustrated by Satoru Makimura, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Young You, 9 volumes.
  • Do Da Dancin’! Venice Kokusaihen, written and illustrated by Satoru Makimura, currently serialized in Shueisha’s Office You, 8 volumes so far.

Upcoming 2/23/2011

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We’re back to a more substantial ComicList this week. You can click here for my Pick of the Week.

As for this week’s arrivals, there’s the third volume of 7 Billion Needles (Vertical), Nobuaki Tadano’s manga homage to Hal Clement’s novel, Needle. I’ve been enjoying the series for its balance of character development and monster mayhem, but the proportions seem a bit off in this installment.

Our sulky heroine Hikaru now finds herself host to not one but two powerful entities. Seeing as those beings have been acting in opposition forever, I was hoping for some focus on the new arrangement. Unfortunately, the triad is forced to adapt almost instantaneously, as outside forces demand their attention. Benevolent Horizon and malignant Maelstrom seem to have spun off and are causing evolutionary mayhem. This invites the intervention of a third powerful entity and drives our heroine and her tagalongs to try and set things right before the world is changed forever.

In short, there’s too much mayhem and not enough moping. I was enjoying Hikaru’s emotional progress, and it felt like that was shoved into the background in favor of incursions of instant monsters. It’s not devoid of emotional moments, but they tend to be drowned out in favor of the more visceral events. I’m hoping the fourth and final volume strikes a better balance, but, even if it doesn’t, this will have amounted to a very appealing series overall. And, if your reaction to either of the earlier volumes was that there wasn’t enough mayhem, this is a good opportunity to reintroduce yourself to the series.

(Comments are based on a review copy provided by the publisher.)

Other highlights for the week include:

What looks good to you?

Interlude: Blogging

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I rarely go off-topic here at Manga Bookshelf, but I read a blog post earlier today that irresistibly compelled me to do so. Furthermore, I’m going to claim that I’m on topic after all, since Manga Bookshelf is, first and foremost, a blog.

What so enraged inspired me is this: Teach, or Your Blog Will Die, a “Miscellaneous Blog Tip” at ProBlogger, from Two Hour Blogger‘s Martyn Chamberlin.

In his post, Mr. Chamberlin urges aspiring bloggers to recognize the importance of teaching through their blogs. He (quite rightly) explains that “personality” is not enough to draw or maintain readership, and offers up some sage advice for ensuring consistent, professional content. Though I think his hardline “teaching” mandate is more useful in some fields than in others, I thought his approach was pretty reasonable until I hit this particular bullet point:

  • Write thorough, two-hour posts that explore these topics, one at a time.

    • Two hours is overkill for some posts (though not nearly enough for others), which gave me a moment of pause. Thankfully, the next point began on a reassuringly sane note.

  • Publish consistently.

    • Great advice here, no? Consistent content is absolutely the key to building and maintaining readership. All worries quickly placated, I dove optimistically into the next sentence.

    Don’t publish something unless it’s the best thing you’ve ever written. This means you’ll either be deleting a lot of drafts, or you’ll be spending entire days revising your content.

    Wait, what?

    I realize that there is no one method of writing in the world that can work for every person, but my first thought upon reading that next sentence was that it was the single most destructive piece of advice for new bloggers that I had ever heard. “Don’t publish something unless it’s the best thing you’ve ever written?” That sentiment could be more succinctly conveyed by saying, “Don’t publish,” since, for most writers, that would be the result.

    Telling a blogger that every piece must be his or her newest masterpiece is the best recipe for writer’s block I’ve ever seen, leading inevitably to the real killer of most blogs: lack of regular content. Yes, building readership requires that your content be smart and compelling, but most importantly it must be new, daily or as close to it as possible. Otherwise, by the time you’ve managed to complete your next masterpiece, the only person still reading will be your mom.

    The internet is a vast and disorganized place, with more new content being generated in a second than most of us could possibly comprehend. That any one of us manages to reach even one other person via the tiny speck of a single blog is kind of a miracle, really. And while Chamberlin’s advice is about as sound as it gets in terms of trying to bring that miracle forth, keeping that one reader around after he/she’s read just one post is approximately a million times harder. Fortunately, though online readership can be fickle, most people are creatures of habit, and the best way to draw them back, time and again, is to become a part of their daily routine.

    With that in mind, here’s my advice for building and maintaining readership as a new blogger:

    1. Check out Chamberlin’s first two bullet points. I suspect they apply to nearly any kind of blogging, and hey, why recreate the wheel? I’ll add that you should write about something you love. That’ll help bring out the passion Chamberlin so rightly asks for.

    2. Publish something new every day, at least five days a week if possible. Give real time and attention to your masterpieces when they come, but let them be just part of a solid schedule of concise, entertaining, on-topic writing that may run the gamut from Serious Business to light-hearted linkblogging. Don’t go crazy to the point of spamming your readers, but a well-constructed, on-topic daily post (or two!) isn’t going to piss off anyone.

    3. Write your schedule down. This doesn’t have to be public (though it certainly can be) but it should be something you can stick to, week after week. If you discover that your schedule is too ambitious, change it, until you’ve got something you know you can maintain. A missed feature here or there isn’t going to do much damage, but it takes very little to fade from someone else’s habit, so try to build expectations you know you can follow through on.

    4. Engage your readers by encouraging them to interact, both with you and with each other. End posts with a question whenever appropriate, especially when blogging in first person. Though you may feel the invitation to comment is implied, you’ll be surprised to find how much more often it happens when you ask a question directly.

    5. Write, write, and write some more, and when the post is due, publish, even if it’s not a masterpiece. The truth is, as diligently as you may toil to create brilliant, beautiful prose, pondering thoughtfully on the Great Works Of Our Time, sometimes what people really want to do is dish about their crushes on fictional characters. Like it or not, your hard-won masterpiece may not be what’s bringing in the traffic. Deal with this. Learn to embrace it.

    6. Read and comment on other people’s blogs. You may think you don’t have time, what with all those posts to write, but the best way to establish yourself in any community is to actually be part of that community. Talk to other fans in comments. Get yourself on Twitter. Include a link to your blog when you sign your name, but talk to people about what they’ve said, and not just about yourself.

    I’ll be the first to admit that daily posting is hard. It’s the single biggest reason I begged Kate and David to join me. On any given day, I know someone‘s going to post, and their brilliant reviews and think-pieces allow me to spend my time on fewer “masterpieces” and more quick-n-easy bits of fluff. This is a great argument for being part of a group blog. Even in our tiny niche of a topic, in this nerdy corner of the blogosphere, daily content is the key to our continued existence.

    So don’t paralyze yourself with ridiculous expectations. Write good content, and let your best come when it can.

    What do you think, readers? Any advice from you for would-be manga bloggers?

    Manhwa Monday: Dinosaur wars

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    Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

    This week, Korea JoongAng Daily reports that cartoonist Kim Soo-jung’s popular manhwa character Dooly has become a subject of controversy between the local governments of Dobong and Bucheon, both of whom want to use the 10 million-year-old dinosaur as a mascot.

    “Dobong District has been planning a Dooly theme park with a museum dedicated to the dinosaur since 2007. Lee, the Dobong District Office director, said that construction on the museum, estimated at 13 billion won ($11.6 million), is slated to start next year, with a target completion date of 2015.

    Bucheon, meanwhile, has spent the past eight years transforming its image from that of an industrial city to one dedicated to animation. In 1998, the city established the Korea Manhwa Contents Agency (Komacon) and the Bucheon International Comics Festival. Dooly has served as the city’s mascot since 2003.”

    Check out the article for more.

    On this side of the Pacific, NETCOMICS continues to show signs of life, publishing another new chapter of Sooyeon Won’s Full House.

    At The Hooded Utilitarian, Michelle Smith and I discuss in-depth Jeon JinSeok and Han SeungHee’s One Thousand and One Nights, complete with sheep jokes and pretty pictures.

    This week in reviews: On his video podcast, Otaku, no Video, Brent P. Newhall talks about volume one of One Fine Day (Yen Press). At Manga Maniac Cafe, Julie enjoys volume six of 13th Boy (Yen Press). Angela Eastman checks out the final volume of Very! Very! Sweet (Yen Press) at Mania.com.

    That’s all for this week!

    Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!

    Pick of the Week: Girls’ comics sweep

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    It’s all shoujo, sunjeong, and BL this round, as the Manga Bookshelf bloggers make their Picks of the week!

    From MJ: My choice this week is probably pretty obvious, considering how much love I’ve already heaped onto SangEun Lee’s supernatural romance, 13th Boy. This quirky manhwa is easily one of my favorite currently-running teen series, made up of drama, humor, and outright weirdness in pretty much equal parts. Check out my thoughts on the last volume here. “… one thing I consistently enjoy about this series is how deftly Lee combines drama and cracktastic humor so that neither ever dominates the story … served up together with a helping of true whimsy, every piece of this meal is utterly delectable.” Yen Press ships out the series’ sixth volume this week, which looks to be packed with extra talking-cactus goodness–truly the way to my romance-loving heart.

    From David: As a gay man who’s extremely picky about yaoi and boys’-love titles, I generally like to do advanced research before I commit to a title. I haven’t done full due diligence on Riyu Yamakami’s Then Comes Love (Digital Manga), but it does sound promising. Okay, so my ears perked up when I saw the word “outs” in the product description. Any time there’s the possibility that sexual identity matters even a little, I feel compelled to at least investigate a book further. So while I can’t promise I’ll pick up Then Comes Love, I’m curious to hear from people who may be familiar with the title, which sounds to me that it’s about people with lives and stuff.

    From Kate: Do I have to pick just one? Because I’m torn between two Yen Press titles: the final volume of Dragon Girl, and <the sixth volume of 13th Boy. Dragon Girl is dumb as hammers, trotting out every cliche from the shojo manga handbook: secret siblings, omnipotent school councils, aloof guys that only the heroine can reach. I couldn’t hate it, though, because it’s fundamentally good-natured and just a little weird: how many stories can you name in which the heroine’s father is a handsome, globe-trotting ethnobotanist who wears an earring and a leather vest *and* used to lead the pep squad? (Come to think of it, I’d read a manga about Rinna’s dad. *Ahem.*)

    I feel the same way about 13th Boy: on many levels, it’s the kind of story I normally loathe, as it features a bossy girl who single-mindedly pursues an unavailable boy. What won me over was the lively supporting cast, a cast that includes a walking, talking cactus who wears a do-rag, adores his owner, and occasionally transforms into a handsome teen. Beatrice (yes, I know: Beatrice?) may have started out as a comic-relief character, but he’s evolved into 13th Boy‘s most sympathetic figure, a lovelorn young man who’s willing to make big sacrifices for the chance to tell his owner how he feels. I don’t know about you, but Beatrice’s dilemma is making me wonder what, exactly, the spider plant in my kitchen is thinking.

    Amazon.com Widgets

    So, readers, what are your picks this week?

    Skyblue Shore Volumes 1 and 2

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    Are hot janitors a Thing? After reading Dengeki Daisy and Skyblue Shore, which both feature handsome yet tortured twentysomething janitors, I am now convinced that anyone who wants to find cute men in Japan needs to start staking out custodial closets in local high schools. Skyblue Shore is a fun shoujo manga, with some hints of darkness that keep it from being overly sweet.



    Skyblue Shore Volume 1 by Nanpei Yamada

    Tomo used to visit the beach daily as a little girl. One day she met a boy who gave her an agate that he found while beach combing. While she went back to the beach daily, she never saw him again. Years later, Tomo’s grown older and she’s left her love of the beach behind. She’s on her way to school when someone starts feeling her up on the bus. A tall, dark and handsome man notices what’s going on and throws the groper off the bus, yelling that no one is going to touch one of his students. He leaves behind a keychain that has the same type of agate that Tomo keeps as a souvenir. This is a fairly formulaic beginning to a manga. Stories about children who reconnect as teenagers are common but even while Skyblue Shore evokes plenty of shoujo cliches, it does so in a refreshing way. The teenage Tomo is a fairly typical shoujo heroine. She’s pretty, popular, and enthusiastic but considers herself average. What makes her stand out a bit from her character type is her tendency to exhibit a strong nurturing streak due to the fact that she’s had to take care of her flighty mother. Tomo stumbles across a sullen boy who has a hairtie that exhibits the same construction techniques as the mysterious stranger’s broken keychain. Ten offers to fix her keychain and she trails him back to a shack on the roof of the school. She barges in and finds an apartment furnished with things from the beach, with elaborate driftwood assemblages. Ten, is of course, the boy who gave Tomo the agate when they were children. While he figures out who she is fairly quickly, she doesn’t connect Ten with her long-lost friend. His older brother Riku is the junior janitor at the school who has a habit of defending high school girls from perverts.

    The pairing of an enthusiastic girl and sullen boy can be found plenty of times in shoujo manga. But I enjoyed seeing the relationship between this particular couple in Skyblue Shore. Ten starts taking Tomo beachcombing, and she’s delighted to rediscover one of her favorite childhood pastimes. She exhibits the same degree of excitement about being on the beach that she had as a little girl, but what happened to change Ten from being a happy little boy to a prickly teenager who hides behind his hair? Tomo spends more time with Riku, and promptly develops a hopeless crush on him despite his tendency to treat her like a little sister. Ten clearly cares about Tomo too, so the classic love triangle is all set up. Tomo starts appearing by Ten’s side after school, asking if he’s found any treasures at the beach. When Ten tells Riku that he’s taken on Tomo as his apprentice beachcomber, he says “I think…she’s been waiting a long time for me.”

    I enjoyed all the details about the sea that Yamada included. Ten shows Tomo how to bleach sand dollars, and you can practically smell the salty air when the characters go down to the beach. Yamada’s character designs are clean and attractive, and I like the way she varied the body types of the brothers. Riku is clearly more mature, with more of a weighty, adult look while it is clear that Ten and Tomo haven’t finished growing yet.

    Skyblue Shore Volume 2 by Nanpei Yamada

    Skyblue Shore might initially seem like a charming, slice of life shoujo series that is only differentiated from other similar manga by the beach setting. Where it starts to stand out is the theme of past psychological trauma and potential insanity that is interwoven with all of the nice scenes of Tomo and Ten hunting for agates. A dark female character with unhealthy ties to Riku is introduced in the person of Michiru, who only sporadically attends school. When she comes back she definitely doesn’t approve of Tomo and Riku’s friendship. Tomo observes some close encounters between Riku and Michiru, and is dismayed. While Riku doesn’t cross any lines, it is obvious that they have a shared history and Michiru seems very emotionally damaged. Ten can see straight through Michiru and warns Tomo to be careful of who she makes friends with. Riku shares the fact that he and Ten lost their sister to the sea when Tomo almost drowns. She comforts him, and he asks her to be a good friend to Ten and Michiru. She starts to treat Michiru like a bit of a project, trying to bring her out of her shell and getting her to socialize with some of the other students. When Michiru stops coming to school, Tomo gets her to come by using the only threat she can. She says “Unless you drag your lazy carcass to school, I’m going to claim Riku for myself!”

    Riku and Ten are clearly emotionally damaged by their loss, even though Riku might seem to do a better job of appearing normal. It doesn’t seem quite fair for Tomo to be put in the position of emotional caretaker for her group of friends. The blend of slice-of-life stories inter cut with past revelations of tragedy reminded me a little bit of Oyayubihime Infinity without the fantasy elements. Skyblue Shore is only six volumes long, and I’m curious to see if the characters actually manage to work through their various emotional issues and achieve some form of happiness.

    Review copies provided by the publisher.

    From the stack: A Single Match

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    If I had to pick a favorite boutique comics publisher, it would probably be Drawn & Quarterly, simply for the volume of work they’ve released that I really, really enjoy. If I isolate the portion of their catalog devoted to Japanese comics, their success rate is somewhat lower. I appreciate their efforts to bring avant-garde manga to English-reading audiences, but I don’t always particularly enjoy the individual works.

    I like the work of Yoshihiro Tatsumi, particularly his autobiography, A Drifting Life., and his early genre work, Black Blizzard. I found Seiichi Hayashi’s Red Colored Elegy more of its time than enduring. Susumu Katsumata’s Red Snow was pure pleasure, but Imiri Sakabashira’s The Box Man struck me as a fleeting, flashy fever dream. I’m happy to report that Oji Suzuki’s collection of short stories, A Single Match, wound up on the positive end of the spectrum, though that wasn’t an instantaneous verdict.

    Suzuki has a very distinct rhythm and sensibility, and it isn’t immediately accessible. His stories have a quality that’s both dreamlike and naturalistic, and it took a few stories for me to yield to the style. In dreams, you find yourself recognizing people and places you’ve never been before, accepting circumstances that are totally alien to your experience and constructing memories that you claim as your own, even though you know that they aren’t. It’s a bit unsettling to see that illogically coherent frame of reference captured so precisely on paper, and since the experience of dreams isn’t an entirely comfortable one to begin with, the feeling of unease can be magnified.

    “Tale of Remembrance” is an extraordinary example of this real-but-not approach. Narrative perspective seems to shift before you realize it. Inky blackness frames indelible images like a forlorn, faceless girl floating in the sky. Specific impressions that seem like memory are transformed into unsettling visual metaphors. Emotional undercurrents run from tender to suggestively menacing. It’s quite a reading experience, and it’s certainly not the only one of its kind in this collection.

    Even the more ostensibly straightforward stories like “Mountain Town” keep you on uncertain footing. In this piece, a boy accompanies his father to return a scooter that he’d used for a part-time job. The journey is fraught with tension, unspoken and verbalized. The boy seesaws between uncomplicated comfort in his father’s company and painful awareness of the man’s shortcomings. Suzuki’s illustrations here are generally fairly concrete, though there are flashes of abstraction, like a memory is being filled in with a raw, emotional conceptualization.

    As much as I ended up enjoying this collection, I have to admit to initial unease and impatience. It’s not a work that grabs you from the first page, and I’m not even sure the works are best appreciated as a single reading experience. They were published in Seirindo’s legendary alternative anthology, Garo, and I found myself wondering how they would have read in that context. The notion of getting a small dose of Suzuki’s work in the midst of a variety of other styles and subjects was appealing to me. When I read the stories again, I’ll sprinkle them in between other works to see if my theory is correct.

    And I certainly will read them again. It’s nice to be challenged by a work, especially when the work rewards you for rising to that challenge. And I would happily read any of Suzuki’s work that Drawn & Quarterly chooses to publish, though maybe not all at once.